I drink in the sight of him—the way his dark hair falls across his forehead, the sharp line of his jaw, the broad shoulders that fill out his black shirt with devastating effect. My heart pounds erratically, desire and defiance warring within me as I finally acknowledge what I've been fighting since our wedding night. My Omega biology hums with awareness, producing that telltale slick despite my best efforts to remain unmoved.
"What truth would you have from me, Omega?" he asks, his voice deceptively casual, though I sense the tension in his shoulders.
I square my shoulders, meeting his dark gaze directly. "Who is Julia?"
His entire body goes rigid, every shadow in the room freezing mid-movement. Through our bond, I'm hit with a wave of raw emotion—anger, guilt, and such profound grief that it makes my light magic waver and dim. The scent of it fills the room—rain and ashes, winter and decay. For once, he's not hiding his feelings from me, and the depth of his pain is staggering. My Omega whimpers involuntarily, the biological urge to comfort him nearly overwhelming my conscious will.
"Ask something else," he says, his voice rough with barely contained emotion.
"That's the truth I want." I take a step closer, drawn by his vulnerability despite myself. "You said her name when…" I can't finish the sentence, can't voice the humiliation of being called another woman's name while on the verge of being knotted.
"No." The word falls between us like a tombstone, final and immutable. "That is one truth you will never know."
I expected resistance, but the absolute finality in his tone catches me off guard. I sense him desperately trying to slam walls around that memory, but traces of his raw emotion still leak through. Whoever Julia was, she meant everything to him. The thought makes my own Omega snarl with irrational jealousy.
"You promised one truth of my choosing," I say, moving closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "Are your promises so easily broken?"
"There are some truths that remain mine alone," he replies, his voice dangerously soft, dropping into that register that makes my knees weak. Shadows begin to stir around him again. "Choose another question or forfeit your claim."
A sudden, reckless idea occurs to me. "Very well," I say, my voice dropping to match his threatening tone. "If that's how you want to play this game..." I turn as if to leave, then pause with my hand on the ornate door handle. "But know this—you will never touch me again. Not until you honor our agreement. No more almost-matings, no more interrupted knots, no bite. Nothing. Not even when my heat breaks."
The last words are reckless, suicidal even. Ivy's warnings echo in my head—heat fever, permanent damage, death. But I refuse to beg him for help. Refuse to admit I need him. His laugh is dark and rich, sending shivers down my spine and fresh slick between my thighs.
"Is that so? You'll suffer through a heat—your first real heat in nine years—alone? Without an Alpha to knot you, to ease the fever, to keep you from permanent damage?" He moves closer, predatory. "We both know that's a lie. Your pride isn't worth dying for, Omega."
"I'll manage," I snap, even as my body screams that he's right. "I don't need you."
He approaches with coiled elegance, his shadows dancing around him with something like intention. "You seem to be operating under the delusion that you have a choice in the matter."
I hold my ground despite the heat building low in my belly. I won't give in so easily this time. "I always have a choice."
"Do you?" He stops mere inches from me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. He towers over me, and I can't help but admire his stunning features. He's really a beautiful man, and I hate admitting it. "Your mind might reject me, Omega, but your body..." His hand rises to hover near my cheek, not quite touching. "Your body tells a different story. I can smell your slick from here."
His nostrils flare as he inhales deeper, and his expression shifts—pupils dilating, fangs descending further. "And something else. You’re going into heat right now, which means you will need me. You're very close, aren't you?"
My face burns with humiliation and fury. Of course he can smell it. Alphas always know. "That's none of your concern."
"None of my concern?" His laugh is dark and incredulous. "You're my mate. My Omega. Your heat is absolutely my concern."
"You're mistaken," I manage, though my voice betrays me with a slight tremor. "And even if I were—which I'm not admitting—I don't need your help."
His smile widens, feral and knowing, his fangs just barely visible. "Am I?" Without warning, his shadows flick out, brushing across my collarbone with gossamer lightness. I can't suppress the shiver that runs through me. "Your pulse says otherwise. Your scent says otherwise."
"This proves nothing," I insist, fighting the traitorous response of my own body.
"No?" He circles me slowly, shadows trailing in his wake. "Then you won't mind if I demonstrate exactly how much power I have over you."
Before I can react, shadows wrap around my wrists, yanking my arms above my head and holding me immobile. I struggle against the restraints, light magic flaring at my fingertips, but the shadows simply absorb it, growing stronger with each pulse of power.
"Let me go," I demand, even as fresh slick coats my thighs.
"Not yet," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "Not until you admit the truth that burns between us."
"What truth?" I hiss, twisting against the shadowy bonds.
His hand finally makes contact, cupping my cheek with unexpected gentleness. "That you want me as much as I want you. That this hatred between us has become something else entirely." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "And that you need me. Your heat is coming, Seraphina. You can feel it building, can't you? The fever under your skin. The ache that won't go away. You need your Alpha, whether you want to admit it or not."
"I don't need anyone," I lie, but my voice shakes.
