Rath.
In the flickering CCTV footage, a figure struts through the corridor of Theo's mansion, heading straight for his room like he owns the place—well, maybe because he thinks he does. Cloaked in black armor, the kind you'd expect to see on someone auditioning for a role in a medieval villain's costume drama, he's a serious contender for "Most Likely to Be Cast as a Dark Lord" in a low-budget fantasy series.
The dim light bounces off his armor like it's trying to escape. His hood, black as the void itself, shrouds his face so thoroughly that the only thing you can make out is a scowl that looks like it's been rehearsed in front of a mirror for years. Oh, and the scythe—because of course, he's got one. A massive one with a blade so sharp it could probably slice through a budget for a small country.
As he walks, the air around him practically shrieks in protest. Ash swirls like a bad magic trick, and smoke follows him like he's been hanging out with a campfire that's a little too enthusiastic. Each step he takes is so purposeful that you half expect him to stop and give a monologue about the doom he's about to bring upon the mansion. His very presence is like a giant "do not disturb" sign—but with d.eath, and maybe a little bit of drama for flair.
" What do you think?" Billie asked, her voice barely audible, like she was trying not to alert the dark lord to her presence. Can't blame her, honestly.
" This doesn't look like anyone I know," I said, squinting at the screen as if expecting the man to break into a tap dance or something just to make things interesting. "He looks like he knew Theo, though. The idiot had enemies, but I didn't hear about anyone who was planning a costume party like this. It's pretty obvious he came for one person, though—didn't even stop by her room. She didn't have a clue anyone was in the house. Total ninja vibes."
The footage didn't help much either. No sign of a man entering the mansion, and the motion detectors were as useless as a screen door on a submarine. Theo was basically guarding his mansion with an army of gammas—paranoid much? They would've smelled this guy from a mile away. So how in the world did he get in?
No open windows, no forced exits. He just walked in like a ghost—except, you know, with a scythe.
Something was definitely off. I leaned back in my chair, trying to figure it out, but I wasn't any closer to cracking the case.
"Billie," I said, rubbing my temples, "you have to protect Dahlia. No one touches her. And if they do? I want you to make them wish they'd never been born. Got it?"
"Yes, master," Billie responded, still sounding like someone who'd prefer to be anywhere but here.
Don't get me wrong, I still think my wife's human tra.sh, but I can't have her dying on my watch. Plus, there's the small matter of Victoria's pack putting a price on Dahlia's head. You know, just another Tuesday in my life.
The more I stared at the footage, the more I had this weird sense that I knew that guy's body. It was like déjà vu—except with more ominous armor and less "I'm home for dinner." Something was definitely weird about this whole thing, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen it all before.
I hit the gym, hoping the weights could distract me from the bizarre thoughts cluttering my mind. Last night, I had this weird dream—like, really weird. There was some writing on a piece of cloth that looked like it was from a foreign language, and despite being multilingual, I couldn't make sense of it. Maybe I'll ask Billie to scan my brain and see if she can crack the code. She's good at that whole "mind reading" thing, after all.
As I was lifting weights, Dahlia strolled in wearing a pair of Amazon tights and a sports br@. Those grey tights hugged that thick, juicy bubble b00ty of hers like they were custom-made for it. Seriously, her body is tempting—an hourglass figure that should be ille.gal in some states.
She walked past me, and her scent hit me like a freight train. Damn, why does she always have to smell so good? It mes.ses with my head in ways I shouldn't be thinking about.
"Damn it, Billie!" I muttered under my breath. I told her to change up Dahlia's wardrobe, not turn it into a spi.cy fashion show.
Dahlia stopped in front of the treadmill, swiping the controls like it was an old-school vending machine that refused to take her dollar. I walked over to her, trying to figure out the damn thing, and turned it on.
"Walk or run?" I asked.
She just shook her head. Classic Dahlia. Which one is it?
"Run it is," I said, hitting the "run" button without checking the settings. Big mistake. The treadmill went into overdrive, and Dahlia was about to become a human rocket. Thankfully, I was quick on my feet and caught her just before she became a projectile.
Right. I forgot she's human. Running at that speed would've turned her into a human pancake. Her little body pressed up against mine. She looked up at me, blinking like I was some sort of superhero who saved her from an impending treadmill-related dis.aster.
Her cuteness is so damn s3xy, I could lose my mind.
I let go of her and went back to lifting weights like nothing happened. Dahlia laid a pink mat on the floor and bent over, arching that perfect a$$ in a way that made my brain short-circuit. I grabbed an empty water bottle and tossed it at her.
"Stop getting in my head," I said, my voice tight.
She responded by raising both middle fingers at me and sitting up, going right back to those ridiculous exercises that looked like they were designed to drive me crazy. Perfect timing, considering it's my heat week—the week where I'm literally a walking, talking furnace of lu.st. Not ideal for focus, to say the least.
Then, she bent over again—stomach on the mat, a$$ in the air. I could feel my wolf stirring. My mind went blank, my body reacting before I even knew what was happening. My throat went dry. I was thirsty, but not for water.
Next thing I knew, I had both her hands pinned down and was staring into her eyes, probably looking like a wild animal. She looked back at me, smirking like she knew exactly what was happening.
"You've done something," I gritted out, barely able to control myself. "What is it? Why am I so damn turned on by you?"
She gave me the "triangle method" stare—left eye, lips, right eye. It was like she was playing a game I wasn't prepared for.
"Stop doing that," I growled. "I want you so bad right now, but you're making it worse. You've definitely done something different today, haven't you?"
She shook her head, biting her lower lip like she was enjoying this. I shut my eyes for a second, trying to regain control. There was something fishy going on here. She was after something.
"Human," I said, my voice low. "What do you want?"
Her gaze shifted to her tablet next to her. I released her hands, and she swiped on the screen, showing me the tablet.
"Can I go shopping?" she asked, looking up at me with those innocent eyes that were anything but.
She came all the way here to sed.uce me—me—just so she could go shopping?
"You caused me a hell of a lot of trouble meddling in another pack's affairs," I said, shaking my head. "Now they want your he.ad on a platter, and all you can think about is shopping? You've got enough clothes and shoes to open your own store."
She's cra.zy. But, I'll admit, she knows how to sed.uce. I'll give her that.
"Write down what you need, and Billie will get it for you. This discussion is over." I stood up, my voice as firm as I could make it, despite everything inside me telling me to do the exact opposite.
Her eyes flickered to the bul.ge in my sweatpants, but rather than backing away in shock, she just looked... intrigued. Not that I expected her to be scared. She's seen it before. Heck, it's been inside her twice. There's no mystery there.
I couldn't help but wonder where she learned all this sed.uction stuff. She spent nearly her whole life in some s.trict cu.lt and then lived in a church. Doubt they taught her the art of tem.pting men. Unless, of course, she's been secretly reading those books in the library where she spends most of her time.
I extended my hand, half-expecting her to pull some more of her tricks, and she hesitated just long enough for me to notice. But then she grabbed my hand and stood up. In one swift motion, I pulled her close, our li.ps meeting in a k!ss that wasn't exactly sweet. It was hot!
"Don't ever try that again," I warned, my tone low and commanding.
She froze, her entire body betraying her with the rapid flutter of her heart, the flush spreading across her skin. Her eyes, wide with something between fear and desire, were locked onto mine. I could see the con.flict in them.
I let go and turned, walking out of the gym, leaving her breathless, craving more, but that's not my problem— for now.