[POV: REMI]

"Did you really think the scent of your desperation wouldn't reach me across the table?"

Jaxson didn't even look up from his plate. The silver fork in his hand scraped against the fine china with a screech that set my teeth on edge. The sound vibrated through my jaw, a jagged serration that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

"I'm not doing anything, Jaxson," I whispered. My voice was a thin, brittle thread.

My palms were slick against the mahogany surface of the dining table. A cold moisture pooled in the center of my hands, making the wood feel greasy. Beneath the table, my knees knocked together, a rhythmic tremor I couldn't suppress no matter how hard I pressed my heels into the plush carpet.

"You're breathing," he snapped. He finally lifted his head. His eyes were twin abysses of ice, devoid of the warmth that usually characterized a mate's gaze. "That's doing enough. You're clogging the air with that pathetic, sickly sweet pheromone."

The air in the dining room was heavy, thick with the scent of his morning coffee and the underlying metallic bite of his cologne—something that smelled like ozone and crushed pine needles. But beneath it all, my own body was betraying me. A slow, honeyed heat was beginning to coil in the pit of my stomach, a pulsing warmth that radiated outward to my fingertips.

It was the heat. The mark on my neck felt like a live coal pressed into my skin. It throbbed in time with my heartbeat, a heavy thud-thud that echoed in my inner ear until the room seemed to tilt.

"I can't help it," I said, my voice gaining a desperate edge. "You know I can't. The bond—"

"There is no bond," he cut me off, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "There is a mistake. There is a biological glitch that I am currently choosing to ignore. You would do well to do the same."

He stood up, the chair legs screaming against the floorboards. The sound was a physical blow to my chest. He moved around the table, his presence like a storm front moving in. As he passed me, the air shifted, dragging his scent across my senses. Dark chocolate and rain. It was a cruel irony. My soul wanted to lean into him, to bury my face in the crook of his neck and let the fire consume me.

My body leaned forward instinctively, a magnetic pull I couldn't fight.

He didn't even pause. He walked through the space I occupied as if I were made of glass and mist. His shoulder didn't even graze mine, but the displacement of air felt like a slap.

"You're a ghost in this house, Remi," he said over his shoulder, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as he headed toward the basement door. "Stop acting like you have a heartbeat."

I watched him go, my chest heaving. The silence that followed was worse than his shouting. It was a vast, suffocating weight that pressed down on my shoulders until I felt my spine curve.

I looked down at my plate. The food was untouched, growing cold. My stomach turned, a sharp cramp of nausea twisting my gut. I wasn't a ghost. I was a woman on fire, and he was the only rain in the world—and he was refusing to fall.

I reached up, my fingers trembling as I touched the mark on my neck. The skin was raised, a jagged pattern of heat that felt like it was burning through my very soul.

"I won't die here," I whispered to the empty room. "I won't let you watch me burn to ash."

I pushed away from the table, my movements frantic. I needed a way out. I needed a life where his silence wasn't the only thing I had to listen to.

I ran to my room, the soles of my feet slapping against the cold hardwood. My breath was coming in short, jagged gasps. I pulled my laptop from the desk, my fingers fumbling with the keys. The screen's glow was a harsh, artificial blue against my tear-stung eyes.

I clicked the bookmark I had hidden in a folder labeled "Archives."

Northwestern University - Admissions Portal.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, desperate rhythm. I had applied weeks ago, in the dead of night, while Jaxson was out at the rink. It was thousands of miles away. It was a place where the air didn't smell like him.

The cursor hovered over the login button. My finger shook so hard I had to use my other hand to steady it.

I clicked.

The page loaded with agonizing slowness. I held my breath, the oxygen in the room feeling thin and used up.

Status: Accepted.

A sob broke from my throat, a ragged, ugly sound. I collapsed back against my chair, the plastic biting into my shoulder blades. I could leave. I could pack a bag and disappear before the sun went down.

Then, from the vents in the floor, came the sound.

Skritch. Skritch. Skritch.

It was the sound of his skates being sharpened in the basement. A rhythmic, metallic rasp of steel against stone. It was a predatory sound, steady and unrelenting. It sounded like a countdown.

[POV: JAXSON]

The stone was too soft. Or maybe the steel was too hard.

I pressed the blade of my skate against the spinning wheel, sparks showering my gloved hands in a cascade of orange fire. The vibration traveled up my arms, a numbing, bone-deep hum that helped drown out the noise in my head.

But it didn't drown out the scent.

She was upstairs. I could feel her. Every time her heart sped up, I felt a phantom twitch in my own chest. Every time she breathed out that sweet, cloying heat, my nostrils flared with a hunger that made my stomach knot into a hard, painful mass.

"Focus," I growled at myself.

The basement was cold, smelling of damp concrete and gear, but I was sweating. My jersey was stuck to my back, the fabric heavy and irritating. The mark on my own neck was a screaming red line of agony. It felt like someone was dragging a serrated knife across my skin, over and over, in time with the sharpening wheel.

She thought she was subtle. She thought I didn't see the way her eyes followed me, or the way her hands shook when I got too close.

I hated her for it. I hated her for being the one the universe had chosen to tether me to. She was a weakness. A soft, fragile thing in a world that only respected the blade.

Skritch. Skritch.

I pulled the skate back, checking the edge. It was lethal. It was perfect.

I could hear her footsteps now. They weren't the quiet, hesitant shuffles of the morning. They were quick. Determined.

I felt a surge of something dark and hot in my gut. It wasn't just the bond. It was a territorial roar that made my vision blur at the edges. She was planning something. I could smell the adrenaline on her, sharp and metallic like a coming storm.

I stood up, dropping the skate onto the workbench with a heavy clatter.

I didn't use the stairs. I moved through the shadows of the basement, my senses dialed to a frequency that only she occupied. I could hear the rustle of paper upstairs. I could hear the frantic clicking of a mouse.

I moved toward the back staircase, the one that led directly to the hallway outside her bedroom. My movements were silent, a predator stalking through his own forest.

I reached the top of the stairs and paused. The door to her room was cracked open.

I could see her through the sliver of space. She was standing by the window, her back to me. Her shoulders were squared, her head held high in a way I hadn't seen since the ceremony on the ice.

She was holding a piece of paper. She was smiling.

The sight of that smile—a real, genuine flash of joy that didn't involve me—felt like a spear through my lungs. The air in the hallway turned frigid. My hands curled into fists, the leather of my gloves creaking.

How dare she? How dare she find a light that didn't come from my fire?

I waited until she went into the bathroom, the sound of the shower starting up a low hiss in the background.

I stepped into her room.

The air here was saturated with her. It was a physical weight, a cloud of lilies and that honeyed heat that made my head swim. I walked to the bed, my eyes locking onto the paper she had left on the duvet.

I picked it up.

Admissions Office. We are pleased to inform you...

The words blurred as a red haze descended over my vision. My heart didn't just beat; it exploded against my ribs. The fire on my neck flared into a white-hot agony that stole my breath.

She was leaving. She was going to take that scent, that heartbeat, and that infuriating defiance and hand it to a world full of men who weren't me.

My claws didn't just emerge; they tore through the tips of my gloves.

I didn't think. I didn't weigh the consequences. I only felt the primal, agonizing need to destroy the bridge she was trying to build.

[POV: REMI]

The water was too hot. It turned my skin a bright, angry red, but I didn't care. I scrubbed at my arms, at my neck, trying to wash away the phantom feeling of Jaxson’s presence.

I felt lighter than I had in years. The acceptance letter was a ticket. A key to a cage I had lived in for far too long.

"I'm going," I whispered into the steam. "I'm actually going."

I turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping myself in a thick, white towel. My skin was tingling, the heat of the shower finally dulling the ache of the mate-heat for a few precious seconds.

I wiped the fog from the mirror. I looked at myself. My eyes were bright, the gold in them sparkling with a newfound fire. I looked like someone who had a future.

I walked back into my bedroom, the carpet soft beneath my damp feet.

"Jaxson?" I called out, the name slipping out before I could stop it.

The room was silent. But the air felt different. It felt charged, like the moments before a lightning strike. The smell of dark chocolate was so thick it was almost suffocating.

I looked at my bed.

My heart stopped. The blood drained from my face so fast the world went gray for a second.

The letter was there.

But it wasn't a letter anymore.

It lay in the center of my white duvet, a pile of jagged, white confetti. It hadn't been cut by a blade or torn by hands. The edges were shredded, tattered by something sharp and irregular. There were long, deep gouges in the mattress beneath it, the fabric ripped open to reveal the foam inside.

It looked like the work of an animal.

I stumbled forward, my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream. I picked up a piece of the paper. It was the corner with the university seal. It was damp with a dark, sticky fluid.

I turned around, my back hitting the wardrobe.

Jaxson was standing in the corner of the room, half-hidden by the shadows. His chest was heaving, his jersey torn at the shoulders. His eyes weren't blue anymore. They were a glowing, predatory amber that pierced the darkness.

"You're not going anywhere, Remi," he said.

His voice didn't sound human. It was a guttural, terrifying vibration that seemed to come from the floorboards themselves.

He stepped forward, and I saw his hands. They were stained red, the tips of his fingers elongated into hooked, ivory points.

"You thought you could leave me?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper that was scarier than any shout.

He lunged.

I didn't have time to scream. He didn't grab my waist this time. He grabbed my throat, his claws grazing the sensitive skin of my mate-mark. He slammed me back against the wall, the impact rattling my brain in my skull.

The heat between us was no longer a pulse. It was an explosion.

He leaned in, his nose pressing against the pulse point of my neck. I felt his hot breath, the scent of blood and chocolate overwhelming my senses.

"Tell me you're staying," he growled into my skin. "Tell me you're mine."

I looked into those glowing amber eyes, and despite the terror, despite the pain, I felt the reversal. I felt the power shift. Because in his eyes, I didn't see a monster.

I saw a man who was terrified.

"I'm staying," I whispered, my voice cold and hard as the ice he played on. "But not because I'm yours, Jaxson. I'm staying so I can watch you break trying to keep me."

His grip faltered. For a heartbeat, the monster vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated shock.

And then, the front door downstairs slammed open, and a voice echoed up the stairs.

"Jaxson! We have a problem! The test results came back!"

Jaxson froze, his claws digging slightly deeper into my skin.

"What test results?" I gasped.

He didn't answer. He looked at the door, then back at me, a secret burning in his eyes that made the mate-mark on my neck scream in agony.

"The kind that mean you're not my sister, Remi," he whispered. "And the kind that mean I've been lying to you since the day we met."

[POV: REMI]

"Is this the part where you tell me you're having the time of your life, or should I just keep guessing?"

I turned toward the voice, my silk slip dress shifting against my thighs like a second, cooler skin. The air in the penthouse was a pressurized chamber of bass, expensive gin, and sweat. My heart wasn't just beating; it was a rhythmic hammer against my ribs, a dull ache that radiated through my chest.

"I'm fine, Leo," I said, tilting my head. My throat felt tight, as if a pair of invisible hands were slowly closing around my windpipe. "Better than fine. I'm free."

Leo, the captain of the rival city’s team, leaned against the marble counter. He smelled of sea salt and clean linen, a stark, refreshing contrast to the dark, suffocating musk that usually haunted my lungs. My palms, usually slick with cold sweat when I was near the mansion, were finally dry.

"You don't look free," Leo remarked, his eyes tracing the line of my jaw. "You look like someone waiting for the floor to drop out."

"Maybe I like the drop," I countered. I took a sip of my drink, the liquid burning a cold trail down my throat.

The room was a blur of neon and shadow. I could feel the eyes of the city's elite on me, the "little sister" finally stepping out of the MVP’s shadow. My skin felt electric, a thousand tiny sparks dancing under the surface. It was a rebellion. Every breath I took in this room was a strike against the silence Jaxson had tried to drown me in.

"He’s going to come for you," Leo whispered, stepping closer.

His proximity didn't trigger the fire. The mark on my neck remained dormant, a cold piece of lead beneath my hair. It was a relief so sharp it almost brought tears to my eyes. I wanted this. I wanted to be near someone who didn't make my blood boil and my soul scream.

"Let him," I said, my voice gaining a jagged edge. "I want him to see. I want him to know that I’m not a prop he can just leave in a basement."

"You're bold tonight, Remi." Leo reached out, his thumb grazing the skin of my wrist.

The touch was light, almost nothing, yet my heart jolted. Not with desire, but with the sheer, terrifying realization of what I was doing. I was playing with a wildfire, standing in the middle of a dry forest with a handful of matches.

"I'm tired of being afraid," I lied.

The lie tasted like copper in my mouth. My stomach twisted, a hard knot of dread forming in the pit of my gut. My ears began to ring, a high-pitched drone that started to drown out the thumping bass of the party.

Then, the vibration started.

It wasn't the music. It wasn't the movement of the crowd. It was a low, sub-audible frequency that hummed through the soles of my feet, crawling up my calves and settling in my marrow. The floorboards seemed to moan under the weight of an approaching storm.

"Do you hear that?" Leo asked, his posture straightening, his eyes darting toward the heavy oak doors of the penthouse.

"I feel it," I whispered.

The air in the room suddenly turned freezing. The scent of dark chocolate and ozone—heavy, oppressive, and violent—ripped through the aroma of the party. It was a physical force, a tidal wave of pheromones that made the other guests stagger.

The heavy doors didn't just open; they were thrown back with such force the handles embedded themselves in the drywall.

Jaxson stood there.

He didn't look like a hockey star. He looked like a god of war who had lost his way in a neon wasteland. His eyes were glowing, two embers of amber light that locked onto me with the precision of a heat-seeking missile.

[POV: JAXSON]

"Get your hands off her before I tear them from your shoulders."

The words didn't feel like they came from my throat. They came from the beast that had been clawing at my chest since the moment I realized she had left the house. My blood was a river of liquid fire, surging through my veins until I thought my skin would split from the pressure.

I stepped into the room, and the crowd parted like water before a shark. I didn't see the faces. I didn't see the luxury. I only saw her.

And him.

The sight of Leo’s hand near her skin was a physical wound. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it bruised. The mark on my neck was no longer burning; it was screaming. A white-hot agony that blinded me, leaving only the scent of her as my guide.

"She’s a guest, Jaxson," Leo said, though his voice wavered. He stepped in front of her, a pathetic shield. "She doesn't belong to you."

"You have no idea what belongs to me," I growled.

The floor vibrated with every step I took. My lungs felt like they were filled with broken glass, each breath a sharp, biting reminder of the distance between us. I could smell the sea salt on her now—the scent of him clinging to the silk of her dress.

It made me want to burn the building to the ground.

"Remi, we're leaving," I commanded. My voice was a jagged rasp, stripped of any humanity.

She didn't move. She didn't flinch. She stood there, her small frame framed by the city lights, her honey-gold eyes wide and defiant.

"No," she said.

The word was a bullet. It hit me square in the chest, stopping my momentum. The silence that followed was deafening, a vacuum that sucked the oxygen out of the room.

"What did you say?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper that made the people nearest us flee toward the balcony.

"I said no," she repeated, her voice steady, cold as the ice I lived on. "I'm not your lucky charm. I'm not your prop. And I'm certainly not your sister."

The revelation of the blood test hung in the air, a hidden blade finally drawn. I felt the shock ripple through me, a cold drenching of my rage. She knew. She had found out the lie I had been guarding like a dragon over its gold.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I hissed, taking another step forward.

"I know that you've been lying to me since the day our parents married," she said, her voice rising, cutting through the heavy atmosphere. "I know that there is no blood between us. Which makes this—" she gestured to the space between us, to the invisible, agonizing bond— "so much worse."

She stepped around Leo, walking right into my personal space. She was so close I could see the pulse jumping in the hollow of her throat. She was so close I could feel the heat radiating from her body, a siren call to my soul.

"Are you going to drag me out in front of everyone, Jaxson?" she challenged. "Are you going to show them exactly how much of a monster you are?"

My hand twitched. My claws were itching to emerge, to claim, to mark. But I stayed my hand. The power was shifting. She was holding the leash now, and she knew it.

"You're making a scene," I managed to say, my jaw aching from the effort of not lunging.

"I'm making a choice," she snapped. "And my choice isn't you."

She turned her back on me.

She turned her back on the bond.

I felt a roar build in my chest, a primal, devastating sound that shook my very foundation. The world turned red. The scent of Leo’s sea salt on her skin became an insult I could no longer endure.

[POV: REMI]

I took a step away from him, my legs feeling like they were made of lead. My heart was a frantic drum, a chaotic rhythm that made my head spin. I had done it. I had faced the monster and walked away.

But the air behind me didn't move. It ignited.

Before I could take a second step, a hand wrapped around my upper arm. It wasn't a shove or a pull; it was a total claim. Jaxson swung me around with a grace that was terrifying, pinning me against the marble pillar that stood in the center of the room.

"Leo, move," Jaxson said, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Jaxson, stop it—" Leo started, but Jaxson didn't even look at him. He just threw a backhand that sent the other man sprawling across the floor.

"I won't tell you again," Jaxson growled.

I was trapped. His body was a wall of muscle and heat, pressing me into the cold stone. I could feel the individual buttons of his shirt pressing into my chest. The scent of him was a drug, a thick, intoxicating cloud that began to dissolve my resolve.

My hands came up to push him away, but they ended up gripping his forearms. His muscles were like cords of steel, vibrating with a tension that felt like it could shatter the room.

"Let go," I whispered, but my voice lacked the fire it had moments ago. The mate-mark was winning. It was pulsing a rhythmic heat into my nervous system, turning my bones to wax.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I looked. I looked into the eyes of the man who had lied to me my entire life. I looked into the eyes of the man who was currently destroying my only chance at a normal life.

"You smell like him," he whispered.

His voice had changed. It was no longer a roar. It was a low, velvet promise. He reached up, his hand moving slowly, deliberately. I expected a strike. I expected him to shake me.

Instead, his large, calloused hand slid around my throat.

He didn't squeeze. He didn't choke. His thumb rested right over my windpipe, his fingers splayed across the back of my neck, covering the burning mark with his palm. It was the most possessive, terrifyingly gentle gesture I had ever experienced.

"I can smell the salt on your skin," he breathed, leaning down until his lips were a hair’s breadth from mine. "I can smell where he touched your wrist. It’s like a rot in the air."

My breath hitched. My heart skipped three beats in a row. The electricity between us was no longer a spark; it was a localized lightning storm. I could feel the hair on my arms standing up. I could feel the moisture return to my palms, but this time it wasn't cold. It was hot.

"I don't care," I choked out, though the lie was so thin it was transparent.

"Liar," he whispered.

He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against mine. The tip of his tongue flicked out, tasting the air between us. I felt a shiver cascade down my spine, a violent, beautiful tremor that made my knees buckle.

He held me up by the throat, his grip tightening just enough to let me know I was his. The world around us—the party, the music, the gasping guests—vanished. There was only the stone at my back and the fire in front of me.

"Did you think I couldn't smell him on you?" he asked, his voice vibrating through my skull. "Did you think I’d let you walk around carrying another man’s scent like a trophy?"

"You have no right," I managed to say.

"I have every right," he countered. "Every drop of blood in your body knows who you belong to. Every breath you take is mine to give."

He leaned in, his lips finally grazing the corner of my mouth. It wasn't a kiss. It was a claim.

"You're coming home," he murmured against my skin. "And once we’re behind those doors, I’m going to scrub every trace of him off you until you can only smell me."

He pulled back just an inch, his eyes searching mine. I saw the obsession there. I saw the madness.

And then, his eyes shifted. They moved to something behind me, something over my shoulder. His grip on my throat tightened instinctively, his entire body coiling like a spring.

"What is it?" I whispered, my heart leaping into my throat.

He didn't answer. He looked at the elevator across the room, which had just chimed.

The doors slid open, and a man in a dark suit stepped out, holding a black leather case. He didn't look like a party-goer. He looked like an executioner.

"Jaxson?" the man called out, his voice cutting through the silence of the room. "The board has made their decision. Given the... recent revelations about your family status, your contract has been terminated."

The world went still. The MVP, the god of the ice, had just been stripped of his crown.

Jaxson’s hand dropped from my throat. He turned toward the man, his face a mask of cold fury. But before he could speak, the man continued.

"And Remi? You might want to come with us. Your real father just touched down at the airport."

[POV: JAXSON]

"Get in the car, Remi. Now."

My voice was a jagged edge of ice, cutting through the heavy, humid air of the parking garage. My pulse was a frantic hammer against the base of my throat, each beat sending a fresh wave of adrenaline-fueled fire through my veins. The scent of her—lilies, ozone, and that lingering, traitorous sea salt from the party—was an assault on my sanity.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she snapped, her voice trembling but sharp.

I didn't answer. I reached out, my fingers wrapping around her upper arm. Her skin was scorching hot against my palm, a direct wire to the bond that was currently trying to rip my chest open. I dragged her toward the SUV, the heels of her shoes clicking a frantic, uneven rhythm against the concrete.

"You're hurting me!" she cried out.

I ignored the way my heart lurched at her pain. I ignored the way my wolf was howling in the back of my skull, demanding I soothe the very bruise I was creating. I was the Alpha. I was the MVP. And I was losing control of everything I owned.

I threw the door open and shoved her into the passenger seat. The leather groaned under her weight. I slammed the door, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the empty garage. By the time I slid behind the wheel, my vision was blurring at the edges, turning a dangerous, predatory amber.

"Where are we going?" she demanded, her back pressed hard against the door, her fingers digging into the upholstery.

"To work," I growled.

The drive to the arena was a blur of neon lights and screeching tires. I drove with a reckless, animalistic speed that matched the chaos in my blood. Beside me, Remi was a statue of terror. I could smell the cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, the way her breath came in short, shallow hitches that made my ears ring.

We arrived at the back entrance of the stadium. The massive structure loomed over us like a silent, concrete beast. I used my keycard, the light flashing green with a soft, mocking beep.

"Out," I commanded.

"It's midnight, Jaxson. The lights are off. What are we doing here?"

"I said out!"

I grabbed her again, leading her through the dark, echoing tunnels. The smell of stale popcorn and old ice rose up to meet us. It was my cathedral, my sanctuary, and tonight, it would be her cage.

I pushed through the heavy doors leading to the rink. The air was a sudden, violent drop in temperature, hitting my face like a slap. The ice stretched out before us, a vast, shimmering mirror of white.

"Sit," I said, pointing to the player's bench.

"Jaxson, you're acting crazy. Talk to me." Her voice was small, swallowed by the immense silence of the empty arena. Her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated until the gold was almost gone.

"Sit down, Remi. Don't move. Don't speak. Just watch."

I didn't wait for her response. I vaulted over the boards, my skates hitting the ice with a sharp, echoing clack. I didn't bother with a helmet. I didn't bother with pads. I grabbed a stick and a bucket of pucks, my movements fluid and lethal.

I began to skate.

[POV: REMI]

"Jaxson, stop this!" I screamed, but the sound just bounced off the thousands of empty seats, returning to me as a ghostly mockery.

I sat on the wooden bench, my hands tucked between my knees to stop the shaking. The cold was a physical weight, seeping through the thin silk of my dress until my bones felt like they were made of glass. My heart was a trapped bird, slamming against my ribs with every explosive stride he took on the ice.

He was a blur.

He wasn't skating like a professional; he was skating like a demon. The sound of his blades carving into the ice was a series of violent, rhythmic stabs. Rrip. Rrip. Rrip. The ice was flying up in white clouds behind him, shimmering like diamonds in the dim emergency lights.

He took a puck, and with a flick of his wrists that looked more like an act of war than a sport, he sent it screaming toward the goal.

Clang!

The sound of the puck hitting the metal post was a thunderclap. I jumped, my breath hitching in a throat that felt like it was filled with needles.

He didn't stop. He looped back, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. Sweat was pouring down his temples, flying off his chin as he pivoted. I could smell it even from here—that thick, metallic tang of an Alpha pushed to the brink. It mixed with the scent of the cold ice, creating an atmosphere so heavy I could barely draw air into my lungs.

He grabbed another puck. This time, he didn't aim for the net.

He turned toward me.

My eyes widened. My blood turned to slush in my veins. He drew his stick back, his muscles coiling like a serpent about to strike.

Thwack!

The puck was a black streak of death. It hit the safety glass directly in front of my face with a force that made the entire barrier vibrate.

I shrieked, flinching back, my hands flying up to cover my eyes. The glass didn't break, but the sound—a high-pitched, ringing crack—echoed inside my skull until I thought my ears would bleed.

"Is that enough, Remi?" he roared from the center of the ice. He was heaving, his chest rising and falling with a violent rhythm. "Is that the excitement you wanted at the party? Is that what you were looking for with Leo?"

"You're insane!" I shouted back, my voice cracking. I stood up, my legs feeling like water. "You're trying to kill me!"

"I'm trying to kill the part of me that wants you!"

He skated toward me, not slowing down. He looked like he was going to plow right through the boards and crush me. At the last possible second, he turned his skates sideways, sending a massive spray of ice shavings over the top of the glass.

The white frost coated my hair and shoulders. I stood there, shivering, the ice melting against my warm skin like a thousand tiny stings.

He leaned over the boards, his face inches from mine. The glass was the only thing between us, but it felt like it was melting from the heat radiating off him. His eyes weren't blue anymore. They were a glowing, molten gold that seemed to pierce right through my flesh to the mark on my neck.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he hissed. His breath was hot, smelling of chocolate and iron. "The board is gone. My career is in the dirt. My 'sister' is a stranger who carries the scent of my rival."

"I didn't ask for any of this!" I grabbed the top of the boards, my knuckles white. "I didn't ask for the bond, and I didn't ask for the lies!"

"But you're here," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "And you're not leaving."

[POV: JAXSON]

"Watch me," she said.

The defiance in her voice was a physical strike. It made my wolf snarl, a deep, guttural vibration that started in my diaphragm and filled the entire rink. She actually turned around. She began to walk away from the bench, her small shoulders set in a line of stubborn pride.

The silk of her dress clung to her hips, moving with a taunting rhythm that made my vision swim.

I didn't think. I vaulted over the glass, my skates clattering onto the rubber flooring of the walkway. I was on her in three strides.

I grabbed her waist and spun her around, pinning her back against the cold, hard glass of the rink. The impact made her gasp, the air leaving her lungs in a soft oomph.

"Let go of me, Jaxson!"

She tried to push me, her small hands landing on my chest. I was bare-chested under my open jersey, and the contact of her palms against my skin was like a lightning strike. My heart hammered against her hands, a frantic, rhythmic demand for her to stay.

"No," I growled.

I leaned in, my weight pressing her into the glass. I could feel the cold of the rink behind her and the heat of my body in front of her. She was trapped in the middle, a delicate thing caught between two glaciers.

I reached up, my hands slamming against the glass on either side of her head. The sound was a dull, heavy thud that echoed through the empty arena.

"You think you're going to that college?" I asked, my face inches from hers. "You think you're going to fly away and find some human life where I don't exist?"

"I have the right to a life!" she screamed. Her face was flushed, her eyes wet with tears that refused to fall. "I am not your property, Jaxson! You are not my brother, and you are not my king!"

"I am your mate!"

The word exploded between us, a truth we had both been trying to outrun. The silence that followed was absolute. The only sound was the hum of the cooling system and the frantic, synchronized thudding of our hearts.

I watched as her throat worked, a delicate swallow that drew my eyes to the mark on her neck. It was glowing. A faint, ethereal amber light was pulsing beneath her skin, mocking my attempt to ignore it.

"The bond doesn't care about your rights, Remi," I whispered, my voice breaking. "It doesn't care about my contract. It only cares that I am starving, and you are the only thing that can feed me."

I leaned down, my nose brushing the soft curve of her jaw. She smelled like heaven and a looming storm. My hands moved from the glass, my fingers tangling in her hair, forcing her to look up at me.

"You aren't leaving this city, Remi," I breathed against her lips. "Not until I'm finished with you."

"And when will that be?" she asked, her voice a ghost of a whisper.

"Never."

I lowered my head, my lips hovering just a fraction of an inch above hers. The electricity between us was a physical barrier, a wall of static that made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. I wanted to crush her. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to tear the world apart just to hear her say my name.

She didn't pull away. She leaned in, her breath hitching, her fingers curling into the fabric of my jersey.

"Then finish it," she challenged, her voice a jagged shard of glass. "Do it now, or let me go."

I grew rigid. My wolf was screaming for me to claim her, to sink my teeth into that glowing mark and end this torment. But before I could move, a light flooded the arena.

The giant scoreboard above the ice flickered to life, its hum a sudden, artificial roar.

I looked up, my eyes squinting against the glare.

A message was scrolling across the screen in giant, blood-red letters.

THE TRUTH IS IN THE BLOOD, JAXSON. SHE ISN'T WHO YOU THINK SHE IS.

I felt Remi stiffen beneath me. I looked back at her, and the terror in her eyes was replaced by a look of absolute, soul-crushing realization.

"What is that?" I demanded, my grip on her shoulders tightening. "Remi, what does that mean?"

She didn't answer. She looked past me, toward the dark tunnel we had just come through.

A figure was standing there, silhouetted by the lights of the concourse. He was holding a file, and even from this distance, I could smell the scent of old paper and ancient, rotting earth.

"It means," Remi whispered, her voice trembling so hard I could barely hear her, "that the blood test didn't just say we aren't related, Jaxson. It said I'm not even human."

The man in the tunnel stepped forward, his face coming into the light. It was the same man from the party, but he wasn't wearing a suit anymore. He was wearing the crest of the High Council.

"She’s right, Jaxson," the man said, his voice echoing through the rafters. "She isn't your sister. She’s your prey. And if you don't hand her over now, the entire city will burn."