The walk to the study was a silent trek through a labyrinth of cold stone and flickering torchlight. Mikhail led the way, his boots clicking with a military precision that seemed to mock the uneven, trembling rhythm of Andrea's own steps. She was dressed in the cream cashmere sweater Galina had provided—it was soft, expensive, and felt like a shroud.
The high-waisted wool trousers were tailored perfectly, but they couldn't hide the way her thighs felt heavy, or the dull, rhythmic pulse deep in her core that reminded her of every second she'd spent on the obsidian table.
"In here," Mikhail said, stopping before a set of mahogany doors even more imposing than the ones to the master suite.
He didn't wait for her to argue. He opened the doors and stepped aside, signaling for her to enter.
The study was a cathedral of old money and dark secrets. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves groaned under the weight of leather-bound volumes, and a fire roared in a massive hearth, but the heat didn't reach the center of the room. A thick cloud of cigar smoke hung in the air, swirling around the four men seated in heavy leather armchairs around Viktor's desk.
Andrea felt the air leave her lungs as she recognized them. These were the men from the dining hall. The men who had seen her in the emerald silk. The men who had heard her scream as Viktor claimed her.
The room went silent the moment she stepped inside.
Viktor was seated behind a desk made of a single slab of ancient oak. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos on his forearms, and his dark brown hair was combed back with a severity that made his blue eyes look like shards of ice. He didn't look up immediately; he was signing a stack of documents, the scratching of his pen the only sound in the room.
The Council members, however, couldn't stop staring.
The younger lieutenant with the shaved head shifted in his seat, his gaze dropping to the cream sweater and the way it clung to Andrea's chest. The lust from the night before was still there, but it was tempered now by a visible, jittery edge of nerves. The older man with the grey beard looked at her with a mixture of contempt and fascination, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the arm of his chair.
"You're late," Viktor said, his voice a low, level rasp that didn't match the predatory intensity of his gaze when he finally looked up.
"I had a scheduling conflict with your head of housekeeping and my own sanity," Andrea snapped, her green eyes flashing as she stood in the center of the room. She felt the weight of the men's stares like a physical pressure on her skin, making the mark on her neck throb. "Is this the 'inspection,' Viktor? Do I need to turn around so they can check my teeth?"
One of the older Council members, a man named Yuri with a face like crumpled parchment, let out a dry, rattling cough. "Pakhan, with all due respect... is it wise to have the human here? We are discussing the border skirmishes with the Volkov-Severny pack. Secrets are not meant for civilian ears."
Viktor leaned back, his chair creaking. He didn't look at Yuri. He looked only at Andrea.
"She is not a 'civilian,'" Viktor said, the word sounding like a growl. "She is the remedy. She is the woman who pulled silver from my side while your 'soldiers' were busy retreating. Her ears hear what I allow them to hear."
Viktor stood up, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the room. He walked around the desk, his movements slow and deliberate, until he was standing directly in front of Andrea.
The scent of him—the pine, the tobacco, and the dark, intoxicating musk of the Alpha—hit her like a wave. Andrea's knees felt weak, her pussy giving a treacherous, involuntary pulse at the sheer proximity of him.
"Come here," he commanded.
"I'm already here, Viktor. Any closer and I'll be in your pockets."
Viktor didn't smile. He reached out, his hand sliding behind her neck, his thumb grazing the edge of the mark he'd left. He pulled her toward him, forcing her to stand between his legs as he leaned against the edge of the desk.
"You look pale, Kotenok," he murmured, his blue eyes searching her face. "Did you not sleep well in my bed?"
The question was a deliberate provocation, intended for the men in the room as much as for her. Yuri's jaw tightened, and the younger lieutenant looked away, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed red.
"The bed was fine. The company was a bit loud," Andrea retorted, her voice trembling only slightly.
Viktor's hand tightened on her neck, his fingers tangling in her dark brown hair. He turned her around, forcing her to face the Council while he stayed behind her, his chest a solid, radiating wall of heat against her back. He draped his arms over her shoulders, his hands resting heavily on her collarbones.
"Look at them, Andrea," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "They think you are a weakness. They think that because I spent my night inside you instead of in the war room, I have grown soft."
He looked at the Council, his blue eyes bleeding into that molten, terrifying gold. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Is that what you think, Yuri?" Viktor asked, his voice a lethal, vibrating threat. "Do you think the Wolf has forgotten how to bite because he has found a mate he prefers to hunt?"
"No, Pakhan," Yuri stammered, his hands shaking as he reached for his cigar. "Of course not. We only... we worry for the stability of the Circle. The men are talking. They say the human is a distraction."
"Then tell them this," Viktor said, his grip on Andrea's shoulders becoming possessive, his thumbs pressing into the soft dip of her throat. "The human is not a distraction. She is the reward. And anyone who thinks they can touch what belongs to me—even with a glance—will find out exactly how much 'distraction' I can afford while I'm ripping out their hearts."
He leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Andrea's shoulder through the cashmere. Andrea let out a tiny, stifled gasp, her back arching against his chest. She wanted to pull away, to scream at him for using her as a prop in his power play, but the "Body Betrayal" was absolute. Her heart was racing, her skin was humming, and the ache between her legs was becoming a desperate, throbbing hunger.
Viktor felt it—he felt the way her pulse jumped under his thumbs, the way her scent changed as she became aroused despite her fury. A slow, dark smirk spread across his lips.
"The meeting is over," Viktor announced, his gaze never leaving the back of Andrea's head. "Get out. Tell the men to prepare for the transition to the winter camp. We leave in three days."
The Council members didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled out of their chairs, avoiding Andrea's eyes as they hurried toward the door. Mikhail followed them, closing the mahogany doors with a soft, final click.
Silence returned to the study, but it wasn't the silence of peace. It was the silence of a predator who had finally isolated his prey.
Viktor turned Andrea around in his arms, his hands sliding down to her hips and pulling her flush against his hard, pulsing cock.
"You did well, Kotenok," he rasped, his eyes still glowing with gold. "Though I think you liked the attention more than you admit."
"I hated every second of it," she hissed, though she didn't pull away as his hand slid under her sweater, his palm hot against the bare skin of her stomach. "You used me to scare them. You treated me like a fucking flag you were waving in their faces."
"I treated you like a Queen," Viktor corrected, his thumb finding the underside of her breast. "And tonight... I think I'll show you exactly what happens to Queens who dare to talk back to their King."
He hoisted her onto the oak desk, the documents and maps scattering to the floor, and Andrea didn't even try to fight him as he reached for the button of her trousers.