Emira woke again in the soft bed, her body slow to remember where she was—and what had been done to her. The first thing she felt was the heat. It clung to her skin, curling deep in her belly, a heavy ache that pulsed through her veins no matter how many times she had been brought to the edge. Again and again. Yet somehow, it was never enough.
So this was what heat felt like...
Her lashes fluttered open. The room was cold, so cold that her breath should have fogged the air like smoke-but none of it touched her. Not really. Her body refused to feel anything except need, a desperate, biting hunger she hated even as it consumed her whole.
She shifted, and only then felt the faint pull of the restraints around her wrists. Her hands weren’t tied tightly, but the soft leather cuffs still kept her trapped, marked her as bound, controlled. She could move if she wanted to, could even slip free if she fought hard enough... but that wasn’t the point.
She hated it. Hated the helplessness, the way she was treated like some dangerous creature that had to be contained.
The marks at her neck burned again, a reminder of what she had chosen. A shiver ran down her spine-part fury, part something else she didn’t dare name-and she yanked at the cuffs once, twice, testing the give in them. They held.
The blanket clung to her as she slowly pushed herself upright, biting back a soft gasp when the motion made the sheet drag across her bare skin. Every brush of the fabric felt like fire. Her thighs trembled under the weight of sensations she couldn’t suppress, her body betraying her. She knew what her body wanted. More. Because even though she had come... she craved his hands. Their hands.
Once she was seated, she yanked the blanket tighter around herself, covering what little modesty she could salvage, and glanced down at the cuffs again. Soft leather, padded along the inside so they didn’t bite into her wrists. Not too tight, not too loose. As if someone had taken care to make sure she couldn’t complain.
Her jaw clenched.
She dragged her gaze around the room, scanning for anything—anything—she could use to pry them open. A thin piece of metal. A shard of something sharp. Even a pin would do.
The room, however, was silent. Too silent. No voices. No footsteps. No sign of him anywhere.
The idea came unbidden—she could run. If she freed herself now, she could slip out before he returned. She could leave behind the heat, the confusion, the way her body craved him even while her mind screamed against it.
Emira’s heartbeat kicked up. She leaned forward, searching the bedside table, the floor- anything she could break apart to free herself.
She had just started fumbling with the edge of the nightstand drawer when something small and metallic dropped soundlessly into her lap.
A key.
And Emira went perfectly still and looked up slowly. Her eyes widened. Prince Zen...
His mouth kicked up at her look of horror, but more than that, it was her other reaction that had him stare at her heatedly. No wonder Kael had warned him about coming in here. Her pheromones were already like a drug from the first sniff.
He’d planned to break it to her slowly, but already he could feel his wolf coming out, wanting to mark her. His eyes fell on the three claw marks at the base of her neck and his lips curled up in satisfaction...
Emira felt her body’s instinctive reaction to the Alpha present and her urge to run away returned full force. But her wolf had other plans as it purred within her...
Hurriedly, she grabbed the key that he had thrown at her and with trembling hands uncuffed her hands. Gathering the blanket around her body, she moved to the other side of the bed...ready to make a run for the nearest door, even if it was just the bathroom. But before she could escape, before she could even move, she found herself trapped between Prince Zen and the bed...
"Prince Zen... don’t touch me... I...I’ve promised myself to the Shadow Wolves. Don’t touch me. If you do... you know you will be..."
Emira gulped... She didn’t know what would happen. All she knew was that once she pledged herself to the shadow wolves, no other wolf would be able to touch her, without incurring their wrath... The shadow wolves were no ordinary wolves... They had bound her to them, she knew. They would know everything around her...
Prince Zen’s laugh rolled out low and dark, a sound that made the hair at the back of Emira’s neck rise. He leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him despite the cold bite of the room. "Tsk, tsk... little fire. So sharp, and yet so clueless."
Her throat worked as she swallowed. His breath brushed her cheek, warm where everything else felt frozen, and her body betrayed her again with the slightest shiver.
"You really don’t know, do you?" he continued, voice dropping lower still, "What happens if a wolf touches something claimed by the Shadow Wolves?"
Emira forced herself to keep still even though her body wanted something else.
Zen’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting as though she’d given him the answer he wanted. He leaned in closer until she could feel the faintest whisper of warmth from his skin against hers, the space between them shrinking until it was almost unbearable. When he spoke again, his words were barely more than a murmur, but they slid through her like fire through dry grass.
"The wolf will burn," he said. "That is the price for touching someone who belongs to the Shadow Wolves. You’ve given yourselves to the guardians of the Wolves. So, how can a wolf covet something that belongs to them?
For a moment she just stared, the words unraveling slowly in her mind. Relief swept through her in an unexpected wave, loosening the knot in her chest. From now on, if any man touched her with the wrong intent... he would burn.
She should have felt safe. She should have leaned back, pulled away, done anything to put distance between herself and the Alpha whose nearness made her heart pound far too hard.
But her body had other plans.
Even as she nodded, pretending to focus on the promise in his words, her thoughts scattered, caught on the warmth of him, the strength in the line of his shoulders, the rough edge in his voice. He was so close. Too close.
And traitorous as it was, she wondered what it would feel like to turn her head, to close that last sliver of space, to press her lips to the hard line of his jaw just once, to see if the heat licking through her veins would finally be cool again? Like that of the nameless man who had pleasured her...
As if reading her thoughts, Prince Zen smiled," Are you thinking of how he made you come with your own hands... Do you want that..."