The bass throbbed like a second heartbeat in Elara's chest as she stood frozen beneath the strobe lights of Vein. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the crowded nightclub narrowed to a tunnel of shadow and flame, all leading to him.
The man in the tailored black suit at the back of the lounge didn't move a muscle, not even a blink. He just stared at her as if he'd been waiting centuries for her to walk in, as if her arrival was the final move in a game he'd started long before she was born.
Her skin prickled, not with fear, but with something far more dangerous recognition. Elara had never seen him before, and yet some primal part of her screamed that she knew him. Not his face, not his name, but something beneath his skin. Something she wasn't supposed to remember. She tried to look away, to shake the feeling off like a bad dream, but her body betrayed her.
Her legs moved without her permission, carrying her through the heat and music like she was being pulled by invisible strings.
He didn't smile as she approached. Didn't offer a greeting. His eyes were sharp and wolf-like an unnatural steel blue, rimmed with gold.
They bored into her like he was cataloging her every flaw, every lie she'd ever told herself. The lounge around him was guarded. Two men in dark shirts stood flanking the velvet ropes, and when she stepped forward, they moved, just enough to show they were watching. But then the man raised a single finger. A slight twitch. The guards froze, and the ropes opened like a mouth waiting to swallow her whole.
She stepped through and into a quieter world.
The music dulled behind thick velvet curtains, and the scent of cologne, leather, and something more feral hit her like a drug. He was seated in a deep booth lined with black velvet, one leg crossed lazily over the other, a crystal glass of something amber in his hand. He looked expensive. Not just in the way his suit fit his broad shoulders or the subtle glint of his cufflinks but in the way he held the air around him. Like gravity bent toward him. Like the world had learned long ago not to disobey him.
"You're late," he said, voice low, a quiet rasp that sent a shiver down her spine.
Elara's brows furrowed. "I don't know you."
"You will."
She blinked, trying to muster a sarcastic reply, but her throat was dry. "Who the hell are you?"
He leaned forward, setting his drink down on the table between them, and for a moment, she caught a glimpse of the darkness behind his irises—something monstrous, restrained but barely. "Kade Strathmore."
The name slammed into her like a truck. Kade Strathmore, the billionaire media ghost, the recluse with whispers of blood and corruption trailing behind every acquisition he touched. Rumors followed him like smoke: that he owned not just companies, but cities. That he made people disappear. That no woman ever survived his love for long. Elara took a step back, instinct prickling again. Every cell in her body told her to run.
But she didn't.
Something inside her refused to move.
"I'm not for sale," she said coldly.
A glimmer of amusement flickered at the corner of his mouth. "Good. I don't buy what's already mine."
Her heart stuttered. "Excuse me?"
"You felt it," he said softly, almost gently, as if trying not to scare her. "Don't lie to yourself. The pull. The ache in your bones. The mark under your skin." He stood, and she realized just how tall he was well over six feet, his body honed like a weapon. His presence wrapped around her, too much and too close. He reached out, slowly, and brushed his fingers just under her ribcage. She flinched, but it wasn't pain that jolted through her; it was heat. Her birthmark, the crescent she'd had since childhood, burned under his touch like it recognized him.
She slapped his hand away, heart pounding. "What the hell are you?"
His eyes glowed then just for a second. Not a reflection. A real, impossible glow. "Not human," he said simply.
She stared at him, breath catching. "You're insane."
"Maybe." He stepped back, giving her space, but it didn't help. The room was suddenly too small. "Or maybe you've just been lied to your entire life."
"By whom? My parents are dead. I grew up in foster care."
"And who kept your mark hidden?" he asked. "Who taught you to ignore the voice in your head when the moon is full? You think all those fevers, those dreams, those bursts of strength were just... glitches?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do."
The certainty in his voice cracked something in her chest. She hated it. Hated that he was right, that there had always been something wrong with her, something more. She'd spent her life running from it. Denying it. Meds, therapy, discipline. But it always came back. The fire. The need. The howl beneath her skin.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered.
His expression shifted, the teasing edge vanishing. "I want to break the curse."
Elara shook her head. "What curse?"
He hesitated. For a moment, he looked almost human. Tired. Haunted. "A hundred years ago, a witch cursed my bloodline. Said that every alpha born from me would lose their mate. That our bond would rot into madness and violence. Death. And every generation since... it's been true. Every time we find the one, we destroy them."
"And I'm supposed to be... what? Your mate?" Her laugh was bitter. "Sounds more like a death sentence."
"I didn't say I wanted you."
That stung. Stupidly. "Then why bring me here?"
"Because fate did." He stepped closer again, and this time, she didn't move away. "Because your mark is the counterspell. You were born the night the curse reached its peak. You're the only one who might be able to break it. But only if you're willing."
Elara stared at him, her mind racing. It was too much. Too fast. And yet, she felt it. A tether between them. Ancient. Feral. She wasn't afraid of him, not really. She was afraid of what she wanted. Of how badly her body responded to his voice, his scent and his nearness.
"What if I say no?" she asked.
He looked down at her, and this time, his voice was velvet over a blade. "Then I'll have to kill you."
The air between them crackled. The tension turned electric, dangerous. And beneath it, something darker pulsed with desire, doom and fate.
Elara didn't blink. "Try."
And for the first time, Kade Strathmore smiled.