I didn’t know how Damon was about anything. He had spoken maybe ten words to me in as many years. He looked through me at pack events, focused on whatever political chess game occupied his mind. Which was fine. Perfect, actually. Being invisible to the Lycan King-elect was a survival strategy.
Sweat gathered at my hairline despite the aggressive air conditioning. My thighs pressed together involuntarily, trying to ease an ache that had nothing to do with standing in heels.
“I… excuse me. I need to use the powder room.” The words came out steadier than expected. I set the barely touched whiskey on a passing server’s tray and stepped away from Laziel before he could object.
“Of course. I’ll be here when you get back.” His smile promised he would be. That he’d wait all night if necessary. The predator patience of his bloodline wrapped in a prettier package than his brother’s, but predator nonetheless.
I didn’t run. Running would draw attention. Instead, I walked with measured steps toward the hallway that led to the restrooms, to the exit, to anywhere that wasn’t here. The ballroom’s sensory chaos faded as I entered the corridor. Cooler air hit my overheated skin like a blessing.
Ten feet. That’s how far I made it before a hand closed around my wrist.
The spin happened too fast to resist. One second I was fleeing toward freedom, the next I was pressed into a shadowed alcove, my back against cold marble. Damon Kildare filled the space completely, six feet four plus of controlled power in a perfectly tailored suit.
“Going somewhere?”
His voice had always been deep. Now it dropped to registers that bypassed my ears and went straight to parts of my body that had no business responding. This close, his scent overwhelmed everything else, rain on cedar, dark coffee, something uniquely alpha that made my knees threaten to buckle.
His nostrils flared. Once. Twice. His entire body went rigid as what his wolf already knew reached his human brain.
“You’re in heat.”
Not a question. A statement delivered with the kind of stunned disbelief usually reserved for natural disasters. Which, I supposed, this was. An unmated omega in heat at the new Lycan King’s recognition ceremony? Disaster didn’t begin to cover it.
“This is impossible. You can’t be in heat here.” His grip on my wrist tightened, not painful but inescapable. Like he couldn’t decide whether to push me away or pull me closer.
“I took suppressants. I need to leave.” The words tumbled out, high and desperate. Too close. He was too close and I couldn’t think with his scent filling my lungs, with his body radiating heat that called to whatever was happening inside me.
“Suppressants.” He said it like a curse. “You think suppressants matter when you smell like...” His nostrils flared again, eyes darkening as he took another deep inhale. His other hand came up to brace against the wall beside my head, caging me in. “Fuck.”
“Let me go.” I tried to pull back but he followed, closing the distance I desperately needed.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? To every unmated alpha in that room?” His voice had gone rough, accusatory. “Walking in here, smelling like pure sex and availability?”
“I didn’t know!” My back pressed harder against the cold marble, trying to escape the heat rolling off him.
“Didn’t know?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You didn’t notice every alpha’s head turning when you walked by? Didn’t feel their eyes tracking you?” His grip shifted on my wrist, thumb pressing against my racing pulse. “Or maybe you did. Maybe that’s exactly what you wanted.”
“That’s not... I would never...”
“No?” He leaned closer, close enough that his breath fanned across my face. “Then why aren’t you on suppressants that actually work? Why come to my ceremony smelling like you need to be bent over and-”
“Don’t touch me!” I wrenched my wrist free with strength born of pure adrenaline and shoved past him. He let me go, probably too shocked by my audacity to stop me.
I didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back. Not when I could feel his gaze burning into me as I fled toward the ballroom. Not when my traitorous body wanted nothing more than to turn around and let him finish that sentence.
Wrenching free from his grip required more strength than it should have. Not because he held tight, he’d already released me. But because some insane part of me wanted to stay in that alcove. Wanted to see what he’d do if I called his bluff.
The ballroom’s chaos felt like salvation after the intensity of the hallway. Witnesses. Crowds. Safety in numbers even if every unmated alpha suddenly seemed to track my movement with disturbing focus. I needed distance. I needed a shield.
Carter Chen saved me without knowing it.
I nearly collided with the Southern Lycan King as I wove between bodies, desperate to put space between myself and that alcove. His hand steadied me automatically, the touch of a mated alpha blessedly neutral.
“Miss Thornback, you look unwell.” Genuine concern colored his words. Chen was older, established, secure enough in his position that he didn’t need to play the dominance games younger alphas favored.
“The heat, I mean, the heating. It’s a bit much with this crowd.”
If he noticed my slip, he was too polite to mention it. “Perhaps I should escort you somewhere cooler?”
