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My heart pounded like a drum against my rib cage as I struggled to remember how I got here. Hadn’t I left this life behind? The fear twisted inside me like a live wire. Had I ever really escaped? Was this some cruel trick of fate? Or worse, a nightmare from which I couldn’t wake?
The memories of last night flooded back in waves, crashing against the walls of my mind. Xavier appearing at the convenience store like a vision, his presence both unwelcomed and intimidating yet alluring. My omega heat, coming on unexpectedly and building within me until it consumed every fiber of my being. Those men on the street, drawn to me like moths to a flame, their intentions clear and terrifying, and Xavier intervening, a force of nature protecting what was his.
I remembered the urgency of my needs and his touch as he brought me here. The heat between us, scorching and primal, as we surrendered to the demands of my biology. His touch had been electric, igniting a fire within me that I thought had long been extinguished. And then Lucian joining us, his lips seeking mine with a tenderness that belied the raw need coursing through our veins.
Through the fog of desire, I vaguely remembered seeing Dominic’s face on the screen of the phone, his intense, piercing gaze like a brand upon my soul, stirring a maelstrom of emotions within me. Then Lucian had taken his turn, worshipping my body with a gentleness that made me want to weep, all while Dominic watched through the digital screen, his presence as commanding as if he were in the room with us.
I looked down at my bare form, the evidence of our passionate reunion scattered across my flesh like crimson blossoms. Instinctively, my arms wrapped around myself, as if to shield me from the onslaught of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.
Fear coiled within my chest, constricting my breath. Fear of the power they held over me, fear of the depth of my own longing. Yet that fear was laced with an undeniable yearning, a craving for the connection only they could provide.
Dominic. The man who could command a room with a single look. The thought of seeing him again made my heart race with a heady mix of trepidation and want. His presence would be my undoing and my salvation, a heaven and a hell that called to the most primal parts of my being.
I threw back the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. Each step felt heavy as if wading through an invisible force that tried to pull me back into a past filled with golden shackles. The penthouse was quiet, too quiet, and every soft creak of wood underfoot seemed amplified in the silence.
I went to stand by the window, peering down at the city below. The people on the streets were mere specks from this height, unaware of the turmoil brewing within these walls. They were free in ways I could only dream of.
The air felt cooler here by the glass, yet it did nothing to soothe the heat of anxiety flushing through me. A part of me wanted to scream, to shatter this illusion and wake up somewhere safe, somewhere familiar. But deep down, a whispering dread suggested that this was no illusion at all.
I wrapped my arms around myself, a feeble attempt at comfort, as memories swirled through my mind of three sets of eyes as deep and imposing as an abyss, a touch that could both promise safety and threaten oblivion, a bond that was meant to be unbreakable.
The sound of hushed voices crept through the silence, pricking at the edge of my solitude. I strained to listen, my breath held captive in my chest. A soft timbre, one that belonged to a maid, filtered through the crack under the door.
“I’m just about to go in and check on Mistress Asa,” she murmured.
My heart skipped a beat, anxiety clawing its way back into my throat. The reply came not from another servant but from a voice that resonated with an authority that was both comforting and unnerving.
“No need, I’ll take care of that,” Lucian’s voice, smooth as velvet yet firm in its intent, left no room for argument.
Panic surged through me like a tidal wave. Face Lucian now? With my thoughts still tangled in knots from last night’s tempest of desire and fear? No, I couldn’t—not yet. Desperation lent speed to my limbs as I scrambled back under the covers, pulling them up to my chin and squeezing my eyes shut. My heart hammered against my ribs as I feigned sleep, willing my breaths to even out into the slow rhythm of slumber.
The door opened with a quiet click, and I sensed him before I heard him move, a presence that filled the room like sunlight chasing away shadows. My skin prickled with awareness as he placed a tray on the bedside table, the clink of porcelain and glass barely registering over the sound of my own pulse thrumming in my ears.
The bed dipped under his weight as he sat beside me, and I fought to keep my body limp, unresponsive. He leaned down, and his lips brushed against my temple, a kiss featherlight yet searing enough to burn through the veil of pretense.
“I wish I could stay with you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “But there’s business I must attend to. Xavier will be back from work this evening.”
Lucian’s proximity sent a jolt through me, his warmth radiating in waves, beckoning me toward the shelter of his arms. The scent of his alpha pheromones enveloped me, beautiful and potent, stirring an ache deep within. It took every ounce of strength not to lean into that intoxicating comfort.
With tremendous effort, I remained still as stone even after hearing his footsteps retreat and the door close softly behind him.
I lay motionless long after Lucian’s departure, the echo of the door closing like the seal of a verdict I wasn’t ready to face. But the gnawing emptiness in my stomach soon became a distraction too persistent to ignore. Tentatively, I opened my eyes and pushed back the covers, sitting up with a cautious glance toward the door. Assured of my solitude, I reached for the tray Lucian had left behind.
The spread was a reminder of a life I’d left, a life where every meal was a carefully crafted experience. There was a crystal glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, its vibrant color promising a burst of flavor. Beside it sat a delicate china plate with a croissant that flaked at the touch, revealing its buttery layers. A small bowl held an assortment of berries, their colors jewellike and glistening with droplets of water. A silver dome covered the main course, and as I lifted it, the aroma of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs mingled with the subtle scent of dill and chives wafted up to greet me.
I allowed myself to savor each bite, remembering how meals like this used to be an everyday occurrence, the richness of flavors I had taken for granted. Now they tasted like distant luxuries. In my sparse apartment, meals were utilitarian, nutrients over indulgence, something I went without more often than not to stretch my meager budget for suppressant pills and rent.
With each forkful, memories flooded back, the sharp contrast between this world and my own. Yet despite the disparity, there was no denying the pleasure that simple act of eating brought me.
After finishing the meal, I rose from bed and headed to the en suite bathroom. The shower’s hiss filled the space as steam curled upward, fogging the mirror. Stepping under the cascade of warm water washed away more than just the physical remnants of last night; it was as if each droplet took with it a sliver of my trepidation.
Dried and wrapped in a plush towel, I browsed through my old wardrobe. My fingers trailed over fabrics until they settled on something familiar, a pair of loose silk pants paired with a soft cotton t-shirt that draped comfortably around my frame.
Emerging from the room felt like stepping onto a stage. The hallway was quiet but not empty. Harris stood at attention near the stairwell, his posture impeccable as always.
“Good morning, Mistress Asa,” he greeted with a slight bow of his head. “It’s good to have you home.”
The warmth in his voice stirred something in me, a sense of belonging that had nothing to do with wealth or status.
