Catherine’s POV

I stood frozen in the doorway like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

Mrs. Hargrove wrung her hands nervously beside me while Harold looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

the woman standing in the middle of the living room looked nothing like them.

She was tall and beautiful and every strand of her black hair sat perfectly in place. Her heels alone probably cost more than everything inside this house.

And the way she looked at me? Like I was dirt stuck beneath her shoe.

“Daughter?”

Amelia let out a scoff.

“Trust me, I’m just as shocked as you are.”

One of the suited men stepped forward to take her expensive coat but she waved him off impatiently.

“This place still smells,” she muttered. “Unbelievable.”

Harold sighed tiredly.

“Amelia…”

“No, seriously.” She crossed her arms. “You couldn’t renovate? Even a little?”

Mrs. Hargrove’s face fell slightly, but she forced a smile.

“We didn’t know you were coming.”

“Because I wasn’t planning to.”

The room went awkwardly silent and I shifted uncomfortably near the doorway, clutching my grocery bag tighter.

Amelia finally looked at me again.

“And who exactly is she?”

The question came out sharply.

Mrs. Hargrove brightened immediately.

“Oh. Catherine lives with us.”

“Lives with you,” Amelia repeated slowly.

“Yes,” Harold answered carefully. “She’s been with us for years.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed.

“Cute.”

Something about the way she said it made my stomach tighten.

“She’s practically family,” Mrs. Hargrove added warmly.

Big mistake.

Amelia barked out a humorless laugh.

“Family?” She pointed at herself. “Interesting word choice considering you threw your actual daughter away years ago.”

Mrs. Hargrove flinched like she’d been slapped and guilt instantly crawled up my throat. I suddenly wanted to disappear into the kitchen cabinets.

“Amelia,” Harold said quietly, “that’s not fair.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “You both wrote me off first. Don’t act heartbroken now.”

“You vanished,” Mrs. Hargrove whispered. “For twenty years.”

“Yeah and whose fault was that?”

“That’s enough, honey.” Another voice spoke calmly behind her.

My breath caught instantly as a man stepped into view from the hallway.

He tall with dark hair and in an expensive black suit molded perfectly against broad shoulders.. and his scent hit me immediately.

Werewolf…!

My weak dormant wolf stirred so suddenly inside me that it actually hurt.

His sharp gray eyes landed on me.. and narrowed.

Every werewolf could recognize another one eventually but powerful wolves sensed it almost instantly.

His gaze sharpened slightly and mine widened in panic.

Please don’t say anything.. Please.

Amelia walked over and looped her arm through his casually.

“This is my fiancé, Alex Granger.”

Fiancé??

Of course a man that rich-looking would be engaged to a woman like her.

Alex extended a polite hand toward Harold first.

“Good to meet you, sir.”

Harold shook it awkwardly and then Alex smiled gently at Mrs. Hargrove.

“Ma’am. Thank you for allowing us into your home.”

He spoke with such a calm and controlled. Nothing like the arrogant Alphas back in Silvercrest.

His eyes slid back to me again briefly and a silent conversation passed between us.

Wolf.

Hidden wolf.

Fear.

Recognition.

I quickly looked away before I embarrassed myself but Amelia noticed. Unfortunately.. her eyes narrowed immediately.

“Oh my God,” she said flatly. “Don’t tell me the replacement has a crush on my fiancé already!”

My entire face burned.

“What? No!”

“She doesn’t,” Mrs. Hargrove defended quickly.

“He gets stared at everywhere.” Amelia took a step towards me. “But keep dreaming bitch. She's mine!”

Alex sighed softly. “Amelia.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Instead, I forced a weak smile.

“I’ll just… put the groceries away.”

“Good idea,” Amelia muttered as I hurried into the kitchen so fast I nearly tripped over a chair.

Gods… Rich people were terrifying.. especially rich werewolves.

A few minutes later, I returned quietly with tea for everyone mostly because I needed something to do with my hands before anxiety killed me.

Amelia barely touched hers.

“We’re getting married this weekend,” she announced suddenly. “Here in Oakhaven.”

Mrs. Hargrove blinked.

“So soon?”

Alex nodded politely.

“Business schedules.”

“Translation,” Amelia cut in, “his investors and political connections are ridiculously annoying.”

She reached into her purse and dropped an invitation card onto the table.

“You should come,” she said casually. “Alex insists on meeting family.”

The word family sounded bitter coming from her mouth.

Harold looked emotional already.

“We’d love to.”

“Great.” Amelia stood immediately. “Then that’s settled.”

Mrs. Hargrove looked heartbroken all over again.

“Amelia, can’t you stay longer? We have so much to talk about...”

“No.”

The answer came fast and cold.

Alex glanced at her carefully but she ignored him.

“I came because Alex wanted this awkward little reunion. We did it. Congrats. Everyone survived.”

Mrs. Hargrove’s eyes watered and my chest hurt for her.

Alex gently touched Amelia’s arm.

“Be nice.”

She scoffed.

“You know I don’t do that.” Then she turned to him.

“Come on. Let’s leave this shit hole.”

Harold’s jaw tightened while Mrs. Hargrove looked close to tears. But Alex only sighed tiredly like this happened often. Before leaving, his gaze found mine one last time.. then he walked out after Amelia.

***

The wedding day arrived way too fast and I already regretted coming.

I was nervous.. very nervous. Because ever since meeting Alex Granger, my wolf had been restless and if one powerful werewolf was attending this wedding… others would too. I knew it the second we arrived.

There were dominant wolves everywhere. My skin prickled immediately.

“Oh God,” I muttered under my breath.

Mrs. Hargrove smiled brightly beside me.

“Isn’t this lovely?”

No. It was horrifying.

Every instinct inside me screamed prey animal.

I kept my head down the entire ceremony.

The wedding itself blurred by. Amelia looked stunning and Alex looked calm and unreadable.

But the guests? Terrifying.

By the reception, I was already exhausted.

I stayed mostly near the shadows, pretending to enjoy the music while avoiding eye contact with literally everyone.

I didn’t belong here.. not even a little.

My champagne flute emptied too quickly.

“Okay,” I muttered. “One more drink then I vanish dramatically into the night.”

That sounded like a solid plan.

I wandered toward a nearby serving table and spotted a tray filled with dark red wine in crystal glasses.

I grabbed one carefully and took a sip.

Oh wow.

“That is dangerously good,” I whispered.

“You idiot!”

I nearly choked from the sudden yell behind me as a furious woman stormed toward me in a dark green gown.

Her red hair blazed under the ballroom lights while sharp green eyes burned into me.

“Who told you to touch that?!”

My eyes widened.

“I... I’m sorry?”

“That tray is reserved for VIP guests!”

Oh Gods.. not again. Why did rich people always have special trays? Was oxygen reserved too?

“I didn’t know...”

“Did you drink it already?” she snapped.

Something about her tone scared me instantly and fear curled in my stomach.

“N-no,” I lied quickly.

Her sharp eyes scanned my face and then thankfully she huffed.

“Good.”

Before I could react, she snatched the glass from my hand and dumped the wine into a nearby flower pot.

“You already contaminated this one too.”

Contaminated? What kind of reaction was that?

Another guest approached smiling nervously.

“Lady Helen Ashmoor, the northern delegates are asking for you.”

My eyes widened instantly.

Helen Ashmoor? The Helen Ashmoor?

Hope burst alive inside me before I could stop it.

“You’re Helen Ashmoor?”

She looked annoyed already.

“Yes?”

My smile spread immediately.

“Oh my God. I heard about you years ago. Some outcasts told me about your sanctuary for rejected wolves and outcasts and oppressed werewolves and...”

Helen stared at me blankly and I slowed awkwardly.

“You’re helping people,” I finished weakly.

Her expression didn’t soften at all. In fact, she looked irritated.

“People romanticize everything,” she muttered coldly.

Then she walked away without another word and I stood there stunned.

“…wow.”

That woman was rude as hell. How was she running a safe haven with that attitude?

I turned around awkwardly... and slammed directly into a solid chest.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry...”

The words died instantly and my breath caught.

It was him..!

Every sound around me faded at the sight of his tall and massive form with a dark suit stretching across a heavily muscular body.

He had golden eyes, scars visible near his throat and a terrifying aura.

The Lycan King.. Gerald Draven!

I had heard stories even hiding among humans. Monsters feared him. Alphas bowed to him. Women obsessed over him. And standing this close to him? I suddenly understood why.

“I... I...” I couldn't get the words out.

His deep golden eyes studied me calmly and then surprisingly… he smiled slightly.

“It’s alright.”

His voice slid over my skin and I nearly forgot how breathing worked.

He picked up a glass from the same tray Helen had guarded like treasure and held it toward me.

“Here. You need it.”

My fingers trembled taking it.

“T-thank you.”

His gaze lingered on me for one strange second and then he walked away.. just like that.

I stared after him like an idiot. No wonder women lost their minds around him.

I quickly drank the wine to calm myself.

Bad idea.. because minutes later, warmth spread strangely through my body and my legs suddenly felt weak.

“Oh no.”

The ballroom blurred slightly and sleepiness crashed into me hard.. something else too.. heat.

Deep between my thighs and my breathing hitched.

“What the hell…”

I needed to leave.. now.

Before somebody noticed something was wrong.

I hurried from the ballroom toward the private hotel rooms upstairs. Thankfully, the entire hotel had been booked for wedding guests.

My hands shook unlocking one random room. The second I got inside, I slammed the door shut.

My body burned.

“What is happening to me?”

I kicked off my heels desperately while every breath made the ache between my legs worse.

I stumbled toward the bed, tugging my dress down my shoulders shakily.

“Okay… okay… maybe I’m sick…”

But even I didn’t believe that.

A soft whimper escaped me as I touched my thigh.

Heat shot through me instantly.

“Oh God…”

My breathing turned shaky.

I rubbed myself desperately through my underwear, trying to ease the unbearable ache building inside me.

The feeling only got worse and needier and hotter.

My head tipped back helplessly and then...

The bedroom door clicked open behind me and I froze with a terrified scream left in my throat as I spun around…

Catherine’s POV

I spun around with a startled gasp as the door clicked shut behind me. My back hit the edge of the bed, and there he stood—the most terrifying man I’d ever seen.

Gerald Draven.

The Lycan King of the North filled the doorway like a gathering storm, all raw power and barely leashed control. His black jacket was already discarded somewhere in the hall. The top buttons of his crisp white shirt hung open, revealing a brutal landscape of scars that climbed his thick, corded neck and vanished beneath the fabric. Those golden eyes glowed faintly in the low lamplight, locking onto me with a hunger that stole the breath from my lungs.

He wasn’t surprised to see me. He looked like he’d been searching for me all night.

“You…” My voice cracked. Heat surged through my blood again, fiercer than before. “You need to leave. Please—”

The words dissolved as another wave of scorching need crashed over me. My thighs pressed together instinctively, but it only made things worse—a fresh rush of slick warmth soaked through my ruined panties. I trembled, fighting the pull.

Gerald’s massive hands gripped the wooden doorframe so tightly I heard the wood creak and splinter. His broad chest rose and fell in heavy, deliberate breaths. A low, guttural sound rumbled from deep in his throat, like a desperate groan.

“I can smell you,” he rasped, his voice like a dark siren song. “Sweet and mine.”

I shook my head frantically, even as my traitorous body stepped toward him. My wolf, silent for four long years, slammed against my ribs, howling to break free. She recognized him. She wanted him or more accurately, she needed him with a ferocity that terrified me.

He stalked forward with predatory grace, the door shutting behind him with a heavy final click. His scent—dark pine, woodsmoke, and raw masculine power—wrapped around me, sinking into my bones and making my head spin. My back met the wall. There was nowhere left to run.

He stopped just inches away, towering over me. Slowly, as if I were a frightened deer, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of black hair from my flushed cheek. The unexpected gentleness in that single touch nearly undid me.

“I don’t know what they gave us,” he murmured, those golden eyes burning into mine, “but I won’t take you like a beast unless you ask.”

A broken whimper slipped from my throat. My hands fisted in his shirt of their own accord, yanking him closer. “I… I can’t… it hurts so much…”

That was all the permission he needed.

Gerald’s control shattered. His mouth crashed down on mine in a bruising, devouring kiss. He tasted champagne. His tongue swept inside, claiming every inch of me as his powerful body pinned me against the wall. I moaned shamelessly into his mouth, my hips rocking against the hard muscle of his thigh as it shoved between my legs, giving me something solid to grind against.

“Fuck,” he growled against my lips, the vibration sending sparks down my spine. “You’re so wet already.”

His hands were everywhere—rough yet careful, as if he was fighting not to lose himself completely. He yanked the thin straps of my dress down my shoulders, baring my breasts to the cool air. My nipples tightened instantly under his heated gaze. With a hungry sound, he bent and drew one into his hot mouth, sucking hard while his tongue flicked mercilessly over the sensitive peak. His other hand kneaded my other breast, rolling the nipple between strong fingers until I cried out, my fingers tangling desperately in his thick dark hair.

He dropped to his knees without warning.

In one swift motion, he shoved my dress up around my waist and tore my soaked panties clean away. I barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on me—hot, relentless, and utterly devouring. His tongue plunged deep inside me, then swirled around my swollen clit with devastating precision. Two thick fingers pushed into my aching heat, curling and stroking that perfect spot while he sucked hard on my clit.

Pleasure tore through me like lightning. I came with a shattered scream, my thighs clamping around his head as wave after wave crashed over me. He didn’t stop. He licked me through every pulsing aftershock, growling hungrily as if he couldn’t get enough of my taste, his fingers still working me until I was whimpering and shaking.

When he finally rose, his mouth glistened with my release. His golden eyes were completely feral now.

“On the bed,” he ordered, voice hoarse with need.

I obeyed on shaky limbs, crawling onto the massive hotel bed. Gerald stripped with ruthless efficiency. His body was a weapon—broad-shouldered, heavily muscled, every inch covered in scars that only made him look more dangerously beautiful. His cock sprang free, thick and long and brutally hard, the flushed head already glistening with precum.

He climbed over me, caging me in with his powerful arms. For a heartbeat, he just looked at me, something almost reverent flickering beneath the raw lust in his gaze.

Then he thrust inside me in one powerful stroke.

I screamed at the intense stretch—pain and blinding pleasure twisting together as he filled me completely. He was huge, stretching my walls to their limit. My inner muscles fluttered wildly around him, trying to adjust to the overwhelming fullness.

“Easy, little wolf,” he groaned, forehead pressed to mine, his breath hot against my lips. “Breathe for me.”

He stayed buried deep, rolling his hips in slow, devastating circles until the burn melted into liquid fire. Then he began to move—hard, deep, and utterly possessive. Each thrust slammed into me, driving the air from my lungs. The bed slammed rhythmically against the wall. My nails raked down his back, drawing blood, and he snarled in pleasure, the sound vibrating through both of us.

He hooked one of my legs over his arm, spreading me wider, pounding into me at a new, devastating angle that made me see stars. Every stroke dragged against that sensitive spot inside me while his pelvis ground against my clit.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he rasped, teeth grazing my throat. “This is more than the drug.”

I could only moan helplessly as another orgasm built like a tidal wave inside me. My wolf howled, pushing against my skin, desperate to merge with his.

Gerald’s pace turned feral. His hand slipped between our sweat-slicked bodies, his thumb pressing tight, relentless circles on my swollen clit.

“Come for me again,” he commanded, voice rough.

I shattered completely.

My body convulsed around him, inner walls clamping down on his thick cock like a vice. Gerald roared, his hips stuttering. At the peak of my climax, he struck—his fangs sinking deep into the curve of my shoulder.

White-hot ecstasy exploded through every nerve. The claiming mark burned gold in the darkness, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. I felt something ancient and unbreakable snap into place between us as his cock pulsed deep inside me, flooding my core with jet after jet of hot seed. He kept thrusting through his release, grinding deep as if trying to engrave himself in me forever.

We collapsed together, panting, trembling, and locked in each other’s arms.

The last thing I remembered was the reverent brush of his lips over the fresh mark on my shoulder and a whispered word that sounded dangerously like mate.

---

Morning light stabbed through the curtains.

I woke up alone.

My body ached in the most delicious and terrible ways. Between my thighs I was sticky and sore, and the deep bite on my shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat.

I sat up slowly, wincing. On the nightstand sat a crisp cheque for one million dollars—blank except for the amount and his bold signature.

There was no note or an explanation. Nothing.

He thought I was just a staff. A convenient body to fuck and pay off like some cheap whore.

Something fragile inside my chest cracked wide open. Tears burned my eyes, but I forced them down. I had survived Raphael’s rejection. I would survive this too.

I dressed on shaky legs, pulling my hair over the fresh claiming mark to hide it. The bite was deep and unmistakably lycan, already healing with unnatural speed. Inside me, my wolf purred contentedly for the first time in years, completely at peace with what had happened.

I slipped out of the room like a ghost.

In the lobby, the receptionist looked up sharply. “Miss! The gentleman in the penthouse left strict orders—”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest.

I ran.

Out into the grey morning light, heart hammering, the weight of a king’s mark burning on my shoulder and a million dollars clutched in my trembling hand. I disappeared into the streets of Oakhaven before anyone could stop me.

But deep down, I already knew.

The Lycan King would come looking.

And when he found me… nothing would ever be the same again.

Gerald’s POV

I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, the city sprawled out beneath me like a glittering toy kingdom I no longer cared about. Dawn had broken hours ago, painting the sky in muted greys and golds, but the view brought me no peace. An emptiness gnawed at the center of my chest, a completely foreign feeling. For thirty-two years I had ruled the North with iron control, bending my inner lycan to my will until it was little more than a weapon I wielded at will. Now that same beast paced and snarled inside me, restless with a sense of loss so sharp it felt like someone had carved a piece of my soul out in the night.

Who the hell was she?

The question had circled in my mind since I walked away from that hotel bed and left her sleeping. I had told myself it was just the drug, just one night, just another warm body to burn the fire out of my system. But my wolf refused to accept that. He paced and snarled, demanding we go back, demanding we find her. The ache of her absence was sharp enough that I had to press a hand to my chest to steady myself.

The door opened behind me.

“My king,” Caius said, his voice carefully neutral. My head of security knew better than to show fear, but I could smell the tension rolling off him. “The woman from Room 14… she’s gone. And she left no traces.”

The glass of whiskey in my hand shattered. I hadn’t even realized I was squeezing it until the crystal exploded and amber liquid mixed with blood dripped down my fingers. The pain that shot through me felt distant and irrelevant.

“Find her,” I said, my voice deceptively calm. Inside, my wolf was roaring. “I don’t care what it takes. Every camera, every contact, every damn fingerprint in that room. I want her name, her pack, her scent trail. Everything.”

Caius nodded once and left without another word.

Alone again, I stalked into the marble bathroom, intending to wash the blood and whiskey from my hands. Something in my reflection stopped me cold. There, just below my jaw on the side of my neck, was a faint but unmistakable mark—crescent-shaped bruises from small, fierce teeth. She’d bitten me in the height of passion, hard enough to leave evidence even on my skin.

A low, surprised chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. Amused. Of all the reactions I expected—rage, confusion, hunger—this faint spark of amusement caught me off guard. The little wolf had marked me. Me, the Lycan King. Most women trembled at the thought of even touching me, yet she’d sunk her teeth in like she had every right.

“Bold little thing,” I muttered, tracing the mark with my fingertips. It tingled faintly, warm under my touch. My wolf preened, the restless ache easing for a split second. Mate, he whispered in the back of my mind. I shoved the thought down hard. Fated bonds didn’t form after one drug-fueled night with a woman whose face I could barely piece together in the haze of memory. This was impossible and dangerous to even think about.

But the emptiness remained.

---

Two days later, back in the cold stone walls of my northern citadel, the obsession had only grown. I paced the war room like a caged animal while reports piled up on the massive oak table. My spies had turned the city upside down. Nothing. She had vanished like smoke. The only traces left were her fingerprints lifted from a champagne glass, the lingering scent on the hotel sheets that still drove my wolf insane every time I caught a whiff, and a maid’s hesitant report: the woman had carried the faint aura of a suppressed wolf and had been wearing old, fine pack silk beneath that cheap dress.

A werewolf. Hiding in plain sight, right under my nose.

I slammed my fist on the table, cracking the wood. “Bring Helen Ashmoor to me. Now.”

Helen arrived pale and trembling, her usual calculated confidence nowhere to be found. She dropped into a deep curtsy, but I could smell the fear-sweat on her skin.

“You arranged the aphrodisiac that night,” I said softly, dangerously. My golden eyes pinned her in place. “Hoping to bind me to you. To elevate your status.”

She broke quickly under the weight of my gaze, confessing everything in a rush of tears and excuses. She had planned it all—drugging the drinks, ensuring I ended up in that room with a “suitable” woman who turned out to be far more than she bargained for. I didn’t know this for sure before now, it was only a guess that she has just confirmed.

What Helen wanted was power, and me all to herself. Hot rage settled over me.

“You are stripped of all titles and privileges,” I declared, voice echoing through the hall. “Banish her to the borderlands. She lives, but she will never again set foot in civilized territory.”

Helen’s eyes flashed with pure hatred as guards dragged her away, but I felt nothing. My thoughts were already elsewhere—on her.

Later that evening, one of my senior spies burst into my chambers with a data pad. “We have something, my king.”

Grainy security footage from the hotel lobby filled the screen. And there she was.

Even in the low-quality image, she was stunning—dark hair tousled, cheeks still flushed from our night, eyes wide with something between panic and determination as she fled into the grey morning. My wolf surged forward so violently I had to grip the edge of the desk to stay upright.

Mine.

I studied every pixel of her face, memorizing the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her lips pressed together in resolve. Something deep inside me clicked into place, sharper and more determined than ever before. This wasn’t just lust or the aftermath of a drug. This was more.

“Find her,” I ordered quietly, my voice carrying the weight of absolute command. “Comb every city, every pack, every backwater town if you have to. But no one touches her. No one frightens her. Bring me her location and nothing more. She is to be treated with the utmost care.

He bowed and vanished to carry out my will.

---

Far away, in a cramped bathroom in another city, Catherine stood before a foggy mirror, adjusting the cheap wig and colored contacts that formed her meager disguise. She was trying—desperately—to forget that night. To forget him. The way his body had felt moving over hers, the way his voice had rasped “mine” against her skin, the impossible pleasure that still haunted her dreams.

She pulled her shirt aside to check the bite mark, muttering under her breath. “Just fade already, you stupid—”

The mark on her shoulder suddenly flared to life, glowing with a soft, golden light that illuminated the entire dingy bathroom like a fucking lantern.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” she hissed, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I’m trying to move on, pretend the Lycan King didn’t ruin me for any other man, and now you decide to light up like a goddamn beacon? Really? Thanks for the subtlety, universe. Could you make it any more obvious that I’m carrying around a walking advertisement for ‘Property of Gerald Draven’?”

She slapped a hand over the glowing mark, but the light pulsed warmly against her palm, mocking her. Her wolf inside purred in contentment.

Catherine groaned, leaning her forehead against the cool mirror. “This is going to end so badly.”

But even as she said it, a traitorous part of her wondered how long it would be before the King of the North came for what he had already claimed.