Henrik heard her before he even reached the Rose Room.
“No, that can wait until I get back.” Her voice was clipped, carrying that sharp tone she reserved for business matters.
“I’ll go there first thing tomorrow morning.
Tell them to wait until I return.
We’ll discuss the rest once I’m on site.” He paused in the doorway.
The room held the same scent it had three years ago: the fragrance of sweet, dried roses lingering in the air, the kind of scent that seeps deep into the wood.
She was wearing a simple, short emerald-green dress that looked tailor-made for her, accentuating every curve.
He stepped into the room, fighting a sudden, sharp tightness in his chest and wondering what had been coming over him lately.
She turned at the sound of his footsteps, her silver hair catching the light of the setting sun.
She was holding her phone to her ear.
“I have to go,” she said, ending the call abruptly.
“You didn’t have to cut that call short on my account.” “It’s nothing.” She set the phone down on a small table.
“Just routine business.
How is Laura doing this morning?” Henrik crossed the room to the sofa and sat down.
“She’s fine.
She’s keeping busy.” She gave a soft laugh as she settled into the armchair opposite him.
“She has a knack for that.” Letting her gaze wander around the room, she said, “I like the red of these walls.
It makes you forget your worries for a moment.” “Elena chose the color and the furniture for Laura,” he said, the name taking a small effort.
Colette’s expression softened.
“She created a beautiful space.” “It’s fine.
It was a long time ago.” He nodded, waving it off.
“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Henrik said.
“All right.” She clasped her hands in her lap, sitting up straight.
“Laura…” he began.
“I know you didn’t sign up to be her mother.
You’ve been good to her, far better than I’d hoped.
But our contract only lasts a year.
Once it’s over, we’ll go our separate ways.
I don’t want her to build a bond with you only to lose it all later.
She’s already suffered too much loss.” Colette paused and met his gaze.
“I can’t promise what will happen after this year.
But as long as I’m here, I’ll do my best for her.” An intense, unexpected warmth spread through his chest.
“Thank you.
For being so kind to her.” “She makes things easy, Henrik.
It’s hard not to get attached to her.” “You know, I didn’t expect the Wolf of Death to be so gentle with children.
Your reputation precedes you.” She gave a mocking laugh, a pout settling over her features.
“That damn reputation.” That pout reminded him so much of Laura that he burst out laughing.
The tension tightening his chest finally eased.
She looked at him in surprise, a faint smile touching her lips.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile,” she said softly.
“You should do it more often.” He composed himself and cleared his throat as the atmosphere between them shifted, growing heavy with everything neither of them wanted to name.
His wolf stirred restlessly beneath his skin.
She stood up and walked around the coffee table toward the door.
Henrik rose as well, instinctively stepping into her path to block the exit.
“Colette.” She stopped, her eyes fixed on his chest.
“Look at me.” He placed a finger under her chin to tilt her face up.
“Let’s not do this,” she whispered, a flush rising to her cheeks.
“Do what?” “This…” She made a vague gesture in the space between them.
He had no answer.
His mind clouded, his breathing grew heavy, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to press her against him.
“Henrik…” she began, but he cut her off.
He kissed her passionately.
She surrendered to his embrace, as if she, too, were weary of fighting it.
He cradled her jaw with his left hand while his right gripped her hip, pulling her even closer.
She moaned, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.
He leaned down slightly to lift her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Without breaking the kiss, he carried her to the heavy wooden table in the corner.
As he set her down, he knocked over a decorative vase, which shattered on the floor.
He broke the kiss to trail his lips along her neck.
She arched her back with a soft moan, whispering his name.
Her fingernails raked across Henrik’s back through his shirt, driving him wild with desire.
He slid his hands beneath the hem of her dress as he pressed closer to her.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
“Henrik, I was looking for you…” Darla’s voice cut the moment short, trailing off mid-sentence as she entered the room.
“Get out!” Henrik snapped, turning sharply toward her with a furious look.
His Alpha pheromones flooded the room in an explosive surge.
Darla froze, stared at the scene for a split second longer, then turned and fled.
He turned back toward Colette, but she had already withdrawn into herself.
Dammit.
“Let me go.” She pulled her arms away from his shoulders and stepped back to adjust her dress.
Reluctantly, he let her go.
The moment her feet touched the floor, she bolted from the room, her quick footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Henrik leaned against the table, breathless.
The situation was slipping out of his control.
He headed straight for the training yard to work off the tension but ended up calling Torin instead.
They met at Henrik’s favorite bar, a dark spot with private booths and dim lighting that guaranteed total privacy.
After two drinks, Torin studied him with the quiet patience born of twenty years of close friendship.
“You’re going to have to say it someday,” Torin said.
“Whatever it is that’s tormenting you.” “I promised myself I’d never do this again,” Henrik said, his voice hoarse.
“It’s not fair to Laura.
It’s not fair to the pack.” “What does the pack have to do with it?” Torin asked gently.
“I know how much you suffered when you lost your Luna.
I was there, remember?
I know your union started as a marriage of convenience, but there’s something happening between the two of you.
You’ve played the father figure long enough, Henrik.
It’s time to let yourself be a man.” “I feel like I’m betraying her memory,” Henrik murmured.
“Elena wouldn’t want you tormenting yourself like this.
She’d want you to live.” Torin started to rise from the booth.
“I’m going to order us another round.” Before he could step into the aisle, a woman’s silhouette appeared on the semi-transparent curtain that filtered the diffuse light of the lounge.
The curtain parted, revealing Harmony, who wore a bright, practiced smile.
A waiter hovered just behind her shoulder, carrying a silver tray with two freshly poured glasses.
“Well, well.
Good to see you here, gentlemen,” she said in a smooth, honeyed tone.
She looked at Torin and added, “Torin, mind giving us a minute?” Torin shot Henrik a warning glance.
Henrik made a subtle gesture to signal it was fine, allowing Torin to step toward the bar.
Harmony slid onto the banquette opposite Henrik.
She took the two glasses from the waiter’s tray, dismissing him with a wave of her hand, and placed one of the crystal tumblers directly in front of Henrik.
“I noticed you two when you arrived earlier,” she said, leaning back as the light curtain fell into place, sealing them off from the rest of the lounge.
“So I thought I’d come over and toast the groom-to-be.” Distracted and annoyed with thoughts of Colette, he grabbed the glass and took a long swallow.
It wasn’t until the heat in his chest turned thick, heavy, and unnatural that he realized what she had done.
“What did you…” “Just relax.” Her hand slid across the table and up his arm as a strange lethargy rapidly washed over him.
“Let me take care of you tonight.” She leaned toward him, her body pressing against his.
Fighting the heavy fog clouding his mind, Henrik managed to get out a single word.
“Torin!” he rasped.
He managed to speak the name through the haze.
A second later, the curtain was violently yanked aside.
Torin’s silhouette burst into the booth, a sudden flash of movement.
Henrik felt Harmony’s body being roughly torn away from his as Torin grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her against the opposite wall.
Torin’s voice rang out over the lounge’s ambient hum, delivering a sharp, menacing warning, but the words blurred and distorted in Henrik’s ears, impossible to decipher through the thick mental fog.
“Get to the truck,” Torin ordered, hauling Henrik to his feet by the arm.
The journey back came in snatches: Torin’s calm voice beside him, Henrik’s hands trembling from the immense effort required to keep his wolf in check.
A single thought pierced the fog.
Colette.
He needed Colette.
He didn’t remember approaching her door.
He simply found himself standing in the hallway, pounding heavily on the wood.
She opened the door, worry instantly washing over her face.
“Henrik, you smell…” “I need you,” he rasped, leaning heavily against the doorframe.
“Please, help me.”