The Thorne mansion was a labyrinth of cold glass, dark mahogany, and secrets that felt like they were breathing in the walls. As we entered the grand foyer, the sound of my wet sneakers hitting the pristine marble floor felt like a series of slaps against the economic status my mother worked so hard to maintain. She was there, standing at the top of the grand, sweeping staircase, her face pale as she saw Killian's hand still possessively gripping my waist.
Killian, dear, shouldn't you be at your internship at the Thorne & Associates law firm?" my mother asked, her voice tight and brittle like dry parchment.
She didn't look at me. To her, I was just a stain on the perfect life she had negotiated for herself.
Killian didn't even look up at her. He kept his eyes on me, his thumb tracing a slow, rhythmic circle against my hip that sent jolts of heat through my damp clothes.
The firm can wait. My sister needs to change before she catches pneumonia, Killian replied.
His voice dripped with a sarcasm that made my mother flinch. He didn't call her 'mother.' He barely acknowledged her existence, his obsessive focus entirely on me.
She can change in the servants' wing, Killian, she whispered, her eyes darting toward Silas's closed study door. You know your father doesn't like,
I don't care what he likes, Killian growled, the sound vibrating through my own body. She's staying with me. He led me up to the third floor, his floor. In the month we had lived here, I had been forbidden from even stepping onto the plush Persian carpet of this hallway. It was off-limits to everyone but the Alpha of the house. The air here felt different, thick with the scent of him: sandalwood, rain, and a primal, masculine musk that made my head spin.
He pushed open the heavy oak doors to his master suite and pulled me inside, clicking the heavy lock behind us. The sound of that bolt sliding home echoed in the silence of the room, sealing us away from the world.
Killian, what are you doing? My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. My breath was shallow, my lungs feeling too small for the tension in the room.
You're freezing, Elara, he said, his voice dropping to that "low roar" that always made my knees feel like they were made of water.
He started unbuttoning his own shirt, his movements slow and deliberate, revealing the hard, tanned planes of his chest and the dark ink of a tattoo that disappeared beneath his waistband.
Take off the sweater, he commanded. Now.
No, I gasped, backing away until I hit the edge of his massive, silk-draped bed. "I... I can go to my own room. I don't belong here."
You belong wherever I put you, he stepped into my space, his heat radiating off him in waves, fighting the chill of my wet skin.
He reached out, his fingers catching the hem of my soaked, heavy wool sweater. I should have pushed him away. I should have screamed. But the mate bond was screaming louder, a primal force that demanded I stay, that I submit to the heat he was offering.
As he slowly pulled the fabric over my head, the cool air hit my damp skin, but it was nothing compared to the scorching intensity of his gaze. I stood there in just my thin lace bra, my imperfections and the curves I had been bullied for now fully exposed to him.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the "scorn," waiting for him to laugh the way Jason and Sarah did.
Look at me, Elara, he whispered.
I shook my head, a tear escaping my closed lids.
I'm fat, Killian. I'm a mess. Just look at me, I sobbed.
I felt his hands, large and warm, cup my face. He forced me to open my eyes. There was no mockery in his expression. His eyes were dark, fiery with a "deep obsession" that felt like it could consume us both.
"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. Those idiots at school... they are blind. They see a girl who doesn't fit their narrow little boxes. I see a queen. I see my mate.
His hand moved down, his palm flat against my stomach, his touch burning like a brand against my skin. I felt a strange tingle where he touched me, a warmth that started to spread through my entire body. It was the first hint of the rare healing ability that ran through my bloodline, though I didn't know it yet. All I knew was that his touch was making the pain of the day vanish.
You really think so? I breathed, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.
I know so, he growled.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck. I let out a soft, broken moan, my head falling back to give him more access. This was forbidden. This was a "sin" according to the laws of the family our parents were trying to build. But as his hands moved lower, tracing the curve of my hip and pulling me flush against his hard frame, I didn't want him to stop.
Killian... I breathed his name like a prayer.
Say it again, he commanded against my skin. Say my name while I make you forget that Jason ever existed. Say it while I claim what is mine.
His lips moved to mine, and the kiss was an explosion. It wasn't soft; it was a battle. It was the Alpha claiming his princess. It was every bit of the "erotic" tension we had been suppressing for weeks finally boiling over. He tasted of bourbon and desire, and I drank him in like a dying woman in a desert. He pushed me back onto the silk sheets, his body hovering over mine. The weight of him was a comfort, a shield against the world that hated me.
I'm going to change everything for you, Elara, he whispered between kisses. By the time I'm done, they won't just stop laughing. They will bow.
I don't want them to bow, I whispered, pulling him closer. I just want to be enough.
You are more than enough, he said, his eyes glowing with a predatory light. You are everything.
Just as his hand moved to the clasp of my bra, a sharp, thunderous knock sounded at the door. We both froze, our breathing heavy and synchronized.
Killian? It's your father. The lawyers are here for the merger meeting. Open this door now.
Killian's jaw tightened, his entire body tensing with a fiery territorial anger. He looked at the door, then back at me. The vulnerability in my eyes seemed to anchor him. He reached down, pulling the silk duvet over my exposed body, protecting me even from the sight of his own father.
Go away, Silas! Killian roared back. "I'm busy."
Killian, don't be difficult, Silas's voice was muffled but stern. Your mother says you brought the Vance girl up there. You know the protocols. She doesn't have the clearance for this floor.
She has my clearance, Killian snapped.
He turned back to me, pressing a hard, lingering kiss to my forehead.
Stay here. Don't move. Don't get dressed, he whispered, his voice a dark promise.
I'll deal with him, and then I'm coming back to finish what we started.
He stood up, adjusted his clothes, and walked to the door. As he opened it just a crack to slip out, I caught a glimpse of Silas Thorne's face. He wasn't just angry; he looked afraid. He was holding a folder marked Confidential: Bloodline Analysis, the same one I had seen earlier.
I lay there in the dark, the scent of Killian all around me, feeling the strong heart in my chest beating with a new purpose. The amazing transformation had already begun, but it wasn't just about my body. It was about my soul.
I was no longer the "Miss Nobody" of Northwood Heights. I was the secret heart of the Thorne empire, and I was beginning to realize that my imperfections were actually the source of a power they were all terrified of. The revenge was coming, and with Killian by my side, I would make them all repent deeply for every tear I had ever shed.