The heavy click of the lock on the office door was the sound of a cage swinging shut. The
cacophony of the club vanished, swallowed by an oppressive, unnerving silence. Vincent's office
was a shrine to his own ego: dark wood, animal pelts, and a massive window overlooking the
entire club floor.
He released me and began to prowl, circling me like a wolf examining a new, fascinating kill. "I
want a name," he said, his voice dangerously soft.
"Elise Bell," I lied, my voice trembling just enough to be convincing.
"You lie," he growled. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his hand under my jaw, forcing my
head up. His face was inches from mine. "I felt the bond, little rabbit. And so did he. What
makes you so special that two of the most powerful Alphas in Amaranth would feel the pull?"
He was losing patience. My cover was failing. And then he inhaled.
It was a sharp, sudden intake of breath, his nostrils flaring. His Lycan senses were peeling back
the layers of my scent, dissecting my very essence. I saw the exact moment he found it. The
aggressive posture went utterly still. The growl in his chest died. The blue fire in his eyes was
replaced by a stunned, covetous disbelief. He had expected the scent of a human, or perhaps a
lesser supernatural. He found something else entirely.
He leaned closer, his nose hovering over the pulse point in my neck, his voice a ragged whisper
of pure, avaricious shock.
"That power... it's not human. It's not Fae. It smells of moonlight and shadow... of something
ancient. Something impossible." He pulled back, his eyes wide with a terrifying realization.
"What are you?"