Chapter 15 #2
The iron gates stand open, a rare sight that tells me my father received my message. He's expecting us. The knowledge sits like lead in my stomach. Hudson Marek doesn't do anything without calculation, including welcoming home his prodigal son.
I feel Karina's anxiety spike as we drive past the first checkpoint. Guards with assault rifles track our movement, their expressions giving nothing away. To them, I'm still the Alpha's son. The Marek heir coming home at last.
“Who are all these people?” Karina whispers, shrinking into her seat as we pass groups of wolves going about their morning routines. Some stop to watch us, recognition and curiosity flickering across their faces.
“My pack,” I answer, the words feeling foreign on my tongue after so long away.
I guide the car up the winding drive that leads to the main house—a sprawling structure of stone and timber that dominates the highest point of the compound. My father's pride and joy, designed to showcase the Marek power to anyone who visits. The message is clear. We see everything from up here.
“Your father lives there?”
“We all do.” I park near the front steps, killing the engine but making no move to exit.
And all the danger that comes with it.
“It's time,” I say, reaching for the door handle. “Knowing my father, he’s already waiting for me.”
The mountain air hits us like a slap as we exit the car—crisp and thin at this elevation, carrying the scents of pine and wolf and home.
Karina shivers beside me. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her against my side as we ascend the stone steps.
My scent will offer some protection, marking her as mine even to those who can't see the bite on her neck.
The oak doors swing open before we reach them. My father's beta, Gabriel, stands in the entryway, his expression carefully neutral as he takes in our blood-stained appearance.
“Alpha Hudson is waiting in his study.”
No 'welcome home.' No questions about our condition. Just business as usual in the Marek household.
“We need to clean up first.”
Gabriel hesitates, clearly weighing my request against my father's orders. “Alpha Hudson was very specific about—”
“Gabriel.” My voice drops to the register I've used on men before I killed them. “Look at us. We're covered in blood. My mate needs a shower and clean clothes before she meets my father.”
The word has the desired effect. Gabriel stiffens, his focus shifting back to Karina with sharpened interest. “Of course. I'll inform Alpha Hudson you'll join him within the hour.”
“Make it two, and have someone bring a change of clothes for her.”
His jaw tightens, but he inclines his head. “As you wish.”
He steps aside, granting us entry.
I guide Karina through the grand hall, my palm steady at the small of her back.
The marble floors gleam beneath our feet, immaculate despite the predawn hour.
My mother’s influence lingers in every detail—the tasteful artwork, the vases of fresh-cut flowers, the faint polish of lemon that can’t quite smother the deeper scent of wolf.
Karina takes it all in, shoulders taut with the effort of composure. I see the house as she must, not a home, but a fortress, opulent and cold. Compared to this mausoleum, even the cabin’s sparseness feels warm.
“This way,” I say, guiding her toward the sweeping staircase. Pack members pause in their morning routines, nostrils flaring as they register her scent.
“Eyes down,” I command as heads bow in unison.
We reach the second floor, and I guide her down the east wing toward my suite.
My childhood bedroom sits exactly as I left it a year ago—if you can call a space this size a bedroom.
The suite spans nearly a thousand square feet, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the pack's training grounds and a sitting area that could host a small dinner party.
Karina stops just inside the doorway, her mouth falling open as she takes in the king-sized bed, the stone fireplace, the walk-in closet that's larger than her entire apartment back in Eureka.
“This is your room?” she breathes.
“Was.” I close the door behind us, engaging the lock.
She drifts toward the windows, her fingers trailing across surfaces that have been dusted regularly despite my absence. My mother's orders, no doubt. Helena Marek doesn't allow anything in her house to fall into disrepair, even the room of her disappointing son.
“The bathroom's through there,” I tell her, nodding toward the door on the far side of the room. “There should be everything you need.”
She turns to face me, uncertainty written across her features. “What about you?”
“I'll use the guest bath down the hall.” I move toward my dresser, pulling out clothes. “Take your time. My father can wait.”
“Stay.”
The word hangs between us, soft yet unmistakable. I turn to find Karina standing in the middle of my childhood bedroom, arms wrapped around herself, looking somehow smaller amid the grandeur of Marek wealth.
“Please. I don't...I don't want to be alone right now.”
Something in my chest tightens at the vulnerability in her request. After everything she's endured—the attack, the escape, the revelation of who she might be—she's asking for me. Not safety. Not answers. Just me.
“Are you sure?” I ask, already knowing I'll give her anything she asks for. “You've been through hell tonight.”
She nods, a slight tremble in her lower lip betraying her composure. “That's why I need you close...it helps. When you're near, I can breathe.”
I know exactly what she means. When we're apart, it's an ache that nothing can soothe. Together, at least the pain becomes bearable.
“Okay,” I say, setting down the clothes I'd gathered.
Relief washes over her features, and through our connection, I feel the knot of anxiety in her chest loosen slightly. She turns toward the bathroom, then pauses at the threshold.
“I meant...in there.”
My mouth goes dry. The shower. She wants me in the shower with her. Every rational thought in my head blares that this is a terrible idea. I’m barely holding on as it is; seeing her naked under the spray of hot water will shatter what little restraint I have left.
But this isn’t about seduction. It's about trust. About needing me close when the world has tried to tear her apart again.
“I don't think that's wise,” I manage. The last thing I want to do is trigger her fight-or-flight response.
“I'm not asking you to touch me,” she interrupts, color flooding her cheeks. “I just...I only feel safe around you.”
The bathroom is larger than my cabin at the Bellandi compound, featuring all-black marble and chrome, with a walk-in shower that could comfortably fit six people.
I follow Karina inside, keeping my distance as she turns on the water.
Steam fills the space almost immediately, fogging the mirrors and glass shower doors.
She strips her bloody, torn clothes without hesitation, as if the act of baring herself means nothing compared to what she’s endured.
The fabric pools at her feet, forgotten, and she steps into the shower.
Steam rises around her as the spray hits her skin, plastering her dark hair to her back, water racing over every curve.
I shed my clothes quickly, letting the bloodied pile fall beside hers, and move in after her. I keep a measured distance, though every instinct in me strains to close it. “Is this all right?”
She gives a short nod, shoulders easing at my presence.
I reach for the shampoo, working the thick gel into my palms before stepping close enough to touch. “Let me.”
My fingers slide into her damp hair, gentle, careful of the bruised spot where rough hands had pulled her earlier.
Dried blood loosens beneath my touch, spiraling in pink streams down the drain.
She exhales softly, the sound escaping her lips with each slow stroke of my fingers over her scalp.
The quiet, trusting sound slams into me, low and hot, settling hard between my legs.
I force myself to focus on the task—cleaning away the evidence of tonight's violence, washing the fear from her skin.
“Better?” I ask, rinsing the suds from her hair with cupped handfuls of water.
She turns in my arms before I can stop her, and suddenly we're chest to chest, her naked body pressed against mine under the spray. My breath catches as I feel every soft curve, every place where her skin meets mine.
“Karina.” Her name comes out as a warning, a plea. Her hands come up to rest against my chest, fingers splaying over the tattoos that mark me as my father's son. I have to grip the shower wall behind her to keep from crushing her against me.
“I’m done running.” It’s not a plea. It’s a surrender. A declaration. “When the full moon rises...I’m yours.”
The animal inside me roars.
The tension I’ve been holding back shatters in an instant.
My palm slams against the tile beside her head, the wall rattling from the impact.
My body cages hers, warmth radiating between us, slick skin sliding against mine.
My cock throbs where it presses against her stomach, demanding more, merciless.
“You don’t fucking know what you’re offering me, Karina.”
She doesn’t retreat. Not an inch. Her breath stutters, but her chin tips up in reckless defiance. “Then teach me.”
“If you give yourself to an alpha, there’s no taking it back. It’s forever.” My mouth brushes her ear, the words harsh and raw. “I’ll drive my scent so deep into your flesh no wolf will ever dare question who you belong to.”
She shivers—reckless, glorious girl. Her nipples harden against my chest, and her thighs squeeze together like she’s trying to trap the fire I’ve set alight with nothing but words and promise.
“You want that?” I growl, dragging my hand down her body, fingers skimming over the curve of her breast, her waist, her hip. “Want me to ruin you for anyone else? Want to be my good little mate, dripping with me for days?”
She trembles, nodding. Her lips part, but nothing comes, only a strangled gasp when my fingers slip between her legs.
“Fuck,” I rasp, stroking through her slickness. “You’re drenched. And it’s not the damn water, is it?”
Her head shakes, her expression dazed, heavy-lidded. “No. It’s you.”
My free hand seizes her jaw, tilting her head so I can crush my mouth to hers. The kiss is brutal—tongue and teeth, desperation and possession. She whimpers into me, grinding against my hand, chasing every filthy stroke of my fingers.
“I want to feel you fall apart on my hand. Right here. Right now. Before I take you apart in every other way that matters.”
Her hand finds my cock, wrapping around it like instinct, like she’s done it a hundred times. Bold. Certain. Mine. A curse tears from me as she strokes, relentless and filthy.
“That’s it,” I snarl, circling her clit faster now. “Touch me, sweetheart. Use me.”
Her moans spiral higher, body arching, legs shaking. “Damien—”
“Keep your focus on me,” I command. “I want your eyes on me when you break for me.”
Her lips part, chest rising in ragged bursts as she unravels, convulsing around my fingers, a cry ripping from her throat as release slams through her.
I don’t stop. I can’t. Her orgasm fuels mine—her slickness, the grip of her hand on my cock, the sheer surrender in every trembling pulse of her body.
I jerk in her grip, teeth clenched, coming hard across her belly with a ragged growl. My muscles lock, my forehead pressed to hers as I breathe through the flood of need that still simmers under my skin.
Water pours down around us, steam rising, scent of sex and wolf thick between our bodies.
I rest my hands on either side of her head, caging her in place with my body.
“I’m going to make you scream for me, Karina. Loud enough the whole damn pack hears. And when I knot you under the moon, you’ll feel it for days—my teeth in your neck, my cum dripping down your thighs. You won’t need words. They’ll smell it on you.”
She bites her bottom lip, then lets it go slowly as her fingers drift up my chest.
“I want them to know. I want them to see.”
A wicked grin pulls at my mouth as I lean in, pressing a kiss to her throat.
“Good,” I murmur against her skin. “Because there’s no going back now.”