One moment, I'm hurrying through the door when I'm stopped short by a whimpering sound, both achingly familiar and unlike anything I've heard before.
In the next moment, the walls of my office are painted red with blood.
I let Ander's body collapse to the floor with a dull thud. My hands shake, still gripping the letter opener I'd plunged into his throat. Blood pools around his head like a macabre halo, but I barely register it when I hear that sound again.
A pained, desperate whimper.
Cillian.
He's curled against my desk, uniform torn open, eyes wide and unfocused. The scent hits me like a physical blow — distressed Omega pheromones cutting through the metallic tang of blood. My vision narrows, pulse hammering in my ears as something primal takes over.
"Logan," Cillian whispers, voice cracking. "He was going to...”
"I know." My voice sounds foreign to my own ears, deeper and rougher than I've ever heard it.
The rut crashes over me without warning. My skin feels too tight, blood rushing south as my body responds to the Omega in distress. My Omega. Because Cillian belongs to me. I lead this pack. Everyone in it belongs to me. The thought pierces through everything else. Mine.
I don't remember crossing the room, but suddenly I'm gathering Cillian into my arms, cradling him against my chest. His body trembles, and I pull him closer, growling low in my throat when he buries his face against my neck.
"Alpha," he breathes against my skin, and the word unravels something inside me.
Cillian's arms wrap around my shoulders, fingers digging into my back as he lifts his face to mine. Our eyes lock for one suspended moment before he presses his lips to mine.
The kiss tastes like copper and salt—blood and tears—but underneath, something sweeter. Longing. Need. A decade of silent wanting finally given voice. I deepen the kiss, one hand cupping the back of his head while the other pulls him firmly into my lap.
"Should have been you," I murmur against his mouth. "Always you."
Cillian makes a broken sound, somewhere between a sob and a moan. His hips rock against mine, seeking friction, and I growl in response. My hands fumble with my belt, buttons, anythingin the way of skin meeting skin. Cillian helps, fingers more dexterous than mine despite their trembling.
"Please," he gasps as I pull him back into my lap, his legs straddling my thighs. "Need you, Logan. Need my Alpha."
The words send a fresh surge of possessiveness through me. I capture his mouth again, tasting him deeper as my hands grip his hips. The scent of slick and arousal mingles with the blood in the air, and I should be horrified at myself for wanting this here, now, but I can't stop. Won't stop.
Cillian arches against me, head thrown back as I trail bites down his throat. His pulse races beneath my lips, and I lick over the spot where my mark will go. Where it should have been all along.
"Mine," I growl, pulling him down as I thrust up. "Always been mine."
"Yours," Cillian agrees, voice breaking as our bodies join. His fingers dig into my shoulders, eyes locked on mine. "Always yours."
The world narrows to this—to Cillian in my arms, around me, the way he gasps my name like a prayer. Not my title. Not 'Prince.' Just Logan. I've never been just Logan to anyone but him.
We move together, frantic and desperate, chasing something we've denied ourselves for too long. I hold him tighter, closer, as if I could fuse us together permanently. The bond between us strengthens with each thrust, each shared breath.
"Never letting you go," I promise against his skin. "Never again."
Cillian's response is wordless, a keening sound that vibrates through both our bodies as he comes apart in my arms. I follow him over the edge, teeth finding purchase on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, claiming what should have always been mine.
He scrambles higher up on my body, placing an answering bite on the closest skin he can reach on my left shoulder blade.
The pain is brief, but the realization that follows it is devastating.
As the haze of rut begins to clear, reality crashes back. Ander's body lies cooling on my office floor. Blood stains my hands, my clothes, probably Cillian's skin. I've killed my brother. I've claimed my guard commander.
Fear and regret are a tidal wave, Cillian's emotions and my own intertwined until it's impossible to tell one from the other.
I've doomed us both.
ONE YEAR AGO
