Raine's POV
Sleep refused to come.
I lay in the dark, listening to the heavy silence in the room. But my mind would not quiet.
It kept returning to her.
Aria.
Standing in my study, soaked from the rain, the thin fabric of her tunic clinging to every curve. The way the cold had made her body react—nipples tight and visible beneath the wet cloth. The sight had struck me like a physical blow, heat surging through me so fast I'd barely managed to hide it behind the desk.
That was why I'd snapped at her. Told her to get out. To change.
Not because I was angry.
Because I couldn't bear another second of looking at her like that.
Even after she returned—dry blouse, modest skirt—the image stayed burned behind my eyes. The shape of her. The memory of how she'd looked.
I'd sent her away as soon as the reports were done, retreating behind curt words and cold distance.
But the moment she left, I'd been alone with it.
With the ache.
I'd given in then—hand moving fast and rough, mind lost in the forbidden picture of her.
The image of her flooded back, sharp as a blade. Her tunic clinging to her like a second skin, translucent from the rain, molding to every curve of her breasts, the dark peaks of her nipples straining against the fabric as if begging for touch. The way water had dripped from her hair, trailing down her neck, over the swell of her chest, disappearing into the valley between. Her skin flushed pink from the cold, her lips parted in surprise when she realized I was staring—gods, those lips, full and soft, parted just enough to imagine sliding between them.
I cursed under my breath, but my body betrayed me. My cock was already hard, throbbing against the confines of my trousers, demanding attention I'd denied it for too long. The curse be damned—I couldn't stop the need now. I locked the door, leaning back against it, my hand fumbling with the laces of my pants. I freed myself, my shaft springing out thick and heavy, veins pulsing with the rush of blood. It was almost painful, the way it ached for her—for the woman I couldn't have, shouldn't want.
In my mind, I pulled her back into the room, soaked . I imagined grabbing her by the waist, yanking that wet tunic up and over her head, exposing her to the air. Her breasts would bounce free, nipples hardening further in the chill, begging for my mouth. I'd pin her against the desk, my hands rough on her soft skin, fingers digging into her hips as I ground against her. She'd gasp—yes, like that, breathy and needy—her body arching into mine, slick and ready.
My hand wrapped around my length, stroking from base to tip in a firm, punishing grip. I was rough with myself, imagining it was her—her tight heat clenching around me, her nails raking down my back as I thrust deep. Gods, the way she'd moan my name, "Raine," low and desperate, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer. I'd bury my face in her neck, tasting the rain on her skin, biting down just hard enough to mark her as mine.
Precum beaded at the tip, slicking my palm as I pumped faster, the rhythm building like a storm. In my fantasy, she'd be on her knees next, those full lips wrapped around me, taking me deep, her tongue swirling, eyes locked on mine with that desire. I'd tangle my fingers in her wet hair, guiding her, fucking her mouth until she gagged, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks.
The release hit sharp and sudden—a guttural groan escaping my throat as I spilled over my hand, hot ropes of cum pulsing out in waves. Pleasure ripped through me, white-hot and intense, my body shuddering with the force of it. But it faded too fast, leaving me hollow, unsatisfied. Guilt crashed in like a wave, cold and heavy. What the hell was I doing? She was my wife in name only—a breeder, nothing more. The curse would destroy her if I let this grow. I couldn't—wouldn't—risk it.
I cleaned up quickly, disgust twisting in my gut. But the image of her lingered, taunting me. I wouldn't let it happen again.
That was what I told myself after jerking off, after I'd let it all out, but still, I wanted more.
I'd gone to the storehouse afterward, telling myself it was to inspect the supplies.
A lie.
I'd wanted to see her again. Just to look. Just to be near.
Now, hours later, the same need clawed at me.
My wolf stirred, restless and warning.
She is dangerous.
I know.
The curse will manifest if care is not taken.
I know.
I closed my eyes, jaw clenched.
But the image returned—Aria's body outlined in wet fabric, the flush on her cheeks when she'd realized I was looking, the way she'd lifted her chin in defiance even then.
Heat surged again.
I cursed under my breath.
I masturbated twice that night, fantasizing intensely about Aria's rain-soaked body, but each release only made me feel temporary relief.
When it was over, shame and frustration coiled tighter in my gut.
I couldn't stay in this room any longer.
I threw on a cloak and stepped into the night, needing the cold air to clear my head.
The grounds were quiet, moonlight silvering the paths.
I walked without direction—until I saw them.
Aria and Ivan.
They stood close in a moonlit clearing, his cloak around her shoulders, his hand lingering at her arm.
Laughing softly.
Talking like the rest of the world didn't exist.
My wolf snarled.
A hot, sharp and undeniable feeling sliced through me. I didn't know whether to call it jealousy. I wouldn't call it that.
I stood in the shadows, watching, observing; the way they talked, the way they looked into each others eyes, the way her eyes seem to light up whenever she was around him. She was never like that with me.
I couldn't blame her though, I'd been the one pushing her away.
But still, that gave her no right to go and pursue other affairs with my Beta. She belonged to me. And me alone.
And as for Ivan, it's time I demanded an explanation.
When he emerged alone a few minutes later, heading toward the warriors' quarters, I moved.
I intercepted him in the shadowed corridor near the armory, stepping out from the darkness.
"Ivan."
He stopped, surprise flickering before he bowed his head. "Alpha. You're up late."
I didn't waste words.
"What's going on between you and Aria?"
Ivan's face stayed carefully neutral. "Nothing."
I stepped closer, voice low. "That's what I've been trying to tell myself. Nothing. But the way I've seen you two—the crazy amount of time you spend together, the looks, the touches—it isn't just nothing."
He met my gaze steadily. "We're close. She's new here, going through a lot. I've been helping her settle. Training, talking. That's it."
I searched his face for any crack, any lie. I couldn't see anything. He was hiding something beneath that mask. My gut feels it strongly.
"I would never betray you, Alpha," he said quietly. "You know that."
The words were sincere. Loyal. The same loyalty he'd shown since the day I pulled him from the edge of death as a rogue.
I wanted to believe him.
"I hope so," I said finally.
The words hung heavy in the dim corridor.
Ivan stood still, waiting, his face remained unreadable in the torchlight.
I stepped closer, voice dropping to a low growl that only he would hear.
"Because if I ever catch so much as a hint of you betraying me," I said, "I will never forgive you. And I won't hesitate to turn my back on you. You've been my brother in all but blood, Ivan. My right hand. The one person I've trusted when the curse made trusting anyone else impossible. Don't make me regret it."
His eyes flickered—just a fraction—but he didn't flinch. He seemed sure of what he said.
I held his gaze a moment longer, letting the warning sink in.
Then I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there in the shadows.