Chapter 3

• KAEL
• The small red-haired woman did not speak once during the drive. She did not look out the window. She did not shift in her seat. She did not ask where we were going. She sat perfectly still, hands clasped in her lap, her face blank, like whatever was inside her had already gone quiet.
• When the car stopped, my men opened the doors and helped her out. She did not fight them. She followed them to the hotel room without a sound.
• The trip had been quick. Fifteen minutes, maybe less. Brex’s suggestion. Somewhere close, in case I never made it back to the Grand Moon Hall. He always thought ahead. Usually, I respected that.
• My phone buzzed in my pocket. Then again. I ignored it. Someone would pull Brex’s attention away soon enough. They always did.
• I still did not fully understand why I had taken the redhead from the ball. At first, it was simple. A reason not to go back inside. An easy escape. But the truth came quickly after. Alaric Stonefang had found his mate tonight.
• And it had not been her.
• She was beautiful. That was clear once I truly looked at her. Smaller than most wolves. Fragile in a way that stood out among stronger bodies. Her face was soft and round, framed by red hair streaked with gold. Freckles dusted her nose. Her skin was pale, smooth, untouched by sun or outdoor life.
• But that was not why I took her. Beauty surrounded me every day. Women were always offered. Smiling. Hopeful. Waiting for interest or destiny to choose them. I liked women. I always had. But none of them caught my attention the way she did.
• I did not know why.
• Maybe it was the fear in her eyes when she ran. Not loud panic. Quiet fear. The kind that lives deep inside. My wolf reacted to that. He wanted to pull her close, to protect her.
• Maybe it was the thought of her torn dress in a room full of wolves. She would not have been safe like that. Wolves did not always stop themselves.
• The private elevator lifted us in silence. Her arms stayed locked around her body, holding the ruined dress together.
• My wolf stirred again. Uneasy. Angry. We had both seen the bruises on her back earlier. Dark marks. Shaped like fingers. I assumed they belonged to Alaric.
• Maybe she liked rough hands. Some women did. Even so, I did not like seeing marks on her. I did not like knowing she had been hurt. I especially did not like the idea of another man leaving his mark on her. That reaction surprised me. I rarely cared about a woman’s past or who she had been with.
• “What’s your name?” I asked when we entered the penthouse.
• “Aria.”
• “Aria.” I repeated it slowly. “Do you know why I brought you here?”
• “It’s obvious.” Her voice was calm. Then she let her hands fall.
• The top of her dress slid down. She did not rush to pull it back up. She looked straight at me. Challenging. Exposed. Her breasts were full, pale, soft, her nipples light pink. My chest tightened. My wolf approved loudly.
• I smiled instead.
• “I don’t have another dress for you,” I said. “So you won’t be going back to the ball. But you don’t have to stay in that all night.”
• Confusion crossed her face as I walked to the closet. Brex hated careless appearances. He said it looked bad when women left wearing the same clothes as the night before. Hotels like this always kept extras. I found jeans and a t-shirt that looked close to her size and tossed them onto the bed. Then I turned around.
• “Do you want a drink?”
• “What?”
• “Something to drink.” I kept my voice calm. My eyes caught her reflection in the mirror. She was watching me. She still had not changed. “Liquor. Beer. Wine. Soda.”
• “Wine. Red.”
• She pulled the t-shirt over her head and let the dress fall to the floor. I looked away and poured the drinks. Bourbon for me. Red wine for her.
• When I turned back, she still had not put on the jeans. The shirt barely covered her thighs. Bare skin. Pale and smooth. It pulled my attention more than it should have. It was summer, and most wolves carried color from the sun. She did not.
• I looked longer than I meant to.
• I reminded myself that I had not brought her here to sleep with her. I told myself again. I brought her here to get her away from danger. To give her space. To let her leave if she wanted. But she moved through the room half-dressed, and my thoughts slipped.
• Her eyes moved over me, curious and open. When I noticed, she turned away fast.
• Submissive.
• My wolf pushed closer to the surface. My interest followed. Images came to mind before I stopped them. Calling her closer. Telling her what to do. Touching her skin to see if it was as soft as it looked. I shut those thoughts down hard.
• I handed her the glass. She drank too quickly and coughed.
• “How old are you?” I asked.
• “Twenty-two.” She paused. “Can I have another?”
• “Later.” I took the glass back. “If you put the jeans on, I can have someone take you wherever you want to go.”
• “You really brought me here just to change clothes?” Her eyes sharpened.
• “And to let you calm down,” I said. “You stood out. Wolves fight. They don’t run. What kind of wolf runs like that?”
• “A princess,” she said quietly. Then she laughed, like the sound surprised her. “So you’re saving me?”
• I snorted. “I’m not a hero.”
• “I’m not heartbroken,” she said. Her eyes went distant, heavy, like something inside her would not move.
• She looked shattered anyway. Completely. Her words did not match her.
• “Then what are you?” I asked.
• She did not answer. She walked to the window and stared outside. “I don’t know this place. Where should I go?”
• I wanted to push. I was not used to being ignored. I did not like not knowing. But I remembered why I was here. I had responsibilities. Meetings. An end to this night.
• “Home.”
• Her face tightened. “I can’t. I need air. I need time.”
• “You’ll think clearer with pants on.”
• She looked at me. “You really don’t understand women. No one thinks better in jeans.”
• “What are you thinking about?”
• “That it’s finished,” she whispered. So softly I almost missed it. “So that’s it? You just brought me here to fix me up?”
• “Is that so hard to believe?”
• “I see how you look at me.”
• I smiled faintly. “I can mean well and still notice.”
• “Why were you outside the hotel?”
• “You ask a lot of questions, little bird.”
• Her eyes widened. “Little bird?”
• “Small. Wounded. Not ready to fly yet.” I waited for her to argue. She didn’t. She nodded.
• “I’m stalling,” she said softly. “Is that bad?”
• “No.” I paused. “I was stalling too. Balls are not my kind of night.”