“You bastard!” The words tore from my throat as I went for his face. “You destroyed everything and now you want to play alpha?”
He caught my wrists but I fought dirty, knee driving toward his groin with vicious intent. He twisted to avoid the blow, but it gave me the opening I needed. My teeth sought his throat, wanting to tear and maim the way he’d torn my life apart. Twice.
“You ripped my life apart!” I screamed, thrashing in his grip. “I won’t let you do it again!”
“Stop!” His voice held genuine alarm now. “You’ll hurt yourself, the pup… Rhea!”
But I was beyond caring about the consequences. Beyond caring about anything but making him hurt the way I hurt. Let me hurt him like he hurt me, I thought viciously. Just once.
My claws found his forearms as he tried to restrain me without causing harm. More blood. More beautiful damage to mark my rage on his skin. He’d heal quicker than any other wolf, alphas always did, but for this moment, I was the one drawing blood, the one causing pain.
The twins responded to my emotional storm with their own movement, sharp kicks that should have stopped me but only fueled my fury. Even they were caught in this moment of violence, this explosion of everything I’d suppressed for months.
Carlton appeared in the doorway, hand moving to his weapon, but Damon snarled at him to stay back. Even now, even as I tried to tear him apart, he was protecting me from his security.
The realization made me fight harder, needing him to be the monster I’d painted in my mind, not this complicated man who wouldn’t let his guard harm me even in self-defense.
27
— • —
Rhea
Somewhere between my hopeless rage and Damon’s insistent need for control, Damon had won. I had exhausted myself and passed out in his arms. The last of Millbrook that I remembered was being carried into the car and buckled in as I passed the ‘Visit Again’ sign.
The Kildare compound looked exactly as it did the night of my banishment, immaculate, intimidating, a monument to alpha power. The same manicured lawns rolled toward the forest line. The same marble columns framed the entrance like teeth. The same pristine windows reflected winter sun with cold perfection. But now I saw it differently: a prettier prison than my apartment, but a prison nonetheless.
Damon’s hand on my elbow guided me through the main entrance, his grip firm enough to prevent escape attempts. Themarble felt familiar beneath my feet, though I’d only walked these halls for two nights before my world imploded. My body remembered, even if my mind wanted to forget.
Staff members stopped mid-task to stare openly at my obvious pregnancy. A maid carrying linens froze so abruptly she nearly dropped her burden. Two footmen exchanged loaded glances over my swollen belly. The whispers followed our progress through marble halls like rustling leaves, each one speculating about the omega who’d returned carrying the Lycan King’s child.
I fought nausea that had nothing to do with morning sickness. These walls had witnessed my greatest triumph, being claimed by the Lycan King in a haze of heat and need. They’d also witnessed my greatest downfall, being dragged before the council and condemned for a crime I didn’t commit. Now I returned as what? Not mate, the rejection had severed that. Not quite a prisoner, though guards would watch my door. Something undefined and therefore dangerous, a pregnant omega with claims on the bloodline but no official status.
“Your room has been prepared,” Damon said, his voice carefully neutral as we climbed the main staircase.
“My cell, you mean.” The words came out sharper than intended, but I was beyond caring about diplomacy.
We’d made it halfway across the main foyer when she appeared.
Lucinda Kildare materialized like a designer-clad nightmare, stepping from the formal parlor as if she’d been lying in wait. Her appearance was perfection itself, Chanel suit in winter white, hair precisely cut to frame her ageless face, diamonds at her throat that could fund a small country. Every inch of herscreamed wealth, breeding, and the kind of power that came from never having to ask twice for anything.
The contrast made me hyperaware of my thrift store maternity clothes, the dress I’d bought for three dollars because it was the only thing that fit my growing belly. My worn shoes had walked too many Millbrook streets. My cheaper haircut had been done by a student at the beauty school, fifteen dollars including tip. Everything about me announced my desperate circumstances, and Lucinda’s eyes catalogued each deficit with undisguised revulsion.
Her gaze fixed on my bump, and her perfect features twisted with disgust. “So the whore returns, belly full of a bastard.”
“Mother,” Damon started, but Lucinda cut him off with a gesture so imperious it should have required a scepter.
She circled me like a predator evaluating prey, her heels clicking on marble with metronomic precision. Each pass brought a fresh wave of her expensive perfume, an exclusive that probably cost more than my monthly rent had. Her examination was thorough and cruel, noting every sign of hard living the past months had carved into me.
“Look at you,” she said, voice dripping contempt like honey laced with poison. “Breeding like the animal you are. Did you trap another alpha with your heat? Or is this actually my son’s?”
The implication, that I’d spread my legs for any available alpha, made my claws threaten to emerge. I clenched my fists hard but not enough to draw blood, using the pain to maintain human form.
“Every word from your mouth proves you’re trash,” Lucinda continued, completing her circuit to stand before me like a judge pronouncing a sentence. “Gutter omega who used her body to climb above her station.”
“Better trash than a bitter harpy whose own mate couldn’t stand her.” The words escaped before wisdom could stop them.
Don’t let her see how deep her words cut you, I commanded myself even as I watched fury transform her perfect features.
