Darius

“The quarterly reports are showing promise, but we’ll have to put some additional trackers in place if we want a more accurate estimate,” my assistant drones through the Bluetooth as I park the car in front of the main house.

“Then, get it done,” I say coolly. “I need reports, Thalem, not a rundown of every single thing you can handle on your own.”

“Yes, sir.”

I end the call as I get out of the car. James hurries toward me, and I toss him the keys. “Park this, will you?”

“Yes, Mr. Darius.” As he slides behind the wheel, I remove a pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket. I shake one out before lighting it.

“Has dinner begun?”

“It will start in five minutes,” the butler affirms before glancing at the lit cigarette clenched between my teeth. “Your mother won’t appreciate the smell of that.”

“Stepmother,” I correct him idly, taking a puff before letting out a stream of smoke. “Who’s our surprise guest?” My question immobilizes James with his hand hovering over the key in the ignition.

He sighs. “I’m not allowed to tell you. I’m sorry. Alpha’s orders.”

I roll my eyes. “What about Zion? Is he here?”

James stiffens the way most people do at the mention of illegitimate children. Doesn’t matter that my older brother is the Alpha’s first-born son. “He is busy with other things.”

I snort. “Of course he is. You can go.”

As James drives my car toward the garage on the other side of the house, I drag on my cigarette until my shoulders have relaxed. Shifters don’t typically smoke, but I’ve always liked the smell of it. My stepmother hates it, but she can’t control me like she does her own daughter.

The unbidden thought of the young girl with shy, hazel eyes has my mood worsening. I shake off the image, ignoring my wolf’s soft, broken whine, and finish my cigarette. Staring up at the main house, I feel the desperate urge to turn around and leave. I hate coming here, hate coming into this house that feels empty to me, hate searching in corners for one particular scent that has long since faded.

I toss the cigarette butt on the ground and stomp on it. After taking a deep breath, I head up the front steps.

May as well get this over with.

I push open the front door and step into the foyer. The familiar, oppressive silence of the house surrounds me immediately, but something’s different tonight.

My wolf stirs, restless and curious, as a scent hits me.

It’s perfumed, with floral notes that would normally put me off. Too artificial, too heavy. But underneath it, there’s something else. Something that makes my wolf pace inside my chest, agitated and alert.

Pleasant. The word surfaces unbidden. The aroma is pleasant in a way I can’t explain, in a way that makes me want to breathe deeper, follow it to its source.

Voices drift from the dining room. My father’s deep timbre, my stepmother’s crisp tones, and something else. Someone else.

The mystery guest.

I move down the hallway quickly. The scent intensifies with every step, embracing me, sinking into my lungs. My wolf is fully awake now, prowling beneath my skin with an intensity that’s unsettling.

What the hell?

I reach the dining room and open the door. My father sits at the head of the table, my stepmother to his left. And then, my eyes land on her.

Everything stops.

The word slams into my consciousness with the force of a freight train.

MATE.

No. No, not again. Not now.

But my wolf doesn’t care about logic or timing or the absolute impossibility of what’s happening. He recognizes her instantly, six years of forced distance evaporating in a single heartbeat.

Violet.

She’s here. She’s actually here, sitting at my father’s table, staring at me with those hazel eyes of hers.

She’s not eighteen anymore. Not the girl who kept her head down at dinner, not the girl who carefully measured every word around her mother, not the girl who left the morning after her birthday while I stood at my window and watched her go. She’s a woman now, twenty-four years old and completely transformed. Slender in that simple, navy dress, her hair knotted at the nape of her neck, a few loose strands framing her face.

Beautiful. Devastating. Mine.

The fated mate bond roars back to life between us, destiny blazing with brutal clarity. I can feel it in my chest: the tug that has been dormant for six years, screaming at me now. The pull is magnetic, undeniable, demanding I go to her, touch her, claim her, complete what fate started.

Her scent engulfs me completely, and I realize the flowery perfume is a mask. Underneath it, buried so deep that only a mate could detect it, is the faintest whisper of her real scent. Wolf, yes, but barely. A ghost of what it should be, so suppressed that I almost miss it entirely.

Why is it so weak? Why can I barely detect what should be calling to me like a beacon?

My wolf howls, frantic and desperate. He wants to surge forward, to go to her, to press our face to her throat and breathe her in until we drown in her true scent. Wants to bite, claim, make her ours completely.

I lock my muscles, every fiber of my being fighting to stay still.

But I can’t stop staring.

Her pupils are blown wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hands clutch the table, and she’s trembling. Actually trembling.

And her eyes. God, her eyes.

I see the shock reflected there. Pure, unfiltered shock. And confusion. So much confusion, it’s written across every feature of her face, like she doesn’t understand what’s happening between us, like she doesn’t recognize this pull that’s tearing me apart.

She feels something. I can see it in the way her body responds, in the flush creeping up her throat, in the way she can’t seem to look away from me, either. But the confusion in her expression is stark and undeniable.

The fated bond pulses between us, growing stronger with every second our eyes stay locked. It’s taking everything I have not to move, not to cross the room and touch her, not to give in to the howling need that is tearing me apart from the inside.

Her mother sent her away the day after her eighteenth birthday. The day after I first recognized what she was to me. The day after my world tilted on its axis and I realized my stepsister was destined to be mine.

I’ve spent six years building walls, creating distance, forcing my wolf into submission. Six years of brutal self-control, of denying every instinct, of pretending I didn’t feel the absence of her like a missing limb.

But now, she’s here. Right here. And the attraction is just about uncontrollable.

My stepmother shifts in her seat, her body going rigid. I catch the movement in my peripheral vision because I can’t look away from Violet. Can’t tear my eyes from the way her lips part slightly, from the way her breathing stops as she stares directly at me.

My father says something. His voice is distant, dulled, meaningless.

I’m drowning in her scent, in the fated bond, in the impossibility of this moment.

Finally, my control cracks. If I stay in this room one more second, I’ll do something I can’t take back.

I turn and leave. I storm down the hallway, my footsteps echoing off the marble, my chest heaving as if I just ran a marathon. I reach the stairs and start to climb them. I have to keep putting distance between us because if I don’t, I’ll claim her. Right there in the dining room. In front of my father. In front of her mother.

I’ll complete the bond and ruin everything.

I make it to my old bedroom and stride straight into the bathroom. I don’t bother with the lights, don’t bother undressing. I turn the shower on full blast and step inside, clothes and all. The spray hits me like ice, shocking and brutal. But it does nothing to cool the fire raging through my veins.

I brace my hands against the tile wall, head hanging between my shoulders as cold water streams down my neck, soaking through layers of expensive fabrics. My suit is ruined, but I don’t care. My shoes are soaked through, but I don’t care about that, either. My muscles are cramping from the tension locked in my entire body. My jaw is aching from how hard I’m clenching my teeth.

All I can think about is her.

Violet.

Her scent is burned into my lungs, her image seared into my retinas. Those wide eyes, that flush on her skin, the way her fingers grasped the table like she needed to hold onto it or she’d fall over.

The way she looked at me.

Confused. Shocked. But there was something else there, too, something that makes my blood burn hotter despite this freezing water.

Desire. Raw, unfiltered desire.

She felt it. She felt the pull. But why did she look so confused, like she doesn’t recognize what’s happening between us? The shock, I understand. I felt the same way six years ago when our bond first snapped into place. But that bewilderment, that complete lack of recognition…

My wolf surges against my control, snarling and clawing at the cage I’ve built around him. He wants out. Wants to track her down, find her room, break down the door if necessary. Wants to claim what’s ours, complete the bond that has been gnawing at us for six years.

“No,” I grit out through clenched teeth.

A knock sounds at my bedroom door, just loud enough to hear over the spray of water.

I don’t move. Don’t answer.

Another knock, more insistent this time. “Mr. Darius?”

James. Of course it’s James. “Go away,” I call out, my voice rough.

“Your father is asking for you, sir.”

“Tell him I’m busy.”

A pause. “He says it’s urgent.”

“I don’t care.”

Silence.

I assume James has left. I run my hands through my soaked hair, gripping the strands hard enough to hurt. The physical pain does nothing to ground me. Nothing cuts through the chaos raging in my head.

Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Those hazel eyes, locked on mine, pupils blown wide. That plain dress clinging to curves that weren’t there six years ago. The way her mouth opened like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

The way she looked at me like I was something she couldn’t quite comprehend but desperately wanted to.

My body responds instantly to the memory, heat flooding me despite the cold water. My cock stirs, hardening against the soaked fabric of my pants. I curse under my breath, pressing my forehead against the cold tile again.

This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong.

She’s my stepsister. The quiet girl who used to follow me around the house with those big, trusting eyes. The one who dropped that tray of dishes at the age of fourteen and looked up at me with such mortification that I couldn’t help but kneel beside her and help clean up the mess.

The one who smiled at me like I hung the moon whenever I showed her the smallest kindness.

I remember the first time I saw her. She was small and painfully shy, hiding behind her mother during the introduction dinner. Her hair was longer then, falling past her shoulders in waves. She barely spoke above a whisper all evening, flinching every time her mother’s sharp gaze landed on her.

I felt something change inside me that night. There was suddenly a protective instinct that I couldn’t explain. I wanted to shield her from her mother’s cutting remarks, from the way the other pack members looked at her with obvious contempt.

She was weak, they whispered. Couldn’t shift. Would never shift. What good was a wolf who couldn’t access her animal?

But I saw something else. Resilience in the set of her petite shoulders. Determination in the way she lifted her chin when she thought no one was looking.

Over the next four years, she followed me around like a puppy whenever I was home. At first, I found it amusing. Then, endearing. She would bring me books she thought I’d like, ask questions about pack business with genuine curiosity, laugh at my dry observations about our family’s ridiculous formality.

I protected Violet in small ways. Deflected her mother’s attention when she was in a mood. Made sure the girl had a seat at family dinners even when her mother tried to exclude her. Helped her with homework when she struggled with mathematics.

I liked being the one person who made her feel safe.

And then, on her eighteenth birthday, everything changed.

I went to wish her happy birthday that morning, a small gift tucked under my arm. Some rare book she’d mentioned wanting weeks earlier. I found her in her room, staring out the open window at the estate grounds.

The wind shifted, blew back her hair, and I knew.

The fated bond slammed into me like a tidal wave, instant and undeniable. The protective instinct I’d felt for four years suddenly made perfect sense. My wolf had recognized her from the beginning and had been trying to tell me what she was to me.

My mate. Our mate.

I dropped the gift and fled like a coward.

A week later, when I finally returned home after hiding at my apartment in the city, she was gone. Shipped off to Europe for her studies, her mother said coolly. It was time for Violet to learn independence.

I was relieved. Grateful, even. The distance would make it easier to control this impossible bond. To lock down my wolf and forget that the shy girl with the quiet smiles was destined to be mine.

But forgetting was impossible. I tried. God, I tried. Dated other women, went through the motions of normalcy, attempted to settle down with someone—anyone—who might make me forget. But I couldn’t. My body wouldn’t respond the right way. The moment I’d touch another woman, my wolf would recoil. Wrong. Not her. Not our mate. The attraction never came, no matter how beautiful they were, no matter how compatible we should have been. It was always hollow. Empty. Wrong.

Because none of them were Violet.

And now, she’s back.

I groan, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. My wolf snarls in response, straining against the chains I’ve wrapped around him. He doesn’t care about social taboos or pack politics or the fact that she’s technically family. He only cares that our mate is here, close enough to touch, and we’re denying ourselves.

Denying her.

The water runs cold against my heated skin, but it does nothing. Nothing can touch this burning need that is slowly consuming me.

I force myself to turn off the shower. I stand there in the sudden silence, water dripping off me and pooling at my feet. My clothes cling to my body, heavy and uncomfortable. I peel them off mechanically, dropping the ruined suit in a sodden heap on the tile floor.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My eyes flash gold in the dim light, my wolf too close to the surface.

Get it together. You’re not some teenager who can’t control his instincts.

But my wolf has been chained for six years, denied what’s rightfully ours. Now that she’s here, he wants her. Needs her. Will tear me apart from the inside if I don’t give him what he wants.

I stare at my reflection. “No,” I tell my wolf. “She’s our stepsister. This is taboo. This is wrong.”

My wolf howls in response, a mournful sound that echoes through my bones. He doesn’t care about pack law or human concepts of family. In his mind, she’s ours. Fate made her ours.

“Fate can go to hell,” I mutter.

I wrap a towel around my waist and walk back into the bedroom. The air feels too hot. My skin feels too tight, too constricting, like it doesn’t fit right anymore.

I need to leave. I need to get out of this house before I do something catastrophic.

I move to my closet and pull out some fresh clothes from the stash that I keep here. Dark jeans, a black shirt. Simple. Comfortable. Easy to move in until I finally give my wolf the run he’s demanding.

My father can postpone whatever announcement he planned. I was supposed to stay the night, but that’s not happening now. Not with Violet under the same roof, close enough that I can still catch traces of her scent drifting through the ventilation system.

I’m pulling the shirt over my head when there’s another knock at the door.

“Mr. Darius?”

James again. Did he come back, or has he been out there this whole time?

I yank the door open. The butler takes a step back, his eyes widening slightly at whatever it is he sees in my expression.

“What?” The word comes out harsher than I intend.

“Your father is requesting your presence in his office. Immediately.”

Of course he is. “Tell him I’m leaving.”

“With respect, sir, I don’t think that would be wise.” James looks at me meaningfully. “The Alpha was quite…insistent.”

A muscle ticks in my jaw. Damn it.

“Is dinner over?”

“Yes, sir. Finished about thirty minutes ago.”

Thirty minutes. That means I was probably in that cold shower for a quarter of an hour, and I still feel like I’m burning alive.

“Where’s Violet?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

James’s expression doesn’t change except for a brief flicker in his eyes. “Miss Violet retired to her room after dinner. She seemed unsettled.”

Does she know? Has she told her mother?

“Fine.” I push past James into the hallway. “Let’s get this over with.”

My father’s office is on the second floor, in the west wing. The walk there feels endless, every step taking me farther from where I want to be and closer to a conversation I don’t want to have.

I knock once on the heavy oak door before pushing it open.

My father sits behind his massive desk, papers spread out in front of him. He looks up as I enter, his face unreadable.

“Sit.”

I remain standing. “What do you want?”

His eyes narrow. “I said sit, Darius.”

I drop into the chair across from his desk, sprawling out with deliberate casualness. Anything to try to hide the tension still coiled through every muscle in my body.

“What the hell happened at dinner?” he asks bluntly.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice drops, taking on that alpha edge that makes lesser wolves cower. It doesn’t work on me anymore. “You walked into the dining room, took one look at Violet, and hightailed it out of there as if you’d seen a ghost.”

“I’ve been at the office too long. My wolf is pent up.” The lie comes easily, smoothly. “I needed some air.”

He studies me for a long moment, and I can see him weighing whether to push. Finally, he sighs and leans back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

“Go on a run tonight. You can’t keep your human skin on for this long. It’s not healthy.”

“I know. I will.”

“See that you do.” He shuffles together some papers on his desk, and I think he’s done. That I’m dismissed. But then, he speaks again. “Violet will be staying.”

My body goes rigid. “What?”

“She’s staying. Permanently.”

No. No, no, no.

“Why?” I force the word out through clenched teeth. “I thought her mother didn’t want her here.”

“Lillian was against bringing her back.” He looks at me, exasperated. “But it looks bad for me to have her away for so long. The pack members talk. They wonder why the Alpha’s stepdaughter isn’t part of the pack, why she’s been sent away like some dirty secret.”

“Maybe because she is a dirty secret,” I say coldly. “Have you considered that?”

The words are acid on my tongue. My wolf claws at my chest, furious, betrayed.

Liar. Liar. LIAR. She’s strong. She’s perfect. She’s OURS.

My father’s eyes flash. “Watch yourself.”

I lean forward, gripping the arms of the chair as more cruel words spill out of me, words that slash at my soul. “She can’t shift, Father. She’s weak. Having her here undermines everything we stand for.”

“She’s still pack. Still family.” He holds my gaze. “And I won’t have people questioning my authority or my family’s place in this pack. She stays.”

I want to argue. Want to tell him this is a terrible idea, that having her here will destroy me, that I can’t be around her without wanting things I can never have.

But I can’t say any of that.

“Fine,” I bite out. “She can stay. Just keep her away from me.”

He pauses before saying, “That may be difficult.”

My stomach drops. “What do you mean?”

“Violet will be joining pack headquarters. The Supernatural Affairs Division.”

My head starts to spin. That’s my department. My division. The one I oversee directly.

“No.” I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s already decided.”

“Then undecide it.” I plant my hands on my father’s desk and lean toward him. I realize I’m trembling against the polished wood, so I press down harder to hide it. “She’s too inexperienced. Put her in another department. Marketing. HR. Anywhere else.”

“She has an MBA. She’s more than qualified.”

“I don’t care if she has a PhD. I don’t have time to babysit a woman who can barely function in normal society.”

My wolf howls in fury at my harsh words.

Father’s expression hardens. “Excuse me?”

“You remember what she was like.” I straighten, forcing my voice to stay level even though my control is fracturing. “Clumsy. Shy. Couldn’t get through a family dinner without dropping something or saying the wrong thing. And you want to put her in the most demanding division we have?”

“She was a child then. She’s a woman now.”

“A woman who’s been sheltered in Europe for six years. She has no idea how to navigate pack politics or corporate structure. She’ll be eaten alive.”

“Then teach her.”

The words throw me for a loop. “What?”

“Teach her.” My father leans back in his chair, clearly not about to budge about this. “Show her the ropes. Make sure she does well. She needs to prove herself. If she succeeds in HQ’s most demanding division, no one can question her place in this pack.”

“No,” I say flatly. “Find someone else.”

“I’m not asking, Darius.” His voice drops to that alpha tone again. “This is an order. Violet starts tomorrow. You’ll take her with you to the office. You’ll show her around, introduce her to the team, make sure she’s comfortable.”

“This is insane.”

“This is family.” He stands, matching my height, his presence filling the room. “And you will do as I say.”

“I’m your second-in-command, not her babysitter.”

“You’re my son.” His eyes bore into mine. “And when I give you an order, you follow it. Or have you forgotten how this works?”

I could refuse. Could tell him I won’t do it, consequences be damned. But that would require explaining why. And I can’t do that without revealing the one secret that could destroy everything.

“She likes you,” my father adds, his tone softening slightly. “She’s always felt comfortable around you. Having you training her will make the transition easier.”

My chest twists at his words. Yes, she liked me. She felt comfortable around me once, when she was young and innocent and didn’t understand what my kindness meant. What it could never mean.

“When you’re the alpha,” my father continues, his voice taking on steel, “you can make whatever decisions you want. But while I’m running things, while I’m the one leading this pack, you don’t get to question me. Understood?”

My hands curl into fists at my sides. I have to find a way to refuse, to fight this, to get out of spending time with her.

But I can’t. Not without raising suspicions I can’t afford.

“Fine.” I take a deep breath through my nose. “I’ll bring her to work tomorrow.”

“Good.” He sits down again, already turning his attention back to the papers on his desk.

I turn and walk toward the door before I say something I’ll regret. My hand is on the knob when his voice stops me.

“Darius.”

I don’t turn around. “What?”

“Go on that run tonight. Clear your head. Whatever’s bothering you, deal with it.”

If only it were that simple.

I yank the door open and stop in my tracks.

Standing there is a pale-faced Violet. And judging from the look in her eyes, she heard every single word.

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