Page 19 of Abandoned By My Alpha Husband

"Okay," she said. Her voice was even lighter than before, like a cloud falling to earth and blown away by the wind. "Then get some rest."

She turned and left, closing the door. The study went dark again, only moonlight remaining.

I sat in the chair, hand on the armrest. Just now, when her hand touched my knee, my body had no reaction—no racing heart, no heated glands, no sensation of something gripping my spine and dragging me deeper.

My wolf only recognized one scent. Only lily and bay leaf. Only the girl pulled to me by the bond that night.

I sat in the darkness, lower back against the chair, breathing gradually deepening. Thinking of her, my body responded—heat spreading, blood surging from my heart downward like a tide, needing no external stimulus. My hand dropped from the armrest to my knee, fingertips clenching and releasing, then clenching again.

Heat pooled in my most sensitive place.

I closed my eyes. Exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale again. Images flooded my mind unbidden, senses stirred by memory. Her soft body, long hair brushing my face, tickling, accompanied by laurel and incense—

I gasped, palm pressing there as I inhaled deeply again, tilting my head back, skull against the chair, Adam's apple bobbing. Moonlight pooled on the floor, stretching my shadow into a vague line. Eyes closed, I began working myself.

I called for her in my mind. I shouted "where the fuck are you," but she didn't answer. Only my own increasingly heavy breathing filled the study. I undid my pants, and when my fingers closed, I bit my lower lip, forcing the groan down my throat. My wolf thrashed inside like a caged beast locked up too long. I wanted her. From that night five years ago, only her. I'd searched for five years, three months, every street, every bar, but all I could do was here in my study, in the darkness, in nights nobody knew about, surviving on memories of her scent and the slightly trembling breath when she bit my ear.

Head tilted back, lips parted, when the final moment came, my entire back went rigid. Several seconds passed before I slowly relaxed, breathing long and slow, like surfacing after being submerged too long. Moonlight still lit the floor. The study air now carried a faint, damp smell. I glanced at my hand, grabbed tissues from the desk, and wiped, then stood, loosened my collar, and walked into the study bathroom.

When hot water poured down, I stood in the stream with closed eyes, palm pressed against the cool tile wall, thoughts gradually returning. Elena had no scent.

I lifted my hand, washing water off my face. A wolf with no scent. That wasn't right. Wolves had pheromones from birth. Scent was part of identity, part of bloodline, the foundation of bonds. What did a scentless wolf mean? It meant her bloodline was questionable, her origins wouldn't hold up to scrutiny, that this daughter the Gray family sent had problems.

The Gray family. A bunch of merchants who'd do anything for profit. Sending a scentless wolf to my side—why?

I laughed coldly, shut off the water, grabbed a towel and dried off, pulled on a robe, and walked out, hair still dripping. I went to the desk, picked up the internal phone, and dialed.

"Marcus."

He answered almost immediately. "Your Majesty."

"Investigate," I said. "The Gray family's second daughter. The one found five years ago. Find out where she was before, who she was with, what she did, and why she suddenly appeared. As detailed as possible."

"Understood."

"Also—" I paused. "Something's wrong with her scent. A wolf can't be completely without pheromones, even a half-blood. Find out what she really is."

"Yes."

I hung up and stood at the desk for a while. Moonlight streamed through the window, falling on the open desk, the pen holder, the stationery, and a small rock Liam left last time he played here. I picked up the rock, turned it over, and held it in my palm. The stone was cold. I played with it quietly. Elena. She kept her composure, losing face in front of guests without reacting.

But that look in her eyes—

I stared out the window. Streetlights glowed in the distance. Reserpine's night was quiet. That look reminded me of something, but I couldn't place it, like a melody circling in my head that I couldn't catch.

But I'd find out.

Chapter Five

Elena

The bridal suite was huge.

A king-size bed draped in dark red satin. Two silver candlesticks on the nightstands. An oil painting on the wall—a wolf on a moonlit cliff, staring into the distance. Heavy velvet curtains shut tight, blocking out the moon. One wall sconce threw off weak yellow light.

I sat on the edge of the bed in my mud-stained wedding dress. A maid offered to help me change. I waved her off. The room fell silent except for my breathing.

I removed my makeup, showered, changed into clothes from the wardrobe, and sat back down on the bed.