Chapter 3: The Stranger on the stairs

The wedding is in three days.

My mother moved him into the pack house the next morning. His things. His wolves. His smell.

Everything smells like him now.

I stay in my father's study. I sleep in his chair. I don't go to the main hall. I don't eat with them.

My mother doesn't come find me.

Good.

Today is different. Today she sends a maid. The maid says I must attend the dinner. The Alpha requests my presence.

The Alpha. Not my stepfather yet. Just the Alpha.

I don't change out of my black dress. I don't fix my hair. I go the way I am.

The main hall is full again. Obsidian Ridge wolves everywhere. Silverclaw wolves in the corners. Quiet. Watching.

My mother sits at the head of the table. In my father's chair.

Darius is not there.

I stand by the door. I don't sit. I don't eat. I wait.

The room is loud. Wolves laugh. Wolves drink. Wolves celebrate the death of my father's pack.

My wolf moves inside me. Restless.

Then the room goes quiet.

One by one. The wolves stop talking. Stop laughing. They turn toward the stairs.

I turn too.

And I see him.

Darius stands at the top of the staircase.

He is not wearing what he wore before. Not the formal clothes. Not the Alpha robes.

He wears black. Fitted. His chest is broad. His shoulders are wide. His hair is damp like he just came from washing.

The light from the chandelier hits him.

And he looks like a god.

Not a kind god. Not a gentle one.

A god of war. Of hunger. Of things that should not be wanted.

He puts his hand on the railing. He takes one step down.

My breath stops.

He takes another step.

My wolf.

My wolf wakes up.

Not the slow waking. Not the stretch and yawn.

She explodes inside my chest.

She howls.

A sound I have never heard from her. Loud. Desperate. Like she has been sleeping her whole life and just now opened her eyes.

Like she found something she lost before she was born.

Like she found him.

I grab the wall. My knees go weak.

Darius keeps walking down the stairs.

He is not looking at the crowd. Not looking at my mother. Not looking at anyone.

He is looking at me.

His eyes find mine. And they hold.

The howl inside me gets louder. My whole body shakes.

I want to run. I want to hide. I want to crawl across the floor and press myself at his feet.

I don't know where these thoughts come from.

I don't want them.

But they are mine.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs.

He is ten feet from me.

Eight feet.

Five.

He stops.

Up close he is bigger. Taller than I remember. His jaw is sharp. His mouth is hard. But his eyes. His eyes are light. Almost colorless. Like ice. Like moonlight.

Like they can see through my skin and into my bones.

"Kiera," he says.

His voice is low. Deep. It vibrates in my chest.

My wolf whines.

"Alpha," I say.

His mouth twitches.

"Not yet. Just Darius."

He says my name like he owns it.

I should say something else. I should walk away. I should spit on his shoes.

I do nothing.

I stand there. Trembling. While my wolf howls.

He tilts his head. Looks at my dress. The black one. The funeral dress.

"You're not celebrating," he says.

"There's nothing to celebrate."

My mother's voice cuts in. "Kiera. Manners."

Darius raises his hand. She stops talking.

He looks at me again.

"No," he says. "There isn't."

He walks past me. His arm brushes mine.

The touch is nothing. A second. Less.

My whole body lights on fire.

I watch him walk to the table. He sits next to my mother. She leans into him. Touches his arm.

I want to rip her hand off.

The thought comes fast. Hot. Ugly.

I shove it down.

This is my mother. This is her husband. This is wrong.

My wolf doesn't care.

My wolf wants to go to him. My wolf wants to crawl into his lap and bare her throat.

I leave the hall.

I walk fast. Down the corridor. Past the kitchen. Past the training yard. To the garden.

The garden my father planted for me.

I fall to my knees in the dirt.

My hands shake. My breath comes fast. My chest hurts.

What was that.

What was that.

I have never felt anything like that. Not with the boys in the pack. Not with anyone.

He is a stranger. He is my father's enemy. He is marrying my mother.

And my wolf howled for him.

I press my hands into the dirt. I dig my fingers in. I feel the cold earth.

My wolf is still moving inside me. Still pacing. Still calling.

For him.

I look up at the sky. The stars are out. Cold. Distant.

"Father," I whisper. "What is happening to me."

No answer. There is never an answer.

I hear footsteps behind me.

I don't turn.

"Kiera."

His voice.

I close my eyes.

"Go away."

He doesn't go away.

He walks closer. I hear the grass crunch under his boots.

"You felt it too," he says.

"Felt what."

"Don't pretend."

I stand up. Turn around.

He is five feet away. His face is different now. Softer. But not kind. Hungry.

"I felt nothing," I say.

He takes a step closer.

"Your hands are shaking."

"It's cold."

"It's not cold."

He takes another step.

I step back. My back hits a tree.

He stops. Still three feet away.

"You don't have to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid."

"Good."

He looks at my neck. At the pulse there. I know it's pounding.

"You should go inside," I say.

"I should."

He doesn't move.

Neither do I.

His eyes drop to my mouth. Just for a second. Then back to my eyes.

"Your wolf knows mine," he says.

"My wolf doesn't know anything."

"Liar."

He says it soft. Almost gentle.

My knees shake.

"I am not yours," I say. "You are marrying my mother."

"I am aware."

"Then leave me alone."

"I can't."

"Why."

He looks at the sky. Then back at me.

"Because I have been looking for you my whole life. And I just found you."

The words hit my chest like stones.

I push past him. I run.

I don't look back.

But I feel his eyes on my back.

And my wolf.

My wolf is still howling.