The moment I recognized Alaric and Seren, something inside me snapped. I grabbed everything within reach and hurled it at them, screaming.
Alaric shielded her with his body. Dressed her with gentle hands. Called an escort and sent her away with tender care.
Only then did he look at me.
I was shattered, sobbing, demanding to know why.
He flicked ash from his smoke-herb, utterly unmoved.
"Lyra Ashvale, the devoted-mate act really doesn't suit a heat-crazed Omega like you."
I cried until I retched. "Alaric, you can't do this to me! And why her of all wolves?"
"You know—you know—it was Seren and her mistress mother who drove my mother to take her own life!"
Something flickered in his amber eyes. Then they went blood-red, his wolf surging to the surface.
His foot slammed into the wooden table, sending it crashing into splinters.
"Lyra, so you do know how that feels?"
"I put you on a fucking pedestal. All these years, I held back—never marked you before the ceremony no matter how badly my wolf demanded it, terrified of overwhelming you. And you turned around and shared a heat-den with Kael Duskthorn?"
"What the hell am I to you?"
The image. Of course.