The air in the study felt as if it had been sucked out, replaced by Silas's overwhelming aura. He was so close that Ava could feel the radiant heat coming off his body—the literal fire of an Alpha's metabolism.
"You're trembling," Silas noted. His voice wasn't sympathetic; it was the observation of a scientist watching a moth struggle in a spider's web.
"It's cold outside, Alpha. I'm soaked to the bone," Ava lied, her voice breathless. She forced herself to stay still as his gaze swept over her, lingering a second too long on the heavy fabric of her oversized trench coat.
Silas didn't comment on the lie. Instead, he walked to a side table and poured two fingers of amber liquid into a crystal glass. He didn't offer her any. He downed it in one go, his throat muscles moving rhythmically.
"The Council vote is in three months," Silas began, pacing the room like a caged panther. "My enemies are whispering that a leader without a Luna is a leader without a future. They want a family man, a stable Alpha. They want a bloodline."
At the word bloodline, Ava's heart gave a violent thud. She prayed he couldn't hear the erratic rhythm.
"I need a woman who can play the part," Silas continued, his grey eyes flashing. "She must be elegant in the ballroom and fierce at the borders. She must look at me as if I am her sun and moon, even if she's secretly dreaming of plunging a silver dagger into my heart."
He stopped in front of her again, tilting her chin up with one cold finger. "Can you do that, Ava? Can you lie to the world every single day?"
"I've been surviving on lies for six months, Alpha. One more won't kill me," she snapped, a spark of her old fire returning.
Silas chuckled, a dark, dry sound. "Good. Because if the Council realizes you're a rogue without a pack's blessing, they'll have your head. And if I find out you're using me for something more than just revenge…" He leaned in, his nose brushing the sensitive skin of her neck. He inhaled deeply, and Ava froze.
He stayed there for a long moment, his breath hot against her skin. "You smell… different," he whispered, his voice dropping to a gravelly pitch. "Sweet. Like milk and honey buried under the scent of rain. Why?"
Ava's blood ran cold. She knew what that scent was—the hormonal shift of a pregnant wolf-shifter, even one as weak as her. "I… I've been staying in the meadows. The flowers…"
Silas pulled back, his eyes narrowing. He didn't look convinced, but he had a war to win, and she was the only weapon that had walked through his door.
He grabbed a fountain pen from his desk and slid the contract toward her. "Clause seven," he pointed out. "'The parties shall share a residence and, when necessary, a bed to maintain the illusion of a mated bond.' There will be no actual intimacy unless I deem it necessary for the act. Do you understand?"
Ava swallowed hard. Sharing a bed with a predator like Silas was a death sentence for her secret. But what choice did she have? The man hunting her—the father of her child—would be at the Council meeting. Without Silas, she was a dead woman walking.
"I understand," she said, her voice firm.
She picked up the pen. The metal was cold. As she scrawled her name—Ava Laurent—next to his bold, aggressive signature, she felt a phantom weight settle around her neck. A collar.
"Welcome home, Luna," Silas said, though there was no welcome in his eyes. He stepped toward her, suddenly gripping her waist and pulling her flush against his hard chest.
Ava gasped, her hands landing on his shoulders to steady herself.
"Rule number one," Silas growled, his hand splaying across the small of her back, dangerously close to the curve of her hips. "From this moment on, you belong to the Blackwood Pack. You don't go anywhere without my permission. You don't speak to anyone without my leave. And Ava?"
She looked up at him, trapped in his stormy gaze.
"If I ever find out who gave you that look in your eyes—the one that says you're protecting something—I'll tear them apart. No one keeps secrets from the Alpha."
He let her go so abruptly she stumbled. "The maid will show you to your room. Burn those rags. Tomorrow, we show the world my new mate."
As Ava followed the silent guard out of the room, she didn't look back. She had her protection. She had her contract. But as she touched her stomach through the fabric of her coat, she realized she hadn't just signed a deal.
She had moved from one cage into another—and this one was guarded by a monster who was starting to like the scent of his prisoner.