Chapter 4: Gregory
Dark clouds gathered overhead, casting a gloomy shadow. It seemed the very heavens were crying for Evan.
The scream that tore through the forest wasn't one I knew.
Not Evan's.
Never heard him cry that way, never heard him scream when the world had torn apart beneath his feet. In two years of his relentless pursuit, through all his schemes and tricks, I'd never witnessed him break.
The sound ripped through the forest. Not the calculated tears he'd used before when trying to get my attention.
I stood frozen, watching him collapse at the lake's edge. His shoulders shook with sobs. The man who'd spent two years chasing me with single-minded determination looked ready to shatter into pieces.
My hands clenched at my sides. What the hell was wrong with me? I'd thrown him. Actually threw him like he was nothing more than a sack of grain.
The red haze that had taken over when his pheromones hit me was fading, leaving behind the sick realization of what I'd done.
I'd almost killed him.
Like the bastard I was, I'd let my fire burn through my hand when I'd grabbed his neck. Almost burned him alive.
But those pheromones… fuck. He'd never used them before. Not once in two years had Evan let his scent free like that. He'd always kept them masked, controlled, hidden beneath whatever suppressants omegas used in town. Today, they'd slammed into me with overwhelming force.
Night-blooming jasmine. That's what it was—impossibly sweet and dark, like flowers that shouldn't exist in daylight. The scent was so intense it made my head spin, nothing like the gentle floral notes I'd caught from him before when he worked at the flower shop.
And I'd almost fallen for it.
My body had responded before my mind could catch up. Every instinct screamed to claim, to possess, to mark. The alpha in me had roared to life in a way I'd spent years learning to control. Years of war, years of blood on my hands, years of keeping the monster leashed, and he'd nearly undone it all with one wave of that intoxicating scent.
The wet blouse clinging to his chest hadn't helped. I could see everything through that translucent fabric, the peaks of his nipples, the delicate curve of his ribs.
My cock had perked instantly, painfully hard as I imagined ripping that soaked material away and claiming what was mine. The urge to pin him down right there by the lake, to bury myself deep inside his tight heat until he screamed my name instead of whatever madness had overtaken him.
Something was different about his scent today. Stronger than any omega I'd ever encountered, with an edge that made my alpha instincts go haywire.
But that was impossible.
Omegas didn't smell like that. They didn't make alphas like me want to submit.
That's why I could never trust his sweet words. There was more to Evan than he let on, secrets hidden beneath that gentle florist facade.
And worse, much worse, was what I'd discovered months ago when I'd gotten too close during one of his ridiculous schemes.
My mate.
The word alone made my jaw clench. I'd known the moment our scents had mingled that day in the market when he'd "accidentally" fallen into my arms. The bond had slammed into place, burning through every defense I'd built.
I couldn't let him know. Could never let him know.
The Unholy Alpha.
That was what I was. The knight who'd burned too bright, killed too many. The last descendant of the Dragon's blood.
As he sobbed, his head bowed, I saw the vulnerable curve of his neck—my mate.
The thought was broken glass in my mind. And he was staring at his own reflection like he was seeing a ghost.
Red marks marred his pale skin where my heated hand had gripped him. The angry welts stood out like a brand, proof of what I'd done, what I'd almost become. My fire magic had left its mark on him, and the sight made my stomach turn with fresh shame.
Something was wrong. This wasn't another game. The way he'd looked at me, confused and lost, asking about his mother, of all things. The way he'd snapped at me with such raw fury.
Evan had never spoken to me with such crude directness. He'd always been careful with his words, sweet even when I pushed him away.
This had to be his most elaborate scheme yet. Pretending to drown to get my attention, then acting like he didn't know me, releasing those pheromones to scramble my brain.
I'd told myself I wouldn't fall for it when his letter arrived yesterday, begging me to meet him here. One last time, he'd written. One last chance to speak with you.
And like a fool, I'd come.
Two years of this dance. Two years since Evan had arrived in Mossfen, setting up as a florist assistant, always finding excuses to cross my path.
The man screaming at his own reflection was a stranger. I tried to reconcile him with the Evan I knew, the one who had spent two years in this relentless, gentle pursuit.
The memory was a collage of moments: Evan in the town square, his hands dusty with soil from the flower shop, offering me a shy smile that I'd met with a stony glare. Evan at the tavern, somehow knowing I'd be there, with a plate of the honey-roasted boar he'd learned I favored.
Spies didn't look at you like you hung the stars. Spies didn't spend months learning your favorite foods to have them when you passed by.
He fit so well in this village of flower farmers. Too well.
I'd tried everything to make him leave. Cold silence. Harsh words. Even threats. Nothing worked. He just kept coming back, kept smiling that soft smile, kept trying to break through walls I'd built with blood and necessity.
No. I couldn't care anymore. This would be enough for Evan to be out of my life forever.
I moved then, turning my back on the broken figure by the lake. My boots crunched against the forest floor as I walked toward where I'd left my horse. A sharp whistle, and Thunder's black head appeared between the trees, ears pricked forward.
I mounted in one fluid motion, old habits guiding me. For a moment, I allowed myself one last glance at Evan. He was still kneeling by the water's edge, still staring at his reflection with that look of horror I'd never seen before.
Enough. I turned my back.
"Move," I commanded, and Thunder responded instantly, carrying us away from the lake and whatever game Evan was playing this time.
We'd barely cleared the first line of trees when a scent reached me.
I pulled hard on the reins, Thunder snorting in protest as we came to an abrupt halt. My nostrils flared, trying to process what I was sensing. It was sharp, metallic, with an otherworldly tang that made my skin crawl.
Portal magic.
My head whipped around, scanning the forest with trained eyes.
It was impossible.
No one knew where I was.
The last time I smelled that magic, the sky burned for three days. I'd made damn sure of that when I'd fled to this village of flower farmers, putting half a continent between myself and the empire nobody could find me.
But that scent…
I shook my head and urged Thunder forward. Probably just my imagination.