Anaelia
The word Omega hung in the air like a death sentence.
I wanted to lie. I wanted to laugh and tell him he was delusional from the Grip, that I was just a Null with a strange skin condition. But the way he was looking at me—with a hunger that was half-predatory and half-starving—made the words stick in my throat.
He wasn't just a King looking for a mate. He was a man looking for a reason not to jump off a cliff.
"I don't... I don't know what that word means," I whispered. My voice was small, trembling.
Enzo's eyes darkened. He moved his hand from mine, sliding it up my arm to the nape of my neck. He didn't squeeze, but the weight of his palm was a reminder of how easily he could crush me. He leaned in, his nose grazing the pulse point at my throat.
"Liars don't sweat like this, Anaelia. Liars don't smell like a summer storm." He took a jagged breath, his eyes closing for a second as he inhaled me. "The texts say Omegas were soft. Weak. But you... you feel like a wildfire hidden in a porcelain doll."
"If I am what you say," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs, "then I am a slave. The Council... they'll put me in a cage. They'll use me like a battery to jumpstart the Alphas."
Enzo pulled back, his expression snapping from vulnerable to terrifyingly cold. "The Council will never touch you. I will burn the Dominion to the ground before they lay a finger on your skin."
The possessiveness in his voice should have scared me. It did. But beneath the fear, a tiny, traitorous part of me—the wolf I had spent years poisoning—purred.
Suddenly, a sharp, rhythmic tapping at the window made us both jump.
We were in the North Tower. Sixty feet up.
Enzo moved with the speed of a blur, shoving me behind his back as his claws elongated, the black obsidian nails gleaming in the candlelight. He stepped toward the glass, a low, guttural snarl ripping from his chest.
Outside, clinging to the stone ledge like a spider, was a man.
He didn't look like a guard. He wore a heavy, hooded cloak of deep indigo, and his eyes—even through the glass—shone with a strange, violet light.
"Idris," Enzo growled, the tension in his shoulders easing only a fraction.
Enzo unlatched the heavy window, and the man vaulted inside with a grace that wasn't entirely lupine. He landed silently on the rug, shaking the rain from his hood. When he looked up, his gaze bypassed Enzo entirely and landed on me.
"So," Idris said, his voice like smooth silk over gravel. "The rumors from the kitchens were true. The 'Ghost of the Iron Dominion' has finally decided to haunt the King."
"How did you get past the wards?" Enzo demanded, his voice dangerous.
"The wards are designed to keep out Alphas with bad intentions, Enzo. I am merely a scholar with an inconvenient amount of curiosity," Idris replied. He turned to me, bowing low. It wasn't the mocking bow of a noble; it was the reverent bow of someone standing before a holy relic. "Anaelia. You shouldn't be here. You're the most hunted creature on the planet, and you've walked right into the lion's den."
"I didn't walk in," I snapped, finding my courage. "I was dragged."
"Idris," Enzo warned. "Explain why you're here before I throw you back out that window."
"I'm here because Zora is currently in the West Wing with a Council member named Cal," Idris said, his playfulness vanishing. "They aren't just jealous, Enzo. They're suspicious. They've sent for a Scent-Seeker from the Southern Pack. Someone who can smell through any chemical mask. If that Seeker gets a whiff of her, you won't be able to protect her. Not even with your crown."
My stomach turned to ice. "A Scent-Seeker?"
"They'll be here by dawn," Idris said. He looked at Enzo. "You have six hours to hide the sun, High Alpha. What's your move?"
Enzo turned to me. The gold was back in his eyes, but this time, it was focused. "I can't hide you in this tower. Not if a Seeker is coming."
"Then let me go," I pleaded. "Let me run into the Dead Zone."
"No," Enzo and Idris said at the same time.
"You wouldn't last an hour," Idris added. "But there is a third option. A way to mask her scent that isn't chemical."
He looked at Enzo, then at my neck.
"The Marking," Idris whispered. "If you claim her, Enzo—truly claim her—your Alpha scent will overwhelm hers. To a Seeker, she'll just smell like you. Like your property."
The room went silent.
A Marking was permanent. It was a bite that bound two souls together. It was the very thing I had been running from my entire life. I looked at Enzo—the man who had just saved me, but also the man who terrified me.
"No," I whispered, backing away. "I won't be a mark on a map. I won't belong to anyone."
Enzo looked at me, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. He looked at his own hands, then back at me.
"I won't force you," he said, his voice thick. "But the sun is coming, Anaelia. And Zora doesn't want to own you. She wants to dissect you."