And then there’s Leonard. Dressed as a leather pup. Black leather gleams over him, straps crisscrossing his chest in a harness that frames his body well, every silver buckle catching the flicker of streetlamps outside. But the hood… Gods above, the hood is what does it. A full pup mask, ears perked, snout molded, rivets shining. A collar circles his throat, a chain coiled lazily in one gloved hand as though he actually owns the look.
The irony isn’t lost on any of us. Minerva smirks, and I press my lips together to hide a laugh. Leonard just grins through the muzzle like he was born for this. He leans into the absurdity instead of fighting it, lounging against the seat as though he’s the crown jewel of this ridiculous circus. I lean across him, catching Minerva’s attention, and smirk. “Told you you’d make a good Domme.”
She smiles, but there’s a flicker in her eyes, a quick dart of concern that dilutes the playfulness of the moment.
“No one’s going to recognize us,” I assure her.
“I’m not worried about anyone recognizing me,” she says, her voice pitched low, more growl than words. “I’m worried about people recognizingyou.”
I glance down at myself and huff a laugh. “Who the hell is going to recognize me dressed like this?”
Min smirks, giving me a once-over. “I have to say, you do look hot.”
“Why, thank you,” I reply, aiming for light, but even I can hear the nerves in my voice. She crooks a finger, pulling me closer until her warm breath brushes against my ear.
“I think your husband is having a hard time keeping his eyes off you.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks before I can stop it. My traitorous pulse stutters, and I don’t dare look in Marcus’s direction because I already know she’s right. I felt his gaze earlier—heavy and lingering, like it was marking me.
By the time we arrive at the party, the swarm in my stomach has become a full-blown hive of bees battering their wings against my ribs. Every step closer to those doors makes the air thicker, harder to breathe. Gods, I hope this works. I hope tonight gives us something—anything—to make sense of the mess our families have been thrown into.
Because if it doesn’t, then all of this—the disguises, the tension, the dangerous heat simmering between me and Marcus—will have been for nothing.
I swallow hard as we reach the door. My throat is dry, my palms clammy, every instinct expecting the worst. That the bouncer will see right through us, that the glamour will fail at the last second, that everything will unravel before we even get inside. But instead, the bouncer flashes us a grin, stamps his approval, and waves us through.
The velvet curtainspart like a stage being revealed, and I step into a world I was not prepared for.
Heat slams into me first, thick and cloying, like I’ve just entered a steam room. The air feels saturated with pheromones, as if desire has a scent and we’ve just walked straight into its heart. Bodies writhe everywhere, pressed together in varying degrees of abandon. Some half-dressed, some barely at all. Mouths lock, hands roam, hips grind in shadows and in plain sight. The room is alive with want.
My wolf recoils and leans in at the same time, unsettled and intrigued, and I can’t decide if I want to back out the way we came or get swept deeper into the chaos.
“Holy fuck,” Min breathes beside me, wide-eyed.
“Yeah, you can say that again,” Leonard adds with a wolfish grin. “Not sure what I was expecting, but this place looks like a fun time.”
I press my lips together, fighting the flush rising in my cheeks. Fun time isn’t the phrase I’d use. Dangerous. Unmoored. Exposed. Those fit better. Because if the glamour fails in here, I’ll be devoured in more ways than one.
“I’ll get us some drinks,” I say, pivoting toward the bar.
“Wait.”
The word cracks through the air, sharp and commanding, and it stops me cold. My body freezes before my mind even catches up—like every instinct in me has been trained to obey that tone. Marcus’s tone.
Huh. Did he just go full alpha on me?
Slowly, I turn back to face him. His eyes are hard, steady, his presence radiating enough dominance to make the hair on myarms stand on end. “You aren’t going anywhere on your own in here,” he says.
A shiver races straight down my spine. It’s not fear. It’s something far more dangerous. A thrill, sharp and unexpected, coils in my stomach. My wolf perks up, ears forward, practically wagging her tail at the sound of his authority.
Well, paint me pink and call me Susie. Did I just get a shiver?
I clear my throat quickly, trying to mask it with humor, though my flaming cheeks betray me. “Okay,” I say, lifting my chin to cover the tremor in my voice. “But hurry. My tongue’s about two seconds away from sticking to the roof of my mouth.”
Marcus falls into step beside me, his presence a wall of quiet strength. Then his hand finds the small of my back, firm but not possessive, steering me toward the bar.
The effect is immediate. The crowded room no longer feels like a threat pressing in from every angle. With his hand there, I feel… safe. Shielded. It’s not a brand of ownership, but it carries a message all the same—a warning to anyone watching that he would kill for me without a moment’s hesitation.
My first instinct is to bristle, to shrug him off and snarl something cutting.I don’t need you pissing on me like some territorial wolf. That’s the line I should take. That’s the wall I’ve built between us.
