His mouth crushed against hers, pinning her to the wall.
For a second, her body responded before her mind took over.
Then the spell broke.
She shoved both hands against his chest and pushed him away violently.
Her hair came loose, a cascade of silvery white spilling over her shoulder.
Elias staggered back toward the leather armchair, catching himself on the armrest.
“What the hell…
Did I screw up?” “You tell me.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, hard enough to make the skin sting.
“Whatever you imagine is happening here, it’s over.” “What are you talking about?
Is this because of the wedding?” “Yes.
I’m getting married.” He let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“Since when does that change anything between us?
You told me it was just paperwork.” “Things change.” Her voice came out devoid of emotion, like that of a stranger.
“It won’t happen again.
Get out.” He didn’t move.
His gaze swept over her face as if he couldn’t tell who she was anymore.
“Not until you explain what’s going on.
You’ve been different for weeks.
The way you talk.
The way you flinch when I touch you.” His jaw tightened.
“This isn’t you, Colette.
I’ve known you since we were kids.” She felt a knot form in her stomach.
“Be careful, Elias.” “Or what?” His voice cracked.
“You’re just going to stand there and tell me nothing’s changed?
Everyone can see it.” “Get out.” He took a step toward her, his hand raised.
“Just listen to me…” “I said get out!” A burst of power surged from her before she could hold it back; and the Alpha command caused him to stagger.
He caught himself on the doorframe.
For a moment, he stood there, gasping, staring at her in complete disbelief.
Then he turned on his heel and left.
The door slammed shut behind him with such violence that the windowpanes rattled.
Her legs gave way.
She made her way to the vanity and gripped the edge until her knuckles popped, her gaze fixed on the woman in the mirror.
“Colette,” she whispered to the glass, leaving the mist of her breath upon it.
“Where are you?
Why won’t you answer me?” The real Colette and her Beta had been lovers.
Rosella hadn’t known that an hour ago.
Now, she was navigating this woman’s life without a map to spot the buried landmines, and Elias, grieving, wary, and in love with someone who no longer existed, was the one closest to the truth.
She was heading toward the bed when the mark on her shoulder blade flared with heat.
She doubled over onto the mattress, her fingers clutching the sheets until the burning sensation subsided, leaving only a dull ache.
A reminder.
Her time was running out.
*** The next day was swallowed up by meetings.
Late in the afternoon, Martha knocked on the door to remind her of their outing.
Elias was already waiting by the SUV, the door open.
He didn’t look at her as she got in; his eyes remained fixed on the street, his jaw set, before he took his seat in the front without a word.
Colette then turned to Martha.
“I need a few items today.
You’ll be the one to pick them out.” “Of course.” Martha offered a faint smile.
The L’Aura store rose three stories high in the heart of the shopping district, a structure of glass and pale stone.
Elias stationed guards outside without being asked.
Inside, a woman wearing a charcoal-grey jacket emerged from the back of the shop, her dark auburn hair swept up into a bun, and bowed respectfully.
“Alpha Colette.
I am Edna Vance.
You didn’t need to come in person; we could have had everything delivered to you.” “I felt like getting out.” Colette allowed herself a smile.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this part of town.” “Of course.” Edna bowed even lower, with more warmth this time.
“This way, Madam.” In the VIP lounge, racks laden with fabrics lined the walls.
“We need a dress for tomorrow’s reception,” Colette said.
“Outfits for the Council, something for daily wear.
Negligees.
Something black.” Martha immediately moved toward a crimson dress richly adorned with gold braid.
“This one.
It commands attention.” “Too heavy.” Colette shook her head.
Edna pulled out a midnight-blue silk dress from further along the rack; it featured clean lines and a slit running up to the thigh.
“Perhaps this one?
Simple.
It won’t restrict your movement.” “Perfect.” Inside the fitting room, the silk slid over her shoulder; the mark of the curse began to throb beneath it with a dull, aching pain.
Edna stepped through the curtain to pull up the zipper.
“It’s a good thing you came in person,” Edna said, her eyes fixed on the fabric rather than on her.
“By tonight, the whole neighborhood will know you walked these floors yourself.” “Does that bother you?” “Not at all.” Edna met her gaze in the mirror.
“It just makes me curious about the kind of Alpha who will be receiving guests tomorrow.” “Come and find out for yourself.” The words left Colette’s lips before she had even decided to say them.
“I’ll send you an invitation.” Edna blinked, just once, then inclined her head, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“That would be an honor.” “Call me Colette.
You’re older than I am, after all.” They moved on to jackets: charcoal gray, navy blue, tailored cuts.
Colette chose three without breaking her stride.
Then Edna laid out some nightwear on the velvet bench, running her hand over a pale garment with a high lace collar.
“For the wedding night, I assume?” Colette’s hand hovered motionless over the fabric.
“Just something to sleep in.
That’s all.” “Of course.” Edna’s lips curved upward.
“Though that collar won’t hide much, should the scars be a cause for concern.” Colette’s fingers froze against the lace.
“I’m not worried about anything.” Edna didn’t press the issue.
But her gaze slid, for a mere second, toward the collar of Colette’s shirt, toward the spot where the mark remained hidden beneath, before she turned to lead the way to the back room.
Black dresses hung there, arranged from heaviest to lightest.
Colette ran her fingers along the row and stopped at a high-necked, long-sleeved dress, the sort of style that covered everything.
She slipped it on.
Edna pinned a black hairnet to her temple, tucked a single rose into it, and stepped back.
In the mirror, silver hair.
Violet eyes.
Another woman’s face, and beneath it, Rosella, thinking of the lake, of Alaric’s hands closing around her throat, of the two words her mother had screamed before the water swallowed them up.
In two days, Rosella Shawn would be laid to rest.
Colette Ansgard would stand in the front pew of the cathedral, dressed in black, and study every face in the congregation.
Someone out there had decided she had to die.
Someone out there might even believe they had gotten away with it.
She fully intended to find out who.
And she fully intended to make them pay.