Danae’s POV
The Hermes Hotel was the most expensive building in the city—marble and gold, something that had only ever existed for me inside magazine spreads.
My heart hammered as Caspian slid a matte black card to access the penthouse suite.
The manager personally rode up with us, never once asking for ID.
In the elevator, we stood in charged silence.
I could feel his gaze moving over me—not assessing.
Devouring.
My skin prickled where his eyes rested, and I found myself wetting my lips without intending to.
When our reflections met in the mirrored wall, electricity crackled through the glass between us.
Prey being measured by something that could end it.
Strangely, the shiver that produced was delicious.
Inside the suite, I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked down at the glittering city below.
The height made my head swim.
“From here, the whole city looks like it’s yours,” I said.
My voice trembled slightly.
Behind me, fabric rustled.
His suit jacket.
Then the metallic clink of cufflinks hitting the table, and another shiver moved through me before I could stop it.
I watched his reflection—broad shoulders moving beneath his white shirt, muscles shifting with each unhurried motion.
“You can change your mind,” he said.
Unexpectedly quiet.
I turned to face him, and my breath caught.
Moonlight shaped his silhouette in the center of the room, the top buttons of his shirt already undone, a sliver of tanned skin exposed.
“No,” I whispered.
Everything in my body pulled toward him in ways I didn’t want to examine.
“I don’t want to change my mind.”
Caspian crossed the room—each step a precise calibration of my pulse—until his cologne folded around me.
Sandalwood, and something purely male beneath it, and heat radiating from his body before he’d even touched me.
“Why me?” His voice was a low vibration in my chest.
“Because of who I am?
Or do you need any wolf tonight?” His fingers brushed my hair back—a casual touch that burned.
I looked up at him.
Tears threatened with no warning, a tightness clamping down on my chest.
“Because you’re not Galen Bryneholm.” My voice broke on the name.
Caspian stilled.
Something complicated moved behind his eyes.
“Bryneholm.
The wolf about to become Delta.”
I bit my lip and tasted blood, realizing I’d said too much.
“Forget I said that,” I whispered, reaching up to trace the hard line of his jaw.
“No past tonight.”
A second later he showed me exactly what he was—pressing me back against the wall, powerful arms caging me in.
Hard muscle against soft curves.
The heat between us nearly scorching.
“If you’re using me to get back at him,” he growled, his lips inches from mine, “I should know why.”
“He betrayed me.” The words cracked apart.
“The day before our wedding.” Pain and want, braided together in my voice.
“Happy now?”
His eyes gleamed gold in the dimness.
The wolf, closer to the surface.
I could feel his heart slamming against my chest, matching my own frantic rhythm.
“You were to be his mate?”
The possessive growl in his voice did something to my insides I refused to examine.
Defiantly, I pulled down the collar of my blouse and exposed the bare curve where my neck met my shoulder.
“See?
No mark.
I wasn’t even worth completing the ceremony for.”
His control snapped.
He kissed me—rough and hot and hungry—his hands tangling in my hair, tilting my head back to deepen it.
Electric current seemed to pour through my entire body, pooling low, and I heard myself moan against his mouth.
I clutched at his shoulders, my nails finding purchase through the expensive fabric.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, his eyes had gone fully gold—cold, primal, bright with something ancient.
He dragged his thumb across his own swollen lower lip.
“Just tonight” he said, his voice wrecked.
We stumbled toward the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way.
Each inch of golden skin he revealed made my mouth go dry.
When I stood bare in front of him, his eyes darkened as they moved over me—making me feel simultaneously vulnerable and more powerful than I’d felt all night.
Caspian’s touch was both rough and careful, setting my skin ablaze wherever his fingers trailed.
My body responded to his as though we’d been lovers for years instead of strangers who’d met an hour ago.
When his lips traveled to my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point, I felt a hollow yearning I’d never experienced—an ache that needed filling.
“Will you—mark me?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, heavy with need and something darker underneath it.
He paused.
Chest heaving against mine, he forced himself back from the edge.
The struggle played clearly across his face.
“No.” His voice came out rough.
“Marking is sacred.
Not a tool for revenge.”
“Then don’t hold back.” I dragged my nails down his back.
“I want to forget everything.”
When he finally entered me, the stretching pain made me gasp sharply, my body tensing, my nails digging crescents into the muscle of his back.
Tears pricked at my eyes.
Caspian let out a low, appreciative sound.
“You’re so tight, little doe.” Voice strained with the effort of holding still.
He brushed the hair from my damp forehead with surprising tenderness.
“Your fiancé had terrible taste, throwing away a prize like you.” His hips stayed motionless, letting me adjust.
Shame and defiance warred in my chest, heating my face.
“Just keep going,” I managed, rolling my hips experimentally and gasping at what that produced.
His movements became gentler—more controlled—and to my own surprise, we found a rhythm together that built toward something overwhelming.
Each thrust drew breathless sounds from both of us, the connection far more intense than I’d imagined.
My body answered his as though it had always known how.
When release finally hit, it crashed through me in waves, drawing a cry I buried against his shoulder.
Caspian bit his own wrist instead of my neck, his body shuddering hard against mine.
But I still felt something forming between us—something I couldn’t name or explain, something that frightened and thrilled me in equal measure.
Morning light filtered through the curtains.
Warm against bare skin.
I opened my eyes to unfamiliar surroundings, briefly adrift.
My whole body ached in a way that was brand new—every small movement a reminder.
The sheets felt impossibly soft against my sensitized skin.
I turned carefully and found Caspian with his back to me.
My breath caught.
Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, perfect muscle marred by the angry red lines I’d left in the night.
Heat bloomed in my cheeks as the flashes came back—my legs locked around his waist, his name pulled from my throat, his teeth grazing my shoulder.
“You’re awake,” Caspian said.
Didn’t turn.
Morning-rough, but clearly amused.
I yanked the sheet up, heart lurching.
“I thought you were still asleep.”
He rolled over, the sheet sliding dangerously low on his hips.
His expression was serious, but his eyes moved over my bare shoulders and the curve of my collarbone with undisguised hunger.
“Werewolf hearing.
Your accelerated heartbeat would wake the dead.”
I attempted casual.
“Well—I should probably go.”
His gaze dropped to the bloodstained sheets.
His nostrils flared slightly—scenting the evidence.
Something shifted in his expression.
“So last night was your first time.” Not quite a question.
A hint of surprise.
And something else beneath it, harder to read.