Leonard's POV
He'd meant to stay away.
He'd meant to bury himself in work, to keep to the west wing of Blackwell Manor where her scent couldn't seep under his skin.
But the moment the moon rose, a heat unlike anything he'd known tore through him. His wolf surged, restless, ravenous, and his body moved before his mind could protest.
Now, he was slipping through her open window, the night air clinging to him like sin. The scent hit him first—hers, intoxicating, but tangled with something darker. It was as if his own scent had thickened, multiplied, wrapping around her room like invisible chains.
Her eyes widened, surprise flashing before concern. She stepped closer, as if to check his temperature, but he caught her hand midair. Slowly, deliberately, he brought her fingers to his lips and licked—slow strokes of his tongue tasting the soft skin, savoring her like forbidden fruit.
A shiver ran through her, and his wolf roared with satisfaction.
"Leonard…" she whispered, half-question, half-warning.
"What happened to you? Are you okay?"
His voice came out husky, almost foreign to his own ears. "Not sure, my darling… I want a taste of you tonight. I think I'm in heat."
He lifted her effortlessly, cradling her in his arms as if she weighed nothing, and carried her to the bed. The way her hair spilled over the pillow made his pulse pound harder. His body ached—no, burned—for her.
As he hovered over her, breathing her in, he didn't see the faint shimmer in the far corner of the room.
Didn't hear the soft, silken voice slipping into his mind like poison-laced honey.
That's it, Leonard… don't think, just feel. Take what's yours.
The words were not his own thoughts, but they slid so seamlessly into the hunger already consuming him that he couldn't tell the difference. His mouth found hers, hungry and insistent, and her soft gasp only fed the fire.
Somewhere in the darkness beyond the window, far from her sight, a figure watched—her lips curved in a knowing smile. Her influence coiled tighter around him with every kiss, every touch, feeding his heat, clouding his reason.
And Leonard… Leonard no longer cared if it was madness or magic, so long as he could have her.
Valeria's POV
From the shadowed ridge just beyond the Pack House gardens, Valeria reclined against a gnarled oak, her body wrapped in the night like a second skin. The cool breeze toyed with her silken hair, but the heat in her gaze was fixed on the lit window of Eila's room.
Through the thin veil of magic she had woven, Leonard was hers to guide. His already potent instincts had been sharpened, doubled, pushed to a fever pitch until there was no room for logic—only need. She had laced his mind with whispers since the moment the moon rose, feeding him scraps of imagined scent, a phantom taste of Eila's skin until he could no longer resist.
She could feel him now, every hungry breath he took, every throb of his pulse, as if she were inside his skin.
That's it, my beautiful Beta… you've been too controlled for too long.
Her thoughts purred across the thread between them, her magic curling tighter like silk rope.
Show her what a mate can be. Make her forget to question anything.
Valeria closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing in the heady blend of their mingled scents carried by the wind. With a subtle twist of her fingers, she sent another wave of heat through Leonard's blood, amplifying the craving until it was indistinguishable from his own will.
Inside, she saw him press Eila into the mattress, his mouth claiming hers with a hunger that made even Valeria's lips curl in satisfaction. The girl was confused, hesitant—but not pulling away. Good. Confusion was fertile ground for obedience.
Soon, Valeria thought, watching like a queen overseeing her chessboard, he won't know which desires are his and which are mine. And she… she will only know him as the wildfire that consumes her.
A slow smile spread across her face. The night was young. This was only the first move.