Chapter 11

The first thing that hits me when I walk into the restaurant is not the presence of Niles Rhodes. It's not the fact that Corrigan is talking to—and probably conniving with—a man who wants me dead.

It's the way she smiles so freely and laughs aloud with some man like she has never with me. Even when we had almost gotten mated.

I force my fists to straighten, trying to fight the blinding, hot jealousy that envelops me. Makes me want to take Niles’ eyes out for even thinking of looking at her like that

I do not enjoy the feeling of jealousy. Or any other emotion, for that matter. It makes men weak.

It doesn't matter that she is way younger than he is. Or that she is too selfish to love anyone but herself, anyway. The jealousy eats into me, filling my head with scenarios involving that coffee mug in her hand that will leave Niles dead or maybe seriously deformed.

“Don't do anything irrational.” I hear Cormac say beside me. “You've come too far for that.”

I exhale and l force my stance to relax. “You have nothing to worry about. She's just a female.”

“Who only had to shed a few tears and bat her lashes to get Dante to hunt you like a dog.” Cormac says.

“My memory serves me just fine, Cormac “ I drawl, moving towards Corrigan's table.

“Corrigan.” I hear her say, her smile evident from her voice. “Corrigan Price.”

“Call me Niles.” He replies. “Niles Rhodes, I am the Alpha…”

“The alpha of the Winter Hale pack.” I cut in as I get to their table.

“Lucien?” Corrigan says in a slightly breathless voice. Is she that nervous to be caught with her little “friend”?

I take her hand, pulling her to her feet and placing my hand on the small of her back and the nape of her neck. “You've been having fun without me, pet?” I murmur, enjoying the rise of angry color in her cheeks. She swallows, obviously biting back a retort.

I kiss the base of her neck, reveling in the feel of her satin skin and the pulse beating wildly beneath it.

I hear Cormac’s discreet cough and step away from her. “I see you've met Anneliese’s father.” I say pointedly.

I see all the color on her face drain till she is pale. I’m almost scared that she'll faint, but she seems to be made of sterner stuff than that.

Niles stands. I can see the hatred and murderous intent in his eyes. I recognize the drive behind his mission to see me dead. I’ve seen that look in the mirror.

Everyday for three years. Dead on the inside and having revenge as your only reason for you to live.

The only difference between us both is that I actually succeeded and he won't. The revenge he wants is to be able to stand over the dead body of his daughter’s murderer.

He wants it to be me because he wants to have someone to blame. He needs to have someone to blame. That doesn't mean I’d give myself to him on a golden platter.

“Lucien Blackthorn.” Niles greets. “I never thought I'd see you again.”

Of course, six feet under would have been a better way of ensuring that.

“Yet here I am.” I say.

He doesn't seem to be happy about that. “What a success story.” Niles mutters, looking around. “Warrior turned murderer turned rogue turned hotel magnate turned alpha. Really makes the other ones want to work harder, don't you think?”

I feel Corrigan stiffen beside me. She didn’t know I owned the hotel. I squeeze her waist, an indication that we will talk about this whole thing later. Much later.

“However, I will be on my way now.” Niles says.

“Lovely meeting you, Corrigan.” He mutters as he bends over Corrigan’s hand and places a kiss on the back of her palm.

I restrain the urge to kick his forehead so he stands straight again.

He leaves immediately, the doors closing up behind him.

Corrigan’s POV

The elevator ride was awkward and loaded with silence and tension. Lucien and I stood beside each other, saying nothing. When the elevator finally stops and its doors slide open, it is obvious that there is about to be a long talk.

He steps into my suite first, holding the door open so that I can get in and shutting it behind me.

“You own this hotel?” I ask.

He busies himself with taking his tie off and pouring himself some whiskey. He downs it in one gulp.

“What,” he begins in a lethally soft voice. “in hell were you doing with that man?”

“That's none of your business.” I say, enacting bravery I don't feel.

“He wants me dead for a crime that you coincidentally helped your fiancé commit and cover up. Do you catch my drift here?”

I feel color rise in my cheeks. I look away.

“Do you have any idea what he would do to you if he realizes that you helped keep the murderer—the real murderer of his daughter alive for longer than was necessary?” he continues, towering over me.

Even in my heels, I feel small and frail. I back away but he holds me still by my shoulders.

“But that doesn't matter to you, does it? So what exactly draws you?” he asks, his eyes wild. He shakes me almost violently. “What?! What is it?

He grabs my chin.

“Is it the thought of being with someone born into privilege? With someone who didn't have to lift a finger to get a position of power?”

When I remain silent, he shakes me even harder.

“Whatever it is.” I say, my voice breathless. “You don't have it.”

That seemed to be the last straw. He moves away from me slowly, calmly, almost like he hadn't just shaken me and yelled at me. Somehow, this version of Lucien is even scarier.

It reminds me of the smirk his wolf had had on his face before he had ripped Dante’s throat out. He steps back, until there is about six feet between us.

“Strip.” He says.

One word. Just one word.

My jaw drops. “Lu…Lucien…”

He turns to take his watch off, letting it fall to the ground. “Don't let me repeat myself, Corrigan.” He says coldly.

He turns to me, tilting his head to the side. “You’re my mistress, aren't you?”

I step back, my back colliding with the wall. “Lucien, it’s…you've got to calm down…”

He walks forward, every step resounding in the room. I swallow, my shaking hands finding their way to the zip of my dress. I let it down slowly, hearing the sound of the zipper loudly in the silence.

I can hear my own heartbeat, almost like it's about to pop out of my chest.

I look away and let the dress fall to the floor, going for this to be over soon. Time draws out unbearably. I can feel his gaze, almost like a caress, raking my body shamelessly.

I want to cover myself. It’s embarrassing enough to stand almost completely nude in front of someone, but to have him stare at you like it was completely normal…

“Turn around.” He says. Reluctantly, I turn, staring at the wall and trying to clear my mind and think of something—anything—but this. I try to think about the wallpaper. The cream and gold…

“Place you hands on the wall.” He says. I’m surprised how close he is to me. His breath tickles my hair. He takes my wrists into his hands and guides my palms so that they are braced apart on the wall. He lets his fingers trail from my wrists to my elbow, slowly, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. My head falls forward and I bite back a moan.

He lets his hands trail to my breasts, squeezing through the lace of my bra. Heat shoots straight between my thighs and my toes curl. I bite my lip, determined not to feel anything. Not to react. I force myself to recite the multiplication table as he undoes the buckle of my strapless bra and lets it fall to the floor

Three in three places is nine…

Three in four places is…

He places an open mouthed kiss on my neck and palms my breasts, squeezing lightly and turning my thoughts into mush. My breath rushed out of my lungs in an embarrassing moan, heat polling between my legs.

“I don't have what it takes to keep you.” He mutters in my ear, his voice strangely erotic. His palm traces down my ribcage to my navel and I hold my breath, my head falling back to his chest. He flexes a finger over me through my panties, just at the right spot to make me gasp.

“But your soft heirs can’t satisfy you, either. So I guess you're one of those women who like slumming it.” He whispers, his insulting words losing their sting with the gentle pressure of his fingers and the soft whisper. “Being with the low life gets you off, doesn’t it?”

He licks the side of my neck and increases friction with his fingers. I groan, ashamed and free.

He stills his fingers suddenly, stepping away. I turn to him, confused.

“This interlude has been…pleasant enough.” He says in a cool voice. “However, I must leave.”

With that, he leaves the suite.