EMBER'S POV

My brain stutters.

"Fake girlfriend?" I repeat. "As in... pretend we're dating?"

Knox smiles like a wolf who's just cornered a rabbit. "You catch on fast, Ember."

The car slides through the icy city, neon and halogen smearing the windows. I half expect him to take it back, say it's a joke, but King Knox is not a man who jokes.

I stare at his profile-clean, sharp, intimidating as hell-and the last few hours tumble through my head like dice in a rigged game.

I crossed a line with this man. Lines don't matter to him. He just redraws them to suit himself.

"I don't get it," I say, and my voice sounds thin, even to me. "Why me? You could have anyone-"

He cuts a look my way, ice-blue and amused.

"That's exactly why it'll work. No one expects me to pick the omega wife of my own subordinate, especially not after tonight's little airport meltdown."

He's right. It's the kind of power move that'd keep every rumor mill spinning for months.

"But you don't even know me," I protest.

"I know enough." His eyes rake over me deliberately. "I know you're smart enough to recognize an opportunity when you see one. Beautiful enough to make every alpha in that room jealous when I walk in with you on my arm." He leans closer. "And I know I want to fuck you again. Everything else is just details."

I cross my arms, suddenly aware of how tight my sweater is. My cheeks burn.

"It's only for a week," Knox says. "One week of holding hands at events and letting everyone believe you're my latest obsession. In exchange, you get protection, money, and I'll make sure Gale never bothers you again. If you want the divorce, I'll sign the paperwork myself. No strings."

A short laugh escapes me. "So your solution to my cheating husband problem is to become a kept woman for a week. That's genuinely your best idea?"

He shrugs, though his gaze stays intense.

"The Christmas Summit starts tomorrow. You want to face Gale and his lawyers alone? Or do you want to walk into that resort on my arm and make him shit himself in front of every pack alpha on the continent?"

I go silent. The car's heater is blasting, but my hands are cold.

"What's the catch?" I ask because there's always a catch.

Knox leans in, voice dropping. "You do what I say. No arguments. That includes both public and private. If you're not up for the full girlfriend experience, find another sugar daddy, princess."

His eyes drop to my mouth, linger there a half-second too long.

I can't breathe.

He means sex.

Of course he does.

He wants me as a prop, a property, and a fuck toy all rolled into one neat little package. The thought should make me sick. Instead, it sends a pulse of heat straight through my body, turning my bones to jelly.

Sapphire is purring inside me, little traitor.

I open my mouth to argue, but the car is already slowing, pulling up a long drive lined with glittering evergreens. At the end of the lane, a building rises out of the darkness-gargantuan, all glass and intimidating angles, every window ablaze with light.

Mystic Fire Winter Resort.

A valet sprints to open the car door, and the cold night air slaps my face, shocking me into the present. Knox is out first, tossing keys to the valet and dropping a bill that looks suspiciously like a hundred.

He circles the car to my side and offers a hand. I ignore it, because if I touch him, I might forget how to walk.

He doesn't seem to mind. His hand settles on the small of my back, pushing me forward. The entryway is a study in opulence-high glass ceilings, an enormous stone fireplace, entire trees inside the lobby hung with silver ornaments and glass moons.

There's a hush, the way there always is before a bloodbath.

The desk clerk looks up and goes pale, like she's seeing a ghost. Behind her, two men in tailored suits glance over and immediately drop their voices. I'm not an idiot. Every eye in the place is on Lycan King Knox Volkov. And, by extension, on me.

We cross the lobby, past more security than an airport, and into a private elevator. The doors slide shut with a hiss. Knox hits the button for the top floor and lets out a slow exhale.

"Relax," he says, glancing sidelong at me.

"I am relaxed," I lie, voice strangled.

His eyes sweep down my body and linger on my legs, and then he leans in, nose almost brushing my ear.

"You're still wet, Ember. You really thought I wouldn't notice?"

My face goes thermonuclear.

He chuckles. "We'll have to do something about that when we get to the suite."

The doors open onto a private corridor carpeted in black. At the end, double doors. Knox pushes them open without ceremony.

The penthouse is a cathedral of luxury-windows floor to ceiling, a view of the snow-drowned valley, a modern fireplace already burning, and a bar stocked with more liquor than I could drink in a decade.

Every surface gleams, nothing out of place. It's the kind of setting where a normal person would feel instantly smaller.

He motions for me to sit. My knees are shaking, so I do.

I don't belong here. Not just in this room, but in this world. I'm wearing a wrinkled skirt, my thighs still sticky, and I haven't brushed my hair since the plane. Even my shoes look pathetic on the white marble.

Knox fixes two drinks-whiskey, neat, no questions. He hands me a glass and perches on the arm of a leather chair across from me, suit jacket unbuttoned, blue eyes never leaving my face.

I'm actually in a hotel room alone with the fucking Lycan King. My mind is still baffled.

He waits until I've taken two desperate sips before speaking.

"Here's how this works," he says, voice suddenly businesslike. "We attend every event together for the next seven days. You do as I say in public and in private. You'll act like my girlfriend-no less, but also no more. When it's over, you get a check, and if you want a permanent job, you'll have it. If not, we part ways. I don't care if you fuck off to Bali or start a cult."

I take another gulp of whiskey. It burns, in a good way.

"Why?" I say, because none of this adds up. "Why bother?"

Knox studies me. "You know who Rayana is?"

"Of course," I remember her from the pack newsletters. Supermodel, business mogul, and former girlfriend of the Lycan King. Most gorgeous woman alive, according to Cosmo and every shifter gossip site. "She's your ex."

"'Ex' is a generous term," Knox says. "She's an obsession that refuses to die. She's back in Alaska, claiming she has six months to live and wants 'one last Christmas together.' She's told every elder in the northern territories that we're reuniting, she's milked the sob story for all it's worth, and if I don't play ball, she'll make it a public spectacle."

"That sounds... dramatic."

"That sounds like blackmail," Knox corrects, deadpan. "So, I need a girlfriend. A real one. At least in the eyes of the media and the packs. Someone with just enough public disgrace to be interesting, and just enough dignity to make Rayana look like an idiot."

It takes me a second to realize he's talking about me.

"But you could have any woman you want," I say, and it comes out so pathetic I want to bite my tongue off.

He takes a long swallow of whiskey, then sets the glass down. "That's the point. I want one no one expects. I want to humiliate Gale, I want to fuck Rayana off my doorstep, and I want a woman who won't fall apart if I make her scream in a bathroom."

I stare at him.

"Why not just pay a professional escort?" I blurt.

Knox grins viciously. "I did, once. She tried to blackmail me for an extra fifty grand. I had her deported."

I believe him.

I weigh my options.

My alternatives are:

(a) go back to a hotel and wait for Gale to ruin my life, or (b) play trophy girlfriend to the Lycan King and get a severance check big enough to make all my problems disappear.

"Say I agree," I hedge, setting my glass down. "What do you get out of this?"

Knox leans forward, elbows on knees. "What do you think I get out of this, Ember?"

My mouth goes dry. "Sex."

He doesn't deny it. "And you'll enjoy it."

That cockiness should be a turnoff, but instead it makes me want to see how far he'll go.

I close my eyes, just for a second. Try to imagine the next week. The gossip, the events, the way the other omegas will stare at me with envy or disgust or both.

The way Gale will absolutely lose his mind. The way I'll wake up every morning in the arms of a man who knows how to make me come with a single look.

It's not a fantasy I ever had, but now that I see it, I want it.

"Okay," I say. "But I have conditions."

He raises an eyebrow. "Let's hear them."

"One: You don't get to treat me like an idiot. If I have to act like your girlfriend, I get to know what's going on. No secrets that'll make me look like a fool."

"Deal."

"Two: If this ends in disaster, and I mean real disaster, you help me disappear. No one should have to go back to Gale or face pack exile because their boss wanted to win a pissing contest with his ex."

Knox's lips curve. "You'd like Australia. Plenty of wild animals. I'll have you on a flight in under an hour if it comes to that."

He's probably not joking.

"And three..." My face burns so hot it could melt the whiskey glass. "You have to promise to make me come every time. I need to see stars. No exceptions. Because Gale never did, and I refuse to go back to being a sad, unsatisfied omega."

The silence that follows is so heavy I could drown in it.

Then Knox stands, crossing the space in three steps. He's right in front of me, looming, heat and energy radiating off him like a wildfire. He takes my chin between his fingers, tilts my head back until I'm forced to meet his eyes.

"That won't be a problem, darling," he murmurs. "In fact, starting from tonight, you'll be lucky if you ever walk straight again."

EMBER’S POV

For one hot, hanging second I think he’s going to kiss me right there. But instead, Knox extends his hand. Palm up, waiting.

I take it.

The second our skin touches, electricity shoots up my arm. Not static—something hotter, deeper, like someone lit a fuse inside my bones.

I try to pull back but his grip tightens, and with one brutal yank he hauls me off the couch and straight into his lap.

I crash against his chest, legs tangling awkwardly over the arm of the chair. Before I can even gasp, his mouth crashes onto mine.

This isn’t the desperate fumbling from the bathroom. This is possession. He kisses me like he’s been starving for it all night, like he wants to crawl inside me and claim every breath I take.

His tongue forces past my lips and I taste whiskey and dominance and something wild that’s purely him.

His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat, and his other hand is already sliding up my thigh, under my skirt.

His palm burns against my bare skin, rough and demanding, and when his fingers graze the inside of my thigh, so close to where I’m already soaking wet, I actually whimper.

I clutch his shirt because if I don’t hold onto something, I’m going to fly apart. I can feel him against me—hard, thick, barely restrained under the expensive fabric of his pants.

He breaks the kiss but stays close enough that his breath ghosts over my swollen lips.

“Now that we have an agreement,” he growls, voice pure gravel and sin, “I’m going to show you exactly what you signed up for.”

“Right now?” The words come out breathless and needy, which should embarrass me but doesn’t.

His fingers dig into my thigh possessively. “Unless you’d prefer to wait until morning.”

“You’re the one making the rules,” I manage.

“That’s right.” His hand slides higher, fingertips barely an inch from where I’m throbbing for him. “And rule number one is that when you’re with me, you don’t hesitate. Not in public. Not in private. Not fucking ever.”

He shifts, pinning me tighter against him with one arm, until my entire world narrows to him—his scent, his heat, his voice in my ear making promises that should terrify me.

“In public, you smile. You hold my hand. You wear what I tell you to wear, you go where I tell you to go. You make every single person in that room wish they were me, or they were you. Understood?”

I nod because words are impossible.

“In private,” Knox continues, his voice dropping to something dark and filthy, “you get on your knees, you spread your legs, and you take my cock however I want to give it to you. For the next week, you’re mine to use. If you want to back out, now’s your last chance.”

I should back out. Any sane woman would.

Instead, I find my voice. “And if I don’t follow your rules?”

His smile is pure wickedness. “Then I’ll punish you until you beg me to let you obey.”

Heat floods between my legs so fast I’m dizzy with it.

I don’t know what possesses me—maybe it’s the whiskey, maybe it’s the fact that I’m tired of being afraid—but I push back.

“What if I’m terrible at the girlfriend stuff? What if I embarrass you?”

Knox leans in until his nose brushes mine. “I don’t give a fuck if you stumble through every public appearance. I care that when I tell you to do something, you do it. Can you do that, Ember?”

No one’s ever asked me like this before. Like my obedience is something valuable, something worth demanding. Gale only ever wanted me quiet and invisible. Knox wants me present and willing.

“Yes,” I breathe. “I’ll do what you want.”

“Show me.”

He releases my hair and guides me off his lap with hands that are surprisingly gentle despite the command in his voice. My knees hit the plush carpet and I look up at him from between his spread thighs.

Knox stares down at me like I’m a feast he’s about to devour. His jaw is set, eyes golden, and the raw hunger on his face makes me clench with anticipation.

“Unbuckle my belt.”

My hands shake but I reach for him anyway, working the leather free and then dragging down his zipper. I’ve never done this before—Gale never wanted my mouth anywhere near him—and suddenly I’m acutely aware of how inexperienced I am.

When I free Knox’s cock, I freeze.

He’s massive. Thick and long and already leaking at the tip, and the logical part of my brain wonders how the hell this fit inside me earlier because looking at it now feels impossible.

Knox catches my hesitation immediately.

“Back out now and I’ll never let you forget it.” But there’s something in his tone.

I square my shoulders and meet his burning gaze.

“I made a deal. I’m not backing out.”

“Good fucking girl.”

The praise hits me like a drug.

I wrap my hand around him and Goddess, he’s hot and heavy in my palm, already pulsing with need. I lean forward, take the head into my mouth, and immediately realize I have no idea what I’m doing.

I lick experimentally, then suck, and it feels clumsy and awkward. Knox groans anyway, a sound that goes straight to my core.

“Relax your jaw,” he instructs, his hand settling on my head, fingers threading through my hair. “Don’t think. Just feel. Breathe through your nose.”

I try, but I’m not prepared for how thick he is. My teeth graze him accidentally and I flinch, mortified, but Knox just grunts and chuckles, then guides my head lower.

“Use your tongue on the ridge,” he commands, voice rough with restraint. “Exactly like that. Fuck.”

I swirl my tongue around the sensitive head and he hisses, hips jerking slightly. Power surges through me—I’m making the Lycan King lose control.

He starts moving my head, slow and controlled at first, letting me adjust to the stretch and weight of him. My jaw aches almost immediately but every time I gag or whimper, Knox’s grip tightens and he murmurs “Good girl” like it’s a benediction.

I want more of that praise. Want to earn it.

I bob my head faster, hollowing my cheeks, and Knox makes a sound that’s purely animalistic. His control is fracturing and I can feel it.

“That’s it,” he growls. “You look so fucking perfect with my cock stretching your pretty mouth.”

I moan around him, the vibration making him curse viciously.

Then he starts to thrust, holding my head steady while he fucks into my mouth with increasing urgency. It gets messy fast—spit and pre-cum dripping down my chin, tears streaming from the effort—but I don’t stop.

I’m addicted to the sounds he’s making, the way his thighs tense under my hands, the barely leashed power in every movement.

When I look up at him through wet lashes, his head is thrown back, jaw clenched, looking like some pagan Goddess in the throes of worship.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to come down your throat,” he warns, voice strained and desperate. “Is that what you want? Want me to fill that smart mouth of yours?”

I nod frantically, unable to speak.

“Fuck,” he snarls, and then he’s driving deeper, hitting the back of my throat. His whole body goes rigid, muscles locked, and with a guttural groan he empties himself into my mouth.

It’s too much. I choke, coughing, trying to swallow it all but some spills out anyway. Messy and raw and so intensely intimate it makes my pussy clench with need.

Knox releases my hair and immediately leans down, his thumb brushing across my swollen, spit-slick lips.

“Not bad for a virgin mouth,” he says, and he sounds genuinely impressed.

“Seriously?” My voice is completely wrecked.

He laughs, deep and satisfied. “You’re a natural. Next time, try not to use teeth.”

Heat floods my face but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

He pulls me up off the floor, steadying me when my legs wobble.

“Take off your clothes. All of them.”

The command makes my stomach flip. Years of Gale’s criticism flood back—too soft, too curvy, not toned enough—and I hesitate.

“Is that really necessary?”

Knox’s eyes flash dangerously. “Absolutely. I want to see what’s mine.”

Mine. That word shouldn’t affect me this much.

I start with my sweater, peeling it over my head with trembling hands. My bra is plain cotton, nothing sexy, and I suddenly wish I’d worn something better.

Knox doesn’t seem to care. His gaze is locked on me, hungry and possessive, as I fumble with my skirt and let it drop.

I stand there in just my bra, bare from the waist down except for the dried cum still on my inner thighs. My whole body feels exposed and vulnerable.

“Bra too.”

I reach back with shaking hands, unhook it, and let it fall.

My breasts are full and heavy, the kind men stare at but Gale always criticized as “too much.” I start to cover them instinctively.

“Don’t.” Knox’s voice is a low growl. “Don’t you fucking dare hide from me.”

He reaches out and pulls my hands away, pinning them at my sides while his eyes devour every inch of exposed skin. The silence stretches. He just stares, drinking me in, and I’m dying from the scrutiny.

Then he says, voice rough as gravel, “You’re fucking perfect. Exactly what I want. Exactly what I’m going to ruin.”

The words shouldn’t make me wet but they do.

He tugs me forward, hands burning hot on my hips, and kisses me again. This time it’s slower but no less consuming—like he’s memorizing the taste of me, savoring every second.

When we break apart, I’m panting, lightheaded, desperate for more.

He strokes my hair back from my flushed face. “You’re not going to regret this, Ember. I promise you that.”

I believe him.

For the first time in years, I feel desired. Wanted. Beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with being perfect and everything to do with being claimed.

“I want more,” I hear myself say, voice breathy and desperate.

Knox’s smile is wicked. “Oh, darling. I’m just getting started.”

He pulls me into his lap again, all bare skin and scorching heat, his hands already moving between my thighs.

This time, I know exactly what I’m getting into.

And I can’t fucking wait.