Chapter 4

Lorelei

I watched his gaze track over my naked form, clinical and detached, showing absolutely no recognition. Why would it? He'd been so far gone in his rut, so consumed by the Alpha frenzy I'd accidentally triggered, that he probably hadn't seen my face clearly at all.

And now here he was—the man I'd bound myself to, the man whose pheromones were the only thing keeping me alive. And from the insignia on his uniform, the way his soldiers deferred to him, he was someone important. Someone powerful.

Someone who would execute me without hesitation if he knew what I really was.

The money I'd been holding scattered across the floor as my fingers lost their grip, bills fluttering down like damning evidence. His eyes tracked the movement, took in the cash, and something flickered across his expression too fast to read.

He's the one. He's the lycan I bound myself to. And he's high-ranking Bureau. I'm so fucked.

"Supreme Commander," one of the soldiers said, snapping to attention. "No siren signatures detected, but given the location and the anonymous tip, we thought—"

"I can see what you thought," the Commander—my bound mate, the man who fucked me unconscious, the man whose pheromones are the only thing keeping me alive—cut him off, his voice like gravel and ice. "Status report."

"Subject is human female, approximately twenty years old, no identification on person. Strong Alpha pheromone markers indicate recent sexual activity. No siren magnetic field detected, no scale indicators, no gill structures visible. Room was registered under a false name, paid in cash."

Human female. The words should have been a relief, but all I could think about was how fragile this disguise was, how easily it could shatter. One slip, one moment of lost control, and they'd see the scales. They'd see what I really was.

Those golden eyes fixed on me again, and I had to suppress a shudder. There was nothing in them. No warmth, no recognition, no hint of the desperate need that had driven him to take me so brutally just hours ago. He looked at me the way a scientist might examine a specimen—curious, analytical, completely detached.

The way lycan researchers had looked at me in the center, right before they'd started cutting.

He doesn't remember. He has no idea what we did, what we are to each other now.

"You," he said, addressing me directly for the first time. "Name."

I shrank back against the wall, clutching my hands over my chest in a gesture of modesty that probably seemed pointless given the circumstances. But the movement served another purpose—it hid my racing heart, the way my pulse jumped every time I caught a fresh wave of his scent.

"Lorelei," I whispered, because giving a false name now would only make things worse. "Lorelei Caspian."

"Age."

"Twenty."

"Why are you here, Miss Caspian?"

Because you brought me here. Because I manipulated you into bringing me here. Because I was dying and you were my only chance at survival.

"I—" My voice cracked. "I met someone last night. A man. We came here together."

Interest sharpened in those golden eyes, though his expression remained neutral. "This man's name?"

"I don't know." The truth, and all the more damning for it. "We didn't... it wasn't like that. We just—"

"You just fucked," he supplied bluntly, and I flinched at the crudeness even as my body responded to the rough edge in his voice. "Understood. And the money?"

I glanced down at the scattered bills, my cheeks burning. "He left it. When he... when he left this morning."

Something flickered across the Commander's face—distaste, maybe, or judgment. He moved further into the room, and I pressed harder against the wall as he approached. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to fight, to do anything except stand here naked and vulnerable while the most dangerous lycan in the city studied me like a puzzle he was determined to solve.

But underneath the fear, my body was singing. He was close enough now that I could smell him properly, not just the lingering traces on the sheets but the real thing, fresh and overwhelming and perfect. My legs trembled with the effort of staying still, of not closing the distance between us and burying my face against his throat.

I need him. God, I need him so badly it hurts.

"Search her," he ordered, still watching me with those unreadable eyes. "Full sweep. If she's been in contact with a siren, there will be traces."

One of the soldiers stepped forward, and I couldn't stop the small sound of distress that escaped my throat. The idea of strange hands on me, of other lycans touching me when every cell in my body was screaming that I belonged to him—

"No," I said, the word coming out sharper than I'd intended. "No, I don't—I don't want them touching me."

The Commander's eyebrow rose fractionally. "You don't have a choice, Miss Caspian. This is a Bureau investigation, and you are currently our primary suspect in—"

"Then let you do it," I interrupted desperately, meeting his eyes even though every instinct told me to look away. "Please. I don't—I can't stand the thought of strange lycans putting their hands on me. But you're in charge, right? So let it be you."

It was a gamble, and a dangerous one. But I needed him close, needed his scent, needed something to anchor myself before the panic spiraling through my chest turned into full terror. And maybe—maybe if he touched me, if his hands were on my skin again, it would trigger some memory, some recognition.

Please. Please remember me.

The silence stretched. His soldiers shifted uncomfortably, clearly uncertain about this breach of protocol, but none of them dared speak. The Commander studied me for a long moment before he gave a slight nod.

"Everyone out," he said quietly. "Wait in the hall."

"Sir, protocol states—"

"I'm aware of protocol, Lieutenant. I'm also aware that Miss Caspian has just made a reasonable request for her bodily autonomy to be respected during what is clearly already a traumatic situation. I'll conduct the search myself and report any findings. Dismissed."

The soldiers filed out, though I could see the disapproval in their rigid postures. The door closed behind them, leaving me alone with the man who'd destroyed me so thoroughly just hours ago, who now looked at me like I was nothing more than a potential threat to be assessed.

A potential siren to be eliminated.

He moved closer, each step deliberate and controlled, until he stood directly in front of me. This close, I could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the shadow of stubble along his jaw, the way his pupils dilated slightly as he caught my scent—not in recognition, but in pure biological response to pheromones his body knew even if his mind didn't.

"Hands on the wall," he instructed, his voice professionally detached. "Legs apart."

I obeyed, my whole body trembling as I assumed the position. I heard him move behind me, felt the displacement of air as he raised his hands, and then—

His touch. Gloved fingers, the leather cool and impersonal, starting at my shoulders and working methodically down. Over my shoulder blades, along my spine, around my ribcage. Clinical. Thorough. Completely professional, and yet my body responded like he'd set me on fire.

He doesn't remember. He's touching me like I'm evidence, like I'm a potential enemy, and he doesn't remember—

His hands reached my lower back, and I felt him pause. One finger traced over my tailbone, right where the phantom ache of my tail's transformation still lingered, and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from making a sound. If he felt the slight ridge there, the place where scale met skin in the transformation zone—

But he moved on, sliding lower, and I felt my face burn as his hands curved over my ass, squeezed professionally to check for hidden items, then moved down to my thighs. He was thorough. His fingers traced every inch of skin, checking behind my knees, ran down my calves to my ankles.

Looking for scales. Looking for any sign that I was what they hunted.

Then he stepped around to face me, and I found myself staring at his chest, unable to meet his eyes.

"Arms up," he said quietly.

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