The patrol guards' hands were firm but not rough as they carried me through the forest, my consciousness drifting in and out like a tide. When awareness finally returned fully, I found myself in a bed that was far too soft, surrounded by walls that gleamed with expensive polish.

This wasn't the pack hospital.

I struggled to sit up, my body protesting every movement. The room was enormous—easily three times the size of my entire cottage back home. Rich mahogany furniture dominated the space, and floor-to-ceiling windows revealed manicured gardens that stretched toward the forest. Everything screamed wealth and power.

The Blackthorn Manor. I was in his house.

"You're awake." His voice cut through my assessment like a blade. Asher stood in the doorway, still devastatingly handsome in his crisp white shirt and dark slacks. But those golden eyes that had once made my heart race now felt like shards of ice.

"Let me guess," I said, my voice hoarse but dripping with sarcasm. "You've decided to keep me as a pet? A dying Omega to remind you of your charitable nature?"

His jaw tightened. "You collapsed at our border. My patrol found you unconscious."

"So you brought me to your manor." I laughed, but it came out bitter and broken. "How thoughtful. Tell me, Alpha, do you plan to keep me prisoner here while you fuck your chosen mate in the room next door?"

The words hit their mark. Asher's hands clenched into fists at his sides, and something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "Watch your mouth, Omega."

"Or what?" I pushed myself fully upright, ignoring the way the room spun. "I'm already dying. What more can you do to me?"

For a moment, silence stretched between us like a taut wire. His wolf was there, just beneath the surface—I could sense it calling to Ember's fading presence. But he held it back with iron control.

"You'll stay here," he said finally, his voice cold and authoritative. "Where the pack doctors can monitor your condition."

"How generous." I swung my legs over the side of the bed, pleased when I managed to stand without swaying. "And if I refuse?"

"You'll stay," he repeated, turning toward the door.

"Wait." The word escaped before I could stop it. He paused, his broad shoulders tense. "Why her?"

He didn't turn around. "What?"

"Selene. Why her and not me? Why not the bond the Moon Goddess gave us?" My voice cracked despite my efforts to stay strong. "Why choose someone else over fate itself?"

Now he did turn, and the conflict in his golden eyes was almost enough to make me hope. Almost. "Because I love her," he said, but the words sounded rehearsed. "Fate doesn't dictate my heart, Ivy. I choose my own path."

"Even if that path kills me?"

Something flickered across his face—pain, regret, I couldn't tell. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that cold mask. "You made your choice when you refused to accept the rejection."

The cruelty of it stole my breath. "I was unconscious. I couldn't—"

"The choice is still yours." He headed for the door again. "Accept the rejection, and this ends."

"And if I don't?"

He paused in the doorway, his knuckles white where he gripped the frame. "Then you'll live with the consequences."

The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded like a death knell.

I sank back onto the bed, Ember's weak whimper echoing through my consciousness. The room felt like a gilded cage—beautiful but suffocating. Through the windows, I could see guards patrolling the grounds. There would be no escape this time.

Hours passed in a haze of medication and fitful sleep. When I woke again, it was to the sound of heels clicking on marble floors. The door opened without a knock, and Selene glided in like she owned the place.

Which, I supposed, she did.

"Well, well." Her voice was honey over broken glass. "The little Omega who thinks she can steal my mate."

I struggled to sit up, hating how weak I felt in her presence. "I'm not trying to steal anything. Your mate made his choice very clear."

Selene's laugh was like wind chimes in a storm—beautiful and sharp. "Oh, darling. You really don't understand, do you?" She perched on the edge of my bed uninvited, her perfect blonde hair catching the light. "Asher is mine. Has been for two years. What we have is real—built on love, not some primitive supernatural compulsion."

"The mate bond isn't primitive," I said weakly. "It's sacred."

"Sacred?" She tilted her head, studying me like I was an interesting insect. "You're dying because of this 'sacred' bond. How divine."

The casual cruelty in her voice made my blood run cold. This wasn't just jealousy or possessiveness. There was something genuinely vicious in her ice-blue eyes, something that enjoyed my pain.

"You know what I think?" she continued, standing and smoothing down her designer dress. "I think you should do everyone a favor and accept the rejection. Put yourself out of your misery. It would be so much more... dignified."

"Get out." The words came out as a growl, Ember stirring weakly in response to the threat.

Selene's smile widened. "This is my home, little wolf. You're the guest here. A temporary one, I hope."

She headed for the door, then paused. "Oh, and Ivy? The full moon is in three days. I do hope you're prepared for what's coming."

The door closed behind her, leaving me alone with the terrible knowledge of what she meant. The heat cycle. The first one since the rejection, and according to Dr. Helena, it would be the worst I'd ever experienced.

As if summoned by my thoughts, a wave of heat washed over me. Not the supernatural heat of the approaching cycle, but something more immediate—fever, restlessness, a deep ache that started in my bones and radiated outward.

I pressed my hands to my cheeks, feeling the flush there. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive. Every nerve ending seemed to be waking up, preparing for the torment to come.

Ember stirred more strongly than she had in days, her presence suddenly urgent. "Mate," she whispered weakly. "Need mate."

"No," I told her firmly. "He chose someone else. We have to accept that."

But even as I said the words, I could feel my body beginning its betrayal. The early symptoms were starting—the restlessness, the fever, the overwhelming need that would soon consume every rational thought.

Three days until the full moon. Three days until I would be reduced to a creature of pure need, broadcasting my desperation to the man who had called me a mistake.

I curled up on the luxurious bed, pulling the silk sheets around me like armor. But I knew they wouldn't protect me from what was coming. Nothing could.

The full moon hung like a silver coin against the velvet sky, its light streaming through the manor's windows with an intensity that made my skin crawl. I could feel it calling to something primal deep within me, something that had been building for three days like a storm gathering strength.

Then it hit.

The heat slammed into me with the force of a freight train, ripping through my body like liquid fire. I doubled over on the bed, gasping as waves of burning need crashed over me. Every nerve ending screamed to life, every cell in my body suddenly, desperately aware of what it craved.

Him.

"No," I whispered through gritted teeth, pressing my palms against my temples as if I could somehow force the madness back. But it was useless. The supernatural heat was beyond anything I'd ever experienced—beyond pain, beyond reason, beyond my ability to control.

Ember stirred weakly in my consciousness, her voice a desperate whimper. "Mate. Need mate. Alpha."

"He rejected us," I reminded her, but my voice cracked as another wave of heat rolled through me. My skin felt like it was burning from the inside out, and the silk nightgown I wore might as well have been made of sandpaper.

I stumbled to my feet, yanking the fabric over my head and tossing it aside. The cool air should have provided relief, but instead it only seemed to intensify the fire raging through my veins. My reflection in the mirror showed a stranger—flushed skin gleaming with perspiration, eyes dilated with need, lips parted as I panted like a wounded animal.

The scent hit me then—my own pheromones flooding the room with an intensity that made me dizzy. It was sweet and musky, laced with desperation and raw feminine need. Even I could smell how potent it was, how it seemed to seep into every surface, every breath of air.

If I could smell it this strongly, then he...

"Alpha," I moaned, the word escaping before I could stop it. "Please..."

I collapsed back onto the bed, my body writhing against the silk sheets as the heat consumed me. Every instinct screamed for relief, for the one person who could end this torment. My hands shook as I pressed them against my burning skin, but nothing helped. Nothing could help except—

"No," I sobbed, even as my treacherous body arched with need. "I won't beg. I won't..."

But the heat didn't care about my pride. It rolled through me in relentless waves, each one stronger than the last, until I was nothing but sensation and desperate, clawing need.

Three floors down in his office, Asher sat behind his mahogany desk, trying to focus on pack finances while Selene lounged in the leather chair across from him. The numbers on the computer screen blurred together as he rubbed his temples, fighting off a headache that had been building all evening.

"You're distracted," Selene observed, her voice carrying that subtle edge it always had when she sensed competition. "Is it the Omega?"

"It's nothing," he replied curtly, but even as he said it, something shifted in the air. A scent, faint but unmistakable, drifted through the manor's ventilation system.

Sweet. Desperate. Female.

His wolf surged to attention with violent intensity, nearly knocking him from his chair. Every instinct roared to life at once—protect, claim, mate. The carefully constructed walls he'd built around his self-control crumbled like sand.

"Fuck," he breathed, his hands gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles went white.

The scent grew stronger, more intoxicating with each passing second. It wrapped around him like silk chains, pulling at something fundamental in his chest. His wolf was going mad, clawing at his consciousness with single-minded determination.

"Go to her. She needs us. She's in pain."

"Asher?" Selene's voice seemed to come from very far away. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't answer. Couldn't think. The scent was everything now—filling his lungs, flooding his bloodstream, overriding every rational thought. His body responded with embarrassing swiftness, heat pooling low in his belly as his wolf demanded he follow the trail to its source.

"It's her, isn't it?" Selene's tone sharpened to a blade. "She's in heat."

Asher shot to his feet, the chair clattering backward. "I need to check on her."

"Let the doctor do it!" Selene stood as well, moving to block his path to the door. "You don't need to—"

"She's in pain," he growled, his voice dropping to an Alpha's command tone that made Selene step back involuntarily. "I can feel it."

And he could. Through the damaged bond, he could sense her agony, her desperate need, the way her body burned for relief only he could provide. It was torture, pure and simple, and every second he stood here talking was another second she suffered.

"Asher, please." Selene's voice took on a pleading quality. "Think about what you're doing. You rejected her. You chose me."

But he was already moving, brushing past her with single-minded determination. The scent grew stronger as he climbed the stairs, each step bringing him closer to the source of his torment. His wolf was practically feral now, demanding he run, claim, mark—anything to end their mate's suffering.

By the time he reached her door, his hands were shaking.

He pressed his palm against the wood, feeling the heat radiating from the other side. Her scent was overwhelming here, so thick and potent it made his head spin. He could hear her—soft whimpers and gasps that went straight to his groin.

"Ivy?" His voice was hoarse.

The sounds stopped abruptly. Then, barely a whisper: "Alpha?"

The word nearly brought him to his knees. He turned the handle without conscious thought, stepping into a room that had become a furnace of need and desperation.

She was on the bed, her body gleaming with perspiration, wearing nothing but the moonlight streaming through the windows. Her hair was a wild tangle around her shoulders, and her green eyes were fever-bright as they locked onto his.

"You came," she breathed, and the wonder in her voice nearly broke him.

"I shouldn't be here," he said, but his feet carried him closer anyway. "I should leave."

"Don't." She struggled to sit up, her movements graceful despite her obvious distress. "Please don't leave me like this."

Her scent hit him full force, and he actually staggered. Every instinct screamed at him to go to her, to ease her suffering, to claim what was his by right of the Moon Goddess herself.

"It hurts," she whispered, and there were tears tracking down her flushed cheeks. "I need... I need you."

She rose from the bed on unsteady legs, moving toward him with trembling hands outstretched. The moonlight painted her skin silver, highlighting every curve, every tremor of need that wracked her frame.

"Please," she breathed, reaching for him. "I can't... I can't take it anymore."

When her burning skin made contact with his, Asher's world exploded into sensation. The touch was electric, sending shockwaves through his entire system. His wolf roared in triumph, finally, finally touching their mate.

But it wasn't enough. Would never be enough until he marked her, claimed her, made her his in every way that mattered.

She pressed closer, her soft curves molding against his hard frame, and he could feel her heart racing against his chest. Her scent surrounded him completely now, drowning him in need and want and the primal demand to mate.

"Ivy," he groaned, his hands coming up to frame her face. "We can't. I can't—"

"You can," she whispered against his lips. "You're the only one who can make it stop."

His control snapped like a rubber band stretched too far. He was moving before conscious thought caught up, backing away from her with desperate, jerky movements.

"No," he said, more to himself than to her. "No, I won't do this."

He stumbled toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and immediately turning on the cold water. The shock of it against his overheated skin was brutal, but necessary. He stood under the spray fully clothed, gasping as the icy water tried to cool the fire raging through his veins.

But even through the closed door, he could still hear her—soft sobs of frustration and need that tore at his chest like claws.

His wolf was going insane, clawing at his consciousness, demanding he return to their mate and end her suffering. But he couldn't. He'd made his choice.

Hadn't he?

The sound of the shower running was like a taunt, each droplet hitting the tiles a reminder that he was mere feet away while I burned alive. My skin felt like it was crawling with electricity, every nerve ending screaming for relief that only he could provide.

I pressed my palms against the bathroom door, feeling the cool wood against my fevered skin. Through the thin barrier, I could hear his ragged breathing, the way he cursed under his breath as the cold water failed to wash away what we both felt.

"Asher," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the spray of water.

The shower stopped abruptly.

I knew I should walk away. Knew I should preserve what little dignity I had left and retreat to the bed, curl up in agony, and wait for this torment to pass. But the heat was beyond reason now, beyond pride, beyond everything except the desperate need clawing at my insides.

My hand found the door handle.

The bathroom was thick with steam when I stepped inside, the air heavy and warm against my burning skin. Asher stood with his back to me, his shirt clinging to his broad shoulders, water dripping from his dark hair. Even soaked and shivering, he was magnificent—every line of his body calling to something primal in my core.

"You shouldn't be here," he said without turning around, but his voice was rough with want.

"Neither should you," I replied, moving closer. "Yet here we are."

He spun to face me then, his golden eyes wild with the same desperate hunger that consumed me. Water droplets clung to his skin, and I could see the evidence of his arousal despite the cold shower, despite his attempts to deny what we both felt.

"Ivy, please." His voice cracked on my name. "Don't make this harder than it already is."

"Harder?" I laughed, but it came out as a sob. "You think this could possibly be harder? I'm dying, Asher. Every second you deny this bond, I'm dying."

I reached for him, my fingers trailing along his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed under my touch. His skin was cold from the water, but beneath it, I could feel the fire that matched my own.

"I can smell how much you want me," I whispered, pressing closer until our bodies were nearly touching. "Your wolf is going crazy, isn't he? Fighting against your stubborn human pride?"

Asher's hands came up to grip my shoulders, but instead of pushing me away, his fingers dug into my skin like he was drowning and I was his lifeline.

"This is wrong," he breathed, but his head was already lowering toward mine.

"This is fate," I corrected, rising on my toes to close the distance between us.

The kiss was explosive—desperate and hungry and full of three days' worth of denied need. His mouth moved against mine with bruising intensity, his hands tangling in my wet hair as he backed me against the marble wall. The cold stone against my heated skin made me gasp, and he swallowed the sound, his tongue claiming my mouth like he was starving.

I could feel his wolf rising to the surface, could sense the moment his careful control began to crack. His hands roamed my body with increasing urgency, mapping every curve, every sensitive spot that made me arch against him.

"Mark me," I gasped against his lips, tilting my head to expose the curve of my neck. "Please, Asher. End this torture."

His mouth found the spot where my neck met my shoulder, and I felt his canines elongate, pressing against my skin. The sensation sent lightning through my veins, and I knew—knew—that he was going to do it. Going to claim me as his mate and end this nightmare once and for all.

"Yes," I breathed, my hands fisting in his wet shirt. "Please, Alpha. Make me yours."

His teeth grazed my skin, and I felt the moment he began to bite down—

"ASHER!"

Selene's voice cut through the steamy air like a blade, shattering the moment into a thousand pieces. Asher jerked away from me so violently I nearly fell, his eyes wide with shock and something that might have been relief.

She stood in the doorway, her perfect hair disheveled, her ice-blue eyes blazing with fury. For a moment, the three of us formed a frozen tableau—me pressed against the wall in nothing but moonlight and steam, Asher looking like he'd been caught committing murder, and Selene radiating rage like a nuclear reactor.

"You were going to mark her," she said, her voice deadly quiet. "You were actually going to mark that pathetic Omega."

The words hit me like physical blows. Pathetic. That's what she saw when she looked at me—not a woman dying for love, not someone worthy of compassion, but something pathetic and beneath her notice.

The heat that had been driving me to madness suddenly felt like shame, burning through my veins and pooling in my cheeks. I tried to cover myself, tried to find some scrap of dignity in this humiliating scene, but there was nowhere to hide.

"Selene, I—" Asher began, but she cut him off with a sound of pure rage.

"Don't." Her hand cracked across his face with a sound like a gunshot, the force of it snapping his head to the side. "Don't you dare try to explain this away."

I collapsed against the wall, my legs giving out as the reality of what had almost happened—and what had been stolen from me—crashed over me in waves. The heat was still there, still burning through my system, but now it was mixed with humiliation so intense I thought I might vomit.

"Two years," Selene snarled, advancing on Asher like a predator. "Two years I've given you, and this is how you repay me? By betraying me with some desperate little Omega who throws herself at you?"

"It's not—" Asher started, but she slapped him again, harder this time.

"I trusted you!" she screamed. "I believed you when you said you chose me over fate! But here you are, ready to throw everything away for a few minutes with your precious mate!"

The venom in her voice when she said 'mate' made it sound like the filthiest curse imaginable. I wrapped my arms around myself, shaking not from cold but from the complete devastation of having hope ripped away at the last possible second.

"Guards!" Asher's voice boomed through the manor, the Alpha command echoing off the marble walls. "Guards to the third floor, now!"

Within seconds, heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs. Two massive men appeared in the doorway, their eyes carefully averted from my naked form.

"Lock her room," Asher ordered, his voice cold as winter stone. "No male is to go near her. No one enters without my express permission."

"No," I whispered, the word torn from my throat like a sob. "Please, don't do this."

But the guards were already moving, lifting me from the floor with professional efficiency. I struggled weakly, but the heat had sapped all my strength, leaving me as helpless as a newborn.

"You're killing me!" I cried as they carried me toward the door. "Just let me die! Please, just let me die instead of torturing me like this!"

Asher's face was a mask of stone, but I saw his hands clench into fists at his sides. "Take her to her room. Now."

As the guards carried me away, I heard Selene's voice, cold and calculating: "If you love me—if you truly choose me over this supernatural compulsion—you'll complete the rejection at the next full moon. End this once and for all."

The last thing I saw before the door slammed shut was Asher's face, conflict warring in his golden eyes as he stared after me. But he didn't follow. Didn't stop them.

He just stood there, water still dripping from his hair, and let them lock me away like the pathetic creature Selene believed me to be.

The click of the lock was the sound of my death sentence being signed.