Chapter 6

Alistair Caldwell

Dawn broke over Blackwood Estate with the kind of pale, hesitant light that never quite managed to warm the stone. I stood at the window of my study, watching the mist curl through the pines, and tried to ignore the dull ache still pulsing behind my eyes—the lingering aftermath of last night's episode.

The door opened without a knock. Sebastian knew better than to keep me waiting when I'd summoned him.

"My lord." His voice was steady, but I caught the tension in it as he dropped to one knee.

"Explain." I didn't turn from the window. "Why was the perimeter unsealed?"

"My lord, I—" He stopped, swallowed. "Your father summoned me. Both of your parents required my immediate presence at the main residence for an urgent family matter. I left Garrett in charge of the watch."

"And?"

"When your feral state advanced early, the Alpha pressure was too strong. Garrett couldn't maintain his post. He was... driven back by instinct."

I turned slowly, letting him see the ice in my gaze. "So he ran."

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian's jaw tightened. "In his panic, he failed to reseal the ward. That's how—"

"How a human girl walked straight through my defenses as if they were nothing." I crossed to my desk, each step measured. "Tell me, Sebastian. What use is a Beta who abandons his post? What use is a second-in-command who leaves his Alpha unguarded?"

"None, my lord." His head bowed lower. "I take full responsibility."

"You should." I sat down, steepling my fingers. "West Coast division. The Riverside project is a disaster—three months behind schedule, bleeding money, and the local pack is one step away from open rebellion. You'll fix it."

His head snapped up, eyes wide. "My lord—"

"Half a month," I continued, my tone flat. "If it's not resolved by then, don't bother coming back."

The color drained from his face, but he knew better than to argue. "Yes, my lord. I'll leave immediately."

My fingers lingered on the file for a moment—Serena Winslow, the name printed neatly at the top—before I closed it and looked up.

"One more thing." I leaned forward, letting my voice drop. "This incident—the girl, the breach, all of it—never happened. No reports. No records. And especially no word to my parents. Understood?"

"Completely, my lord."

"The surveillance footage?"

"Already deleted. Every trace erased."

"And Garrett?"

"I'll handle him personally before I leave." Sebastian's expression hardened. "He won't talk."

"See that he doesn't." I waved a hand in dismissal. "Go."

He rose, backed three steps, then turned and left. The door clicked shut, and I was alone.

Finally.

I unlocked my desk drawer, then the hidden compartment within. The necklace lay coiled on black velvet like a sleeping snake, the silver chain gleaming in the dim morning light. But it was the stone that drew my eye—that oval of deep purple that seemed to glow from within, its surface rippling with an otherworldly sheen.

I picked it up, letting the chain pool in my palm. The metal was warm. Or maybe that was just my imagination.

But the scent wasn't imagined. Wild roses and rain-soaked earth, with an undertone of something sweeter, more delicate. Feminine.

Hers.

I brought the necklace closer and breathed in. The tension in my shoulders eased. The headache that had been building since I woke faded to a distant throb, and Fenrir—who'd been prowling restlessly in the back of my mind all morning—went quiet.

Not subdued. Not cowed.

Just... calm.

I closed my eyes and let the memory surface, though every instinct screamed at me to lock it away.

The feral state had hit without warning. One moment I'd been reviewing reports, the next I was on the floor, bones cracking as Fenrir clawed to the surface. The pain had been excruciating, but worse was the rage—the all-consuming need to hunt, to kill, to rend.

Then I'd caught her scent.

Even through the bloodlust, even with Fenrir drowning out my thoughts, I'd smelled her. That impossible combination of wild roses and earth and something indefinably other that cut through the madness like a blade.

Fenrir had gone still.

I'd tracked her through the garden, every sense locked on that scent. She'd been standing beneath the lunar laurel tree, one hand pressed to the bark, moonlight turning her dark hair to silk.

When she'd turned and seen me—seen Fenrir in his full, monstrous glory—she should have screamed. Should have run. Should have triggered every chase instinct and ended up as nothing more than a cautionary tale.

Instead, she'd frozen. Stared.

And then she'd knelt.

Not in submission—I would have recognized that. No, she'd knelt the way someone approaches a wounded animal. Slowly. Carefully. One hand extended, voice soft as she murmured apologies for intruding.

And Fenrir—that ancient, savage part of me that had torn apart challengers and sent lesser wolves fleeing—had melted.

There was no other word for it. My wolf had approached her like some oversized puppy, had pressed his massive head into her palm and whined when she'd hesitated. Had sprawled at her feet with his belly exposed in a display of trust I'd never shown another living soul.

It was humiliating.

Infuriating.

And I still didn't understand it.

Fenrir. I didn't speak aloud. Explain yourself.

Silence. Then a ripple of awareness, distinctly separate from my own thoughts yet inextricably bound to them.

You want explanations? His voice was a low rumble in my mind. You're the one who took her token. You're the one who can't stop touching it.

That's not an answer. I set the necklace down, though my fingers itched to pick it up again. Why did you submit to her? You've never shown your throat to anyone. What made you roll over for a human girl like some—

Some what? Fenrir's amusement was palpable. Some lovesick pup?

You're a disgrace. I turned back to the window. Outside, the mist was burning off. She could have been anyone. A spy. An assassin. And you wanted her to scratch your ears.

I wanted her to touch us. No shame in his tone. Only bone-deep certainty. Her scent—you felt it too. The moment she came close, everything in us recognized something. Don't pretend you didn't feel it.

She's human. My voice was sharp even in my own mind. Fragile. Powerless. There's nothing about her that should have affected us at all.

Liar.

The word hung between us, blunt and uncompromising.

You felt the pull, Fenrir insisted. The way her scent cut through the feral haze. The way touching her made the pain stop. You felt it, Alistair. You also sensed her special effect on us.

I closed my eyes, one hand bracing against the window frame. He wasn't wrong. I had felt it. That inexplicable sense of rightness when she'd touched Fenrir's head, when her fingers had tangled in silver fur and her voice had washed over us like cool water on burning skin.

For those few precious moments, the Soul Blight had loosened its grip. The constant ache, the maddening pressure—all of it had faded to nothing.

And when I'd shifted back, when I'd stood before her and seen fear dawn in her eyes, I'd wanted to reach out and pull her close. To bury my face in her hair and breathe in that scent until the pain disappeared entirely.

Instead, I'd taken her necklace.

You're thinking about her again, Fenrir observed smugly. Admit it. You want to see her. You want to know why she affects us this way.

I want to understand the anomaly. My tone was cold. Nothing more.

Keep lying to yourself. His laughter rumbled through me. But I was there. I felt your heart race when she touched us. I felt how you wanted to mark her, claim her, keep her where no one else could—

Enough. I slammed the mental door between us. He retreated with a huff, but I could still feel him there in the back of my mind.

Watching.

Waiting.

Smug bastard.

I picked up the necklace again, letting it dangle from my fingers. The stone spun slowly, catching the light, and I found myself transfixed by the play of colors—purple deepening to indigo, shot through with veins of silver that pulsed like a heartbeat.

She'll come back for it, Fenrir murmured, softer now. Humans are sentimental. And this meant something to her. You saw her face.

I had. I'd seen her eyes widen when I'd taken it, seen her hand fly to her bare throat. She'd pleaded, offered money, offered anything if I'd just return it.

But I hadn't.

Because the moment that stone had settled into my palm, I'd known I couldn't let it go.

Not yet.

When she comes back, I said slowly, I'll be ready.

And then what? Fenrir's curiosity was almost playful. Will you give it back? Or find another reason to keep her here?

I didn't answer. He already knew the truth, even if I wasn't ready to admit it aloud.

She'd walked through my wards. She'd calmed the feral rage. She'd made me feel something other than pain for the first time in years.

And I was going to find out why.

Even if it meant keeping her necklace locked away. Even if it meant she'd have to come back, desperate and pleading.

Even if it meant I was already far more interested in this trespassing little human than any Alpha had a right to be.

I closed my fist around the moonstone, feeling its warmth seep into my skin.

Let her come.

I'll be waiting.