Chapter 14 THIRTEEN PART ONE
ALEX
Dawn breaks, and I haven't slept. Her scent lingers in my study – vanilla and jasmine wrapped in lies. I replay her reactions when I laid out my new requirements. The slight tremble in her hands as I showed her the quarters being prepared beside my own, separated only by a single door. The spike of fear in her scent when I detailed her new duties – personal attendant, at my beck and call day and night. Every response feeds my wolf's growing obsession.
"You'll take your meals with me," I had told her, drinking in how her pulse jumped at my proximity. "Attend my private meetings. Handle my personal correspondence." Each duty another chain binding her closer. "And of course, you'll be responsible for my chambers."
The way she paled at that last requirement fed something dark in my soul. She knew what it meant – no more hiding behind other slaves, no more carefully maintained distance. Every morning, every night, she'd be within my reach.
Now my wolf paces restlessly, every instinct focused on the thin wall separating us. The reports on my desk blur together, meaningless compared to the mystery sleeping three floors below. I've read her file a hundred times, searching for clues. The Mitchell pack gave her up too easily. A wolfless daughter should have been hidden away, not paraded as tribute. Unless...
A knock interrupts my thoughts. "Enter."
Sarah, one of my personal slaves, steps in with breakfast. Behind her, Alora carries fresh linens, eyes carefully downcast. My wolf surges forward, nostrils flaring at her scent. Different today – sweeter, headier. Her heat builds faster than she can mask it.
"Leave us," I order Sarah, not taking my eyes off my little liar. She tries to retreat with Sarah, but my voice cracks like a whip. "Not you."
Alora freezes, her pulse jumping visibly at her throat. Such a delicate throat. My fangs ache to mark it.
"Come here."
She approaches my desk with that practiced grace that screams deception. No wolfless slave moves like she does – all fluid power barely contained. My wolf recognizes a predator's grace, no matter how well she plays prey.
"The linens, my Lord?" Her voice remains steady, but fear and something darker spices her scent.
I rise slowly, stalking around the desk. She holds her ground – another oddity. True slaves would retreat. "Drop them."
The linens fall forgotten as I cage her against the desk. This close, her scent drives me mad. Power radiates from her skin, carefully leashed but unmistakable. My wolf howls to claim it, to own it, to break through every wall she's built.
"Your heat approaches." I drag my nose along her neck, drinking in her reaction. "I can smell it growing stronger each day."
"I... I don't..." The lie dies as I grip her hip.
"What did I say about lying to me, little wolf?" My claws extend, pricking through the silk of her robe. "Your body betrays you. Your scent betrays you. Everything about you screams deception."
She trembles, but not from fear alone. Arousal darkens her scent, making my wolf snap its teeth. "Please..."
"Please what?" I nip her ear, enjoying her gasp. "Please don't notice how your wolf responds to mine? Please don't smell how wet you get when I'm near? Please don't expose whatever power you're hiding behind those pretty walls?"
Before she can respond, a commotion outside breaks the moment. Border patrol returning. The scent of blood carries through my open window.
"Go." I release her, fighting my wolf's urge to keep her pinned. "We'll continue this... discussion later."
She flees, taking her intoxicating scent with her. I spend ten minutes bringing my wolf under control before addressing the injured patrol.