Eliana POV

I couldn't breathe. His golden eyes pinned me, his Alpha aura crushing my lungs. Desperation gave me a sudden, reckless burst of strength. I yanked my wrist from his loosened grip, bowing so low my forehead nearly brushed his boots.

"P-please excuse me, My Lord, the nausea—" I choked out, spinning on my heel and fleeing the Alpha Suite before his beast could fully process the faint scent.

I didn't stop running until I reached the damp, suffocating safety of the servant quarters. I slammed the flimsy wooden door shut, sliding down it until I hit the cold stone floor. My lungs burned, and my hands were shaking violently.

"El? You look like a ghost," Ivonne said, dropping a pile of folded rough linens on her cot.

Before I could answer, the door was violently kicked open, slamming into my shoulder. I cried out, scrambling back.

Jessenia stood in the doorway, flanked by her new shadow, Evie. Jessenia wore a sheer silk dress, deliberately pulled off one shoulder to display the dark, ugly bruises mottling her skin. They weren't the passionate marks of a mating; they were the violent aftermath of an Alpha's wrath. But to the untrained eye, she was parading her new status as a Breeder.

"Look at the little rat, cowering where she belongs," Jessenia sneered, stepping into the cramped room. The cloying stench of her cheap floral perfume filled the air, failing to mask the sour scent of her own fear.

Ivonne stepped in front of me, her Omega wolf bristling. "Leave her alone, Jessenia."

Evie lunged forward, her hand cracking across Ivonne’s cheek with a sickening smack. Ivonne stumbled back, gasping. Before I could even process the movement, Evie grabbed my hair and delivered a stinging slap to my own face. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

"Hold her," Jessenia commanded.

Evie pinned my arms against the damp stone wall. I struggled, but as a Wolfless, I had no strength to fight off an Omega.

Jessenia stepped closer, her eyes wide and manic. From the folds of her silk dress, she pulled out a pair of heavy, iron tailor's shears. The rusted metal glinted in the dim light.

"You always thought you were better than us, Eliana," Jessenia whispered, tracing the cold tip of the shears down my cheek. "With your perfect little face and your stubborn pride. Let's see if any Alpha wants to look at you after I carve it up."

Panic clawed at my throat, but the memory of last night's terror sharpened my mind into a lethal blade. I didn't struggle. Instead, I leaned into the cold iron, locking my eyes onto hers.

"I know," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

Jessenia frowned, pressing the tip harder. "Know what, Wolfless?"

I leaned closer, bringing my lips inches from her ear. "I know what you went through last night," I breathed. "And I know you aren't the woman with the white peach and jasmine scent who triggered his Heat."

Jessenia froze. The color drained from her face so fast she looked like a corpse. Her Omega wolf whimpered, instantly recognizing the fatal danger of her secret. If Jaren found out she was actively hiding the truth while parading as his Breeder, he wouldn't just break her—he would tear her apart.

The shears trembled violently in her hand.

"Get out," Jessenia snapped, her voice cracking.

Evie blinked, confused. "But, Jessenia, we were going to—"

"I said get out!" she shrieked, shoving Evie toward the door. "Both of you, out!"

Evie and Ivonne scrambled into the hallway. The moment the door clicked shut, Jessenia dropped the shears. They clattered loudly against the stone floor.

"If you touch me again," I said, my voice cold and steady despite the throbbing in my cheek, "I will march straight to the Alpha Suite and tell Lord Jaren exactly how you deceived his Inner Wolf."

Jessenia backed away, her chest heaving with terror, before turning and fleeing the room.

I stood alone in the silence, my knees finally giving out. I had won the battle, but the war was already lost. Jaren had smelled me this morning. It was only a matter of time before his beast put the pieces together. I needed to find a sanctuary immediately, a place where even a feral Alpha wouldn't dare to unleash his wrath.

Eliana POV

The heavy iron shears lay on the damp stone floor, a cold reminder of how close I had just come to losing my face.

Ivonne was trembling on her cot, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "El... she's going to kill us. Jessenia is going to tell Lord Jaren—"

"She won't say a word," I interrupted, my voice eerily calm despite the ice freezing my veins. Jessenia was a coward, terrified of the Alpha's wrath. But my victory was hollow. Jessenia wasn't my real problem. Jaren was.

His Inner Wolf had caught the faint trace of white peach and jasmine beneath my disguise this morning. It was only a matter of time before his predatory instincts pieced the puzzle together. I couldn't stay in the servant quarters, and I certainly couldn't stay in the East Wing. I needed a fortress. A place where even a feral, arrogant Alpha wouldn't dare unleash his Command.

There was only one place in the entire Griffin Pack that fit the description.

I grabbed my harsh lye soap and a handful of wet ash, scrubbing my neck until the skin was raw and burning. I had to bury the scent of my White Wolf bloodline completely.

Minutes later, I hurried into the bustling Pack House Courtyard. My timing was desperate, but perfect. Eileen, the Dowager Luna's Head of Staff, was standing near the fountain. The faint, steady scent of chamomile drifted from her, a stark contrast to the aggressive auras of the Warriors. She was looking for a temporary maid.

I didn't hide in the back like I usually did. I stepped forward, keeping my eyes glued to the cobblestones. I slumped my shoulders, projecting the absolute, non-threatening submission of a Wolfless.

"Excuse me, ma'am," I murmured, my voice soft and deferential. "I am a fast worker, and I know how to keep my head down and my mouth shut."

Eileen paused. I could feel her Beta senses sweeping over me. She inhaled, searching for any deceitful Omega or Alpha traits. All she found was the pungent, eye-watering stench of cheap lye soap and the pathetic aura of a Wolfless girl.

"You'll do," Eileen said briskly, her tone practical. "Three days trial in the Dowager's parlor. Do not speak unless spoken to."

Relief washed over me, so intense my knees nearly buckled. I had made it into the eye of the storm.

By mid-afternoon, I was dressed in a crisp, clean uniform, carrying a silver tray of tea into the Dowager's Parlor. The room was suffocatingly grand. The air was thick with the scent of aged agarwood—Josephine Griffin's signature aura. Even sitting quietly in her armchair, the Dowager Luna radiated an ancient, crushing authority.

I had just set the teacups down when the heavy mahogany doors slammed open.

The intoxicating, violent scent of dark rum and cedar instantly devoured the agarwood. My heart stopped. Jaren strode into the room, his jaw clenched, his golden eyes flashing with a rebellious fire.

Panic seized my throat. I immediately shrank back, pressing myself into the darkest corner of the parlor, praying the shadows and my lye soap would hide me.

"You summoned me, Grandmother," Jaren said, his voice a low, disrespectful drawl as he threw himself onto a velvet sofa.

Josephine’s eyes narrowed, her Inner Wolf bristling at his insolence. "I hear you have elevated a filthy, low-born Omega to your bed. A Breeder named Jessenia."

I held my breath, pressing my spine against the cold wall.

Jaren scoffed, a cruel, dismissive sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "She's a plaything, Grandmother. A warm body to take the edge off the Heat. Nothing more."

The absolute callousness in his voice made my blood run cold. Jessenia thought she had won a prize, but to him, she was less than dirt.

"The Griffin bloodline is not something to be toyed with," Josephine snapped, her Luna aura flaring. "It is time you took a proper Fated Mate, or at least a high-ranking Luna. Princess Esmeralda Wheeler of the Northern Tundra Pack is visiting. You will meet her tonight."

A guttural growl vibrated in Jaren’s chest. His Alpha beast violently rejected the command. "I don't care about your Pack politics, and I certainly don't care about some boring, spoiled pureblood Princess."

He stood up abruptly, his massive frame towering in the room. "I will take whoever I want, whenever I want. And no one—not even you—will dictate my choices."

Without waiting for a dismissal, Jaren turned and stormed out of the parlor, the doors shuddering on their hinges.

I remained frozen in the corner, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Jaren had just defied the highest authority in the Pack without a second thought. He was a monster entirely unbound by rules. If he ever discovered I was the woman he was truly hunting, there would be nowhere left in this world to hide.

Jaren POV

The heavy mahogany doors of my grandmother’s parlor slammed shut behind me, but the suffocating scent of her aged agarwood still clung to my senses. My Inner Wolf was pacing, agitated by her demands for a pureblood Princess. I didn't need a political pawn. I needed the woman who had set my blood on fire.

I strode into my Alpha Suite, expecting the familiar comfort of dark rum and cedar. Instead, a repulsive, synthetic floral stench assaulted my nose.

Jessenia was draped across my leather sofa, wearing a sheer silk nightgown that left nothing to the imagination. She smiled, a trembling, desperate attempt at seduction. "My Lord," she purred, shifting to display the bruises I had left on her arms. "I thought you might need... relief."

My beast snarled in pure disgust. The deception was glaringly obvious now. The woman from that night had tasted like heaven; this Omega smelled like cheap desperation.

"Stand up," I ordered.

She scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide.

"Take it off." I let my Alpha's Command bleed into my voice, heavy and absolute.

Jessenia gasped, her Omega wolf whimpering under the crushing weight of my aura. Her trembling hands reached for the silk straps, letting the gown pool at her feet. I stepped closer, my golden eyes locking onto her bare skin. I didn't care about her body. I stared directly at her collarbone.

Smooth. Unblemished.

There was no bite mark. The deep, bone-crushing puncture my canines had left in the throes of my Heat was completely absent.

A violent, blinding rage ripped through me. I had been played.

"Get out," I snarled, my voice dropping to a lethal, icy whisper.

"Jaren, please, I—"

"Get out before I tear your throat out!" I roared.

Jessenia sobbed in sheer terror, snatching her gown and fleeing the suite.

I poured a glass of dark rum, my knuckles white as I gripped the crystal. The fake was gone, but the real one was still out there.

Through the heavy oak door, my enhanced hearing picked up the frantic patter of footsteps in the corridor. Jessenia had intercepted Elsie, one of the maids.

"What happened?" Elsie whispered.

"It's that little Wolfless rat, Eliana!" Jessenia hissed, her voice venomous with jealousy. "She got herself transferred to the Dowager Luna's parlor this afternoon. She's playing the innocent victim, but I know she's just trying to seduce him! She wants to be close to him!"

*Eliana.*

The glass in my hand shattered, amber liquid spilling over my fingers.

The pieces slammed together in my mind with sickening clarity. The Wolfless maid from this morning. The one scrubbing the floors, reeking of harsh lye soap and wet ash. The one who had buttoned my shirt, trembling like a leaf. When I had leaned in, my nose brushing her collarbone, I had caught it—the faintest, buried trace of white peach and jasmine.

She had hidden the bite mark under the mud. She had masked her scent. She had been right under my nose.

My Inner Wolf let out a low, vibrating growl of pure obsession.

By midnight, the Pack House was dead silent, but my blood was boiling. I prowled the grounds, my instincts dragging me toward the edge of the Dowager Luna's courtyard. The night air was crisp, but then it hit me.

Without the lye soap, without the ash, the scent was undeniable. White peach and jasmine. It was a siren song, pulling me toward the flimsy wooden washroom near the servant quarters.

I didn't knock. I kicked the door. The cheap wood splintered and gave way instantly.

Thick steam rolled out into the cool night. Inside, Eliana gasped, her eyes wide with absolute terror. She scrambled backward in the large wooden tub, trying to sink beneath the soapy water to hide her naked body.

But she wasn't fast enough.

My gaze locked onto her pale, wet skin. Right there, on her delicate collarbone, were the angry, healing puncture wounds of my teeth.

*Mine!* my beast roared, a primal sound that shook the very foundations of my soul.

"My Lord, please—" she choked out, shrinking against the back of the tub.

I crossed the damp room in two strides. I didn't care that she was Wolfless. I didn't care about the Dowager's rules. I grabbed her wet, trembling chin, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes were wide, swimming with desperate tears, but I felt no mercy—only a ravenous, all-consuming hunger.

I crashed my lips onto hers.

The second our skin touched, a violent electric spark exploded through my veins. It was a jolt of pure, agonizing pleasure that stole the breath from my lungs. She whimpered, her small hands pushing weakly against my chest, but I only deepened the kiss, claiming the taste of her.