But it did, and I hated myself for it.
"My suppressants—"
"Don't work on soul bonds."
I stared at him. “What?”
He reached out and brushed a braid from my face. "Your suppressants are exactly as prescribed, Willow. They've been working perfectly for many years. They would have continued working perfectly for many more."
His thumb traced my cheekbone. "But they can't suppress what we are to each other."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm a Prime Alpha. My biology doesn't operate within normal parameters. And you—" His eyes roamed my face. "You're mysoul-bondedmate. The one my body has been waiting for since I presented. Suppressants can't override that kind of connection. Nothing can."
Soul-bonded.
The word hit me hard, and my body responded before my mind could process. A fresh wave of lusty heat rolled through me, more intense than anything I'd felt before.
“Oh.” A moan escaped my lips as my back arched off the bed of straitjackets.
"There it is." Rook watched me writhe. "Your body recognizes the truth, even if your mind isn't ready to accept it."
"That's not—" I gasped as another clench of emptiness seized my core. "Soul bonds are theoretical. There's no scientific evidence—"
"There's you." His hand slid down my throat and his fingers rested against my pulse point, feeling it race. "There's me. There's the fact that I went all my life without a single rut, and then I saw your photograph and nearly killed three guards from the force of finally presenting."
His eyes held mine. "That's not theory, Beloved. That's us."
Us.
Like we were already a unit.
Already bonded.
Already inevitable.
The terrifying part was how right it felt.
And even more. . .the patient tenderness he was showing me didn’t make sense.
This was a man who had murdered without hesitation, who had dismembered bodies with ritualistic precision, who had staged remains like grotesque art installations meant to beunderstood.
And yet his tone was careful.
Lovingly patient.
As if I were something fragile he was afraid to break.
My mind tried to reconcile the two versions of him—the monster and the loving man.
The contradiction made me dizzy.
"You. . .planned this day." My voice grew shaky. "All of it."
"I planned everything." He traced his thumb along my lower lip, and I shuddered. "The interview request. The timing. Thebreakout. Every member of my Court in position, every guard who could be bought, every door that would open at exactly the right moment."
His eyes held mine. "I've been planning this for two years, Willow. From the moment I saw your photograph and my body finally understood what it had been waiting for."
