POV: Rian
I couldn't stay in the library.
The leather chair felt like it was made of sandpaper. The air was too still, too quiet. The scent of my own distress—honey and heavy, wet rain—was filling the room, suffocating me.
I stood up, gripping the edge of the desk. My legs felt like they didn't belong to me. They were heavy, trembling with a weakness that terrified me.
Get to the room, I told myself, clutching my stomach as another cramp ripped through me. Get to the room. Lock the door. Wait it out.
I stumbled toward the double doors. My vision blurred at the edges.
I pushed the doors open and spilled out into the marble hallway. It felt miles long. The elevator at the far end seemed to be drifting further away.
"Kael!" I tried to shout for the guard, hoping for a Beta—anyone who wouldn't react to the pheromones flooding my system. But my voice was broken, a desperate whine that barely traveled three feet.
I took a step. Then another.
The elevator doors at the end of the corridor chimed softly.
They slid open.
Varrick stepped out.
He had put his suit jacket back on, though it looked disheveled. He was holding a stack of files, looking down at his phone, his brow furrowed in annoyance as he typed a furious text.
"I don't care what the port authority says," he muttered to himself. "Tell them if the shipment is late, I'm taking their—"
He stopped mid-step.
His head snapped up. His nostrils flared.
It happened in slow motion. The phone slipped from his fingers. It hit the marble floor with a crack that echoed like a gunshot. The files fluttered down around him like white feathers, forgotten.
"Rian," he growled.
The sound wasn't human. It was a vibration that rattled my teeth. It was the sound of a predator recognizing prey.
"Stay back!" I shouted, backing up until my shoulders hit the wall. Tears leaked from my eyes. "Don't come near me!"
Varrick moved faster than I could track.
One second he was by the elevator; the next, he was in front of me. The air around him exploded with the scent of burnt cedar—hot, aggressive, and spicy. It swirled with my scent, creating a intoxicating, dizzying cocktail.
He didn't touch me. He slammed his hands against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in.
His eyes were blown wide, the pupils swallowing the irises until they were black voids. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving as he fought his own instincts.
"You tried to hide it," he accused, his voice rough and stripped of all its usual polish. "You ran from me."
"I thought it was just a fever," I gasped, sliding down the wall as my legs finally gave out.
Varrick followed me down, looming over me on his knees.
"You smell..." He cut himself off, a shudder racking his massive frame. He leaned in, burying his face in the curve of my neck, inhaling sharply. "God. You smell like you're dying to be bred."
The words shattered my resolve.
The heat spiked, turning my blood to lava. Logic evaporated. I didn't see a mob boss anymore. I didn't see the man who held my debt.
I saw Him. The answer. The cure.
I reached out, my trembling hands grabbing the lapels of his jacket. I didn't push him away. I pulled him closer.
"Varrick," I sobbed, arching my back off the floor. "Please. It hurts."
Varrick froze. A muscle in his jaw jumped violently.
"What do you want?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a gravelly purr that vibrated against my chest. "Tell me."
"You," I begged, shame burning through me even as my hips moved instinctively against the cool floor. "Make it stop. Please, Alpha. Knot me."
Varrick let out a sound that was half-groan, half-snarl. His hand moved down, gripping my thigh, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He dragged me into his lap.
For one terrifying, electric second, I thought he was going to do it. I thought he was going to take me right there on the hallway floor, in front of the elevator, surrounded by his dropped files.
He leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin over my scent gland. I bared my neck, surrendering.
Then, he stopped.
He pulled back, his chest heaving. He looked at me—at the glaze in my eyes, the sweat on my brow, the desperate, drug-like need in my expression.
"No," he gritted out.
He grabbed my wrists, pinning them to my chest with one hand to stop me from clawing at him.
"Varrick?" I whimpered, confused. The rejection felt like a physical blow.
"I could take you," he whispered, his voice dark and tempting, trembling with restraint. "I could wreck you right now, Rian. And you would thank me for it."
He stood up, scooping me into his arms as if I weighed nothing.
"But when you wake up," he snarled, walking rapidly down the hall toward the Guest Suite, "you would hate me. And I don't want your submission because of biology. I want it because you gave it to me."
"Don't leave me!" I cried, trashing in his arms. The denial was physical pain. "It burns! Please!"
"I know," he said, kicking open the heavy door of the suite.
He threw me onto the bed. I bounced on the mattress, immediately scrambling to crawl back to him.
"Varrick!"
He stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob. He looked like a man in physical agony. His knuckles were white. He was fighting every instinct he had to slam the door and join me.
"Lock the door, Rian," he ordered, his voice cracking. "Lock it from the inside. And do not open it. Not even if I beg you."
"Please!" I reached for him, tumbling off the bed.
He slammed the door shut.
I heard the heavy click of the lock from the outside.
"Varrick!" I screamed, throwing myself against the wood. I clawed at the panels, sliding down to the floor, drowning in the scent of honey and rain.
"I'm right here," his voice came from the other side of the door. It was low, strained, and close. He was sitting on the floor against the door. "I'm not leaving. But I'm not coming in."
Alone in the dark, my body screaming for the monster on the other side of the wood, I curled into a ball and let the heat take me.