He was leaning against the warehouse wall, still holding my foot in his hand as if it were some delicate plaything. He looked exactly as he had in the council room; menacing, beautiful, and entirely too smug.
"You!" I gasped, trying to yank my leg back. He didn't let go. "What the hell are you doing following me?"
"Following you?" He arched a dark brow, his thumb grazing the skin above my sneaker, sending a spark of heat straight to my core. "I'm hurt, Elowen. I was simply enjoying a midnight stroll in my favorite human city when a very clumsy wolf tried to take my leg off."
"You're a liar," I snapped, finally pulling my foot free when his grip loosened.
I scrambled back, putting distance between us. "You were at the hospital. You saw and followed me!"
"I saw a girl who looked like she was running from a ghost," Jarek said, straightening up and stepping into the circle of light from a flickering streetlamp. He looked down at me, his gaze sweeping over my casual clothes and my messy hair. "Is this the new Goldbane fashion? Or is the perfect husband, Gideon finally making you sleep in the servant's quarters?"
"Don't talk about my husband," I spat, though my wolf was busy doing a victory lap in my head because of his scent.
"Oh, look at those shoulders! I bet he doesn't spend his nights doing 'reports for the council.' He looks like he spends his nights doing… other things." Nyla jumped excitedly.
Shut up, Nyla!
"You're a long way from home, Luna," Jarek's voice grows sterner. He stepped closer, invading my personal space until I could smell the bergamot and the rain on his skin.
"And St. Jude's is a very specific place for a woman who is supposedly 'recovering' from a tragedy."
"It's none of your business why I'm here," I barked, lifting my chin.
The space between us vanished before I could even draw a breath to protest. Jarek's hand snaked around my waist, his broad palm searingly hot even through the layers of my hoodie. He hauled me forward until my chest collided with the rigid planes of his torso.
"Business?"
With his free hand, his thumb traced the line of my cheekbone with a feather-light touch that felt like a trail of liquid fire. "You have no idea, Elowen. Everything about you... every breath you take in that cage, every tear you shed for a man who doesn't deserve you… It's all my business."
I shivered, but I clamped down on the sensation instantly. I was a Goldbane. I did not swoon for rogues, even if they smelled like the best parts of a storm.
"Get your hands off me," I hissed, trying to wedge my arms between us to push him away. It was like trying to shove a skyscraper.
"I know what you're doing. I've heard the stories, Jarek. You don't just 'visit' packs. You dismantle them. You whisper in the ears of the weak, you bankrupt the strong, and you add their ruins to your collection like trophies."
Jarek threw his head back and laughed. It wasn't the mocking, cold laugh of the council room. This time, it was a rich, genuine sound that made Nyla do a literal somersault in my brain.
"Oh, Goddess, his throat muscles when he laughs. Can we keep him? Just for a little bit? We could put a leash on him. A very expensive one." Nyla purred, her tail wagging so hard I felt dizzy.
Focus, you traitor! I snapped at her.
"Speculations, Elowen?" Jarek asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked back down at me. "I didn't take you for a woman who believed in folklore and village tales."
"They aren't lores when the man in front of me is the one who murdered my father!" I shouted, the grief I carried finally giving way to a sharp-edged rage.
I struggled against his grip, but he was a mountain of iron. "You brought that poison! You bragged about it! You killed him as surely as if you'd driven a blade into his heart yourself! That's if you didn't do it anyway!"
Jarek's facial expression didn't change. He just tightened his hold on my waist, pulling me so close I could feel the thrum of his heart against my own.
"I engineered the poison that MIGHT have killed him, Elowen. There is a very distinct, very legal difference. But here is the detail your grieving mind missed: that product hasn't been launched yet. What I showed your 'illustrious' council was a demo. A prototype. A warning of what's coming to the market."
W-what?
I flinched, my hands still pressed against his chest. "A demo?"
"Exactly," he whispered with his face inches from mine. "Which means someone smuggled a batch of my unreleased research out from under my nose. Someone stole from me and sold it to someone in your house. There is a corruption happening in the Ashthorne labs, and I don't take kindly to thieves."
Seriously?
I let out a harsh, disbelieving bark of laughter. "Oh, that's rich! You're complaining about corruption? You? The King of the Black Market? The Sovereign of the Underworld? That's like a shark complaining that the ocean is too salty. You ARE THE corruption, Jarek!"
I was expecting something that would send the calmness of his face but this jerk smiled still, making my stomach do a slow-motion flip. "Perhaps. But even kings have standards. Someone used my masterpiece for a petty domestic execution. They turned my art into a messy murder."
He inclined closer, his nose brushing against mine. The spark hit me… the literal jolt of electricity that traveled from the point of contact all the way down to my toes. My wolf let out a sharp, high-pitched yip.
"We want the same thing, love. I'm looking for the one who stole my goods. You're looking for the one who bought them. Why don't we work together? I have the resources. You have the access."
The sheer audacity of the man was breathtaking. He was asking for a partnership over my father's corpse.
I looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. "Work with you? I'd rather burn this entire pack to the ground than shake your hand."
I swung my hand, overwhelmed by my fury, and aimed for the same cheek I'd branded in the council room.
SLAP—
Except this time, the sound never came.
Jarek caught my wrist mid-swing. Before I could blink, he spun me around and hauled me back against his chest, my arm pinned behind me, his other arm locked across my waist.
"Twice in one month, Elowen?" he thundered against the back of my neck. I could feel the heat of his body through my sweatshirt, the hard lines of his thighs against mine. "You're getting predictable."
"Let go!" I thrashed, but every move I made only served to rub my body against his. The sparks were flying now… tiny, stinging pinpricks of sensation that made my wolf howl with a confusing mixture of triumph and Need.
"MINE! HE TASTES LIKE DANGER. DON'T PUSH HIM OFF, GRAB HIS HAIR!" Nyla screamed.
Nyla, stop! He's the enemy!
"You don't understand, do you?" Jarek didn't let me go; instead, he pressed his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. "This... this fieriness of yours? It's exactly what's dragging me to you. You're the only thing in this stagnant, boring world that actually has a pulse."
That's it! This gutter wolf is crazy!
With a desperate surge of strength fueled by pure panic, I slammed my elbow back into his ribs. It was a solid hit. He let out a muffled grunt of surprise and his grip loosened just enough for me to twist out of his arms. I scrambled back, my chest heaving, and my face reddened.
"You are... you are the most immoral, disgusting, arrogant man I have ever met!" I shouted, my finger shaking as I pointed it at his chest. "I am a married woman! My husband is an Alpha! My father is barely cold in the ground, and you're here... flirting? In an alleyway? Like a common thug?"
Jarek straightened his coat, looking entirely unbothered by the fact that I'd just tried to elbow his lungs into his spine. He just watched me with those storm-blue eyes with a smirk on his lips.
"Flirting?" he repeated softly. "Is that what you call it? I call it a wake-up call. But if you'd rather go back to your 'Alpha' and pretend that the walls aren't closing in, be my guest."
Fool!
"Stay far away from me! Stay away from my pack. Stay away from my life. If I see you again, Jarek Ashthorne, I won't just slap you. I'll make sure the Council finishes what they started and puts a bounty on your head that even your rogues can't ignore."
I didn't wait for his reply. I turned and stormed out of the alley furiously.
"Well, that was a spectacular failure," Nyla grumbled, her mood turning to a sulk. "We didn't see the doctor, we didn't get any information, and we didn't even get to bite the handsome rogue. 0/10 stars for this excursion."
Shut up, I thought, my eyes stinging. Just shut up.
The weight of the conversation sat heavily on my shoulders. A demo. Stolen goods. A spy in the house. The coincidence of the surrogacy flyer, the television segment, and Marisol's sisterly advice suddenly felt a lot less like a sign from the Moon Goddess and a lot more like a baited hook.
I looked back at the hospital, but Greta's car was still in the lot. The mission was dead. I couldn't risk it now, not with Jarek lurking in the shadows and Greta ready to scream my secrets to the world.
"Bad luck," I muttered, pulling my hood lower as I flagged down another taxi. "This whole night was just a series of bad luck."