CHAPTER 1 – The Betrayal
I'd been smiling all morning.
The scent of pancakes and coffee lingered in my car as I drove over to Roland's apartment, humming to myself .
It was supposed to be our first Halloween together. He'd joked last night about a surprise costume ready for me, something that would make the whole pack talk about. I'd imagined us dancing together, his arms around me, everyone finally seeing that Roland and I were real.
Balancing the tray of breakfast, I knocked twice on his door.
Then I remembered he said he'd be out this morning and I just let myself in the way.
He'd given me a spare key months ago telling me that I didn't need permission to come home.
Home. The word held a different meaning now.
A place I could finally call mine.
I walked through the hallway of his house.
His apartment smelled like cedar and his favorite cologne, but the music playing was too loud for the morning.
A low, rhythmic sound floated from the bedroom.
Then came the moan.
My body froze, the paper cup trembling in my hand.
No. No, that wasn't—
Another moan and it was clearer this time erasing any hope I had.
"Roland…" A voice called out.
Tessa.
My best friend's voice.
The tray in my hands hit the floor with a crash, syrup splattering the tiles.
The bedroom door wasn't locked and I pushed it open.
Roland was there—naked and tangled in white sheets while Tessa's hands were on him, her head thrown back in ecstasy.
They both looked up at the same time, their faces draining of color.
For a second, no one spoke.
Then Tessa scrambled for the blanket, stammering, "Ari—it's not—"
I let out a bitter laugh. "Its not what it looks like? I just saw my boyfriend's dick buried inside you and you're telling me it's not what it looks like?!"
Roland grabbed the sheet, wrapping it around his waist and stepping toward me. "Baby, listen—"
"Don't fucking call me that!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "You said you loved me!"
I threw the coffee at the wall beside him. "A mistake? You mean you accidentally slept with my best friend?"
Tessa started crying then, her face buried in her hands. The sound only made me want to angrier.
Roland tried to talk again, "Ariel, please. I messed up. You mean everything to me—"
"Stop." I said cutting him off. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."
I looked at both of them—my boyfriend, my best friend—and every every happy memory, every sweet promise, all dissolved.
I turned and walked out.
By the time I got home, my hands were still shaking.
I sat on the floor of my room for hours, staring at the stains on my shirt.
My wolf stirred restlessly under my skin, growling at the betrayal.
I wanted to shift and run until the ache was gone, but even that felt useless.
My phone buzzed nonstop.
Both Roland and Tessa kept calling but I ignored then.
I threw the phone into my drawer and buried my face in my hands, crying.
It was sunset when my roommate, Lena, burst in.
She looked me up and down. "Ohh sweetheart, you're a mess."
"Thanks," I muttered.
She crouched in front of me. "I heard what happened."
Of course she had. News traveled fast in the pack.
"Yeah well things happen," I said.
I felt her eyes on my for a few seconds before she tapped me, "come on. Get up."
My brow furrowed. "To where?"
"The Halloween party." She said looking at me like I was dumb.
"I humbly decline." I responded.
"Wrong answer." She grabbed my arm, pulling me up. "You are definitely going. You're not letting them win by crying over this all night."
"Lena, I'm not in the mood to—"
"No," she said firmly. "You'll put on something hot, drink something strong, and remind everyone exactly who you are."
I wanted to argue, but a part of me needed that distraction.
Needed to forget, to feel something apart from the pain in my heart, even for one night.
"Fine," I said quietly. "One hour. Then I'm leaving."
The pack's annual masquerade was in full swing when we arrived.
Music thumped through the huge hall, and candles flickered inside the carved pumpkins.
Everyone wore masks, looking mysterious.
Lena disappeared into the crowd immediately, ditching me for a pack warrior.
I stood by the bar, nursing a drink that burned.
It felt strange being surrounded by laughter when all I felt was despay. Every song and flash of light made me want to peel out my own skin.
Then I felt eyes on me.
I turned and found a man across the room in a dark mask watching me.
His mask, black and gold with sharp edges and it covered half of his face, but his eyes were molten amber, glowing faintly even in the dim light.
When our gazes met, something inside me shivered.
My wolf stirred again, curious to what was going on1.
He didn't look away.
He moved through the crowd and people parted instinctively.
When he reached me, he offered his hand, his voice low and smooth. "Dance with me, my lady."
I almost laughed. "My lady? Really? Which year did you come out from?"
"Would you prefer sweetheart?" he asked, amusement in his tone.
I took his hand before I could think twice. "You can call me Ari," I said.
He smiled under the mask. "Beautiful name."
The moment his palm touched my waist, a jolt ran through me.
My wolf purred softly in the back of my mind, not in warning, but recognition.
We moved together easily, like we'd done this a hundred times.
The world faded around us.
It was just him and me.
"Have we met before?" I asked, breathless.
He leaned closer, his voice a whisper against my ear. "I'm sure I would remember meeting such a wonderful woman."
The air between us thickened. Every brush of his thumb on my skin made my heart race.
He smelled was intoxicating , making me heady.
When the song ended, neither of us stepped away.
He cupped my jaw gently. "You shouldn't look at me like that," he murmured.
"Like what?"
"Like you're trying to figure out me out."
My lips parted, but no words came out.
He laughed softly, tilting my chin up. "Come with me."
We slipped away from the noise, down a hall lined with flickering candles.
The room he led me to was quiet and dimly.
The door clicked shut behind us.
For a moment, we just stared at each other.
My heartbeat was sounding loud in my ears. I should've been nervous, but all I felt was a heat—pulling me toward him like gravity.
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You're too beautiful to be looking this sad."
That single line cracked something open in me.
I hadn't realized how badly I needed to feel seen.
I didn't think.
I tilted my head up and brushed my lips on his.
He kissed me back instantly, deep and hungry
The kiss ignited something in me.
One second we were breathing each other's air, the next his mouth was claiming mine with a kind of ruthless precision that made my knees threaten to give out. His tongue slid against mine—slow at first, teasing, then deeper, hungrier, like he'd been starving for this exact taste for years.
My back hit the wall with a soft thud. I didn't even remember moving backward.
His big hands framed my face for a heartbeat before they began their descent—down the column of my throat, over my collarbones, then lower. When his palms finally closed over my breasts through the thin fabric of my black dress, I gasped into his mouth.
He growled—low, approving, almost feral—and squeezed just hard enough to make me arch.
"You've been hurting," he murmured against my lips, voice gravel-rough. "Let me make it better."
I should've said something clever. Something guarded.
Instead I whispered, "Then do it."
Permission granted, he moved like a man who'd already mapped every inch of me in his mind.
One hand slid down to grip my hip, pinning me while the other found the hidden zipper at my side. The sound of it descending was obscenely loud in the quiet room. Cool air kissed my skin as he peeled the dress down my shoulders, letting the fabric pool at my waist.
No bra. Just the thin black lace thong beneath.
His gaze dropped. Darkened. The amber in his eyes flared brighter, pupils blown wide.
"Fuck," he breathed, almost reverently. "Look at you."
He didn't give me time to feel shy.
His mouth was on my throat—open, wet kisses turning into teeth scraping just shy of breaking skin. Every time his canines grazed me my wolf whined, needy, rolling under my skin, begging.
He dropped to his knees.
Just… dropped.
Like it was nothing.
Like getting on his knees for me was the most natural thing in the world.
My hands flew to his shoulders for balance. His mask was still on—black and gold edges catching the candlelight—and somehow that made it dirtier. Mysterious. Dangerous.
He hooked two fingers in the sides of my thong and dragged it down my thighs in one slow, deliberate pull. I stepped out of it on trembling legs.
Then he looked up at me—really looked—eyes burning through the mask.
"Spread for me, Ari."
The command hit me like a fist. My thighs parted almost before my brain registered the words.
He didn't tease. Didn't play coy.
He simply leaned in and licked a long, flat stripe up my center.
I cried out—sharp, broken—hips jerking forward.
He made a hungry sound against me, the vibration traveling straight to my clit. Then he sealed his mouth over me and sucked.
Hard.
My head thunked back against the wall. Fingers dug into his hair. The mask's edge pressed into my inner thigh and I didn't care—didn't care about anything except the hot, relentless rhythm of his tongue circling my clit, then flicking, then circling again.
He ate me like he was trying to memorize the taste.
Like he wanted to ruin me for anyone else.
Two thick fingers slid inside me without warning—curling immediately, finding that spot that made my vision white out.
"Oh god—fuck—"
He hummed in approval, the sound vibrating straight through my core.
I was dripping down his wrist. I could hear it—wet, filthy sounds every time he fucked his fingers deeper.
My thighs started shaking.
He pulled back just enough to rasp against my swollen clit, "Come on my tongue, beautiful. Let me taste how much you needed this."
That was it.
The combination of his voice, the relentless curl of his fingers, the way he sucked my clit back into his mouth like he was pulling my soul out through it—
I shattered.
Hard.
Back bowing off the wall, thighs clamping around his head, a sob ripping out of my throat as wave after wave tore through me. He didn't stop. Kept licking, slower now, drawing it out until I was whimpering, oversensitive, hips twitching with every soft pass of his tongue.
When he finally pulled away his lips were glossy, chin wet.
He rose slowly, towering over me again.
I could smell myself on him.
He kissed me—deep, dirty, letting me taste myself on his tongue while his hands worked his belt open with sharp, impatient jerks.
I reached down to help.
The moment my fingers closed around him I moaned into his mouth.
Thick. Hot. So hard the vein along the underside pulsed against my palm.
He groaned when I stroked him—once, twice—then batted my hand away like he couldn't take it.
"Later," he growled. "I need to be inside you. Now."
He lifted me like I weighed nothing, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.
The head of his cock nudged my entrance—slipping through the slick mess he'd already made of me.
He looked into my eyes through the mask.
"Tell me you want it."
"I want it," I breathed. "I want you."
One hard, deep thrust and he was buried to the hilt.
We both froze for a second—panting, trembling—adjusting to the stretch, the fullness, the obscene intimacy of it.
Then he started moving.
Slow at first. Deep rolls of his hips that dragged every thick inch along every sensitive place inside me.
Then faster.
Harder.
The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the small room, mixing with my gasps and his low, guttural curses.
He fucked me against the wall like he was trying to brand himself into my bones.
One hand braced beside my head, the other gripped my ass, spreading me wider so he could go deeper.
Every thrust punched the air out of my lungs.
Every time he bottomed out I saw stars.
"You feel so fucking good," he snarled against my throat. "So tight—so wet—made for this cock, weren't you?"
I couldn't answer with words.
Only broken moans and the rhythmic slap of our bodies.
My nails raked down his back through his shirt.
He hissed, hips snapping harder.
The angle changed—just slightly—and suddenly he was hitting that spot again, over and over, merciless.
I felt the second orgasm building too fast, too big.
"I'm—fuck—I'm gonna—"
"Do it," he ordered, voice shredded. "Come all over me. Let me feel it."
He ground his pelvis against my clit on the next thrust and I broke again—screaming this time, clenching so hard around him I felt him stutter, felt the rhythm of his thrusts turn erratic.
"Fuck—Ari—"
He slammed in one last time, burying himself as deep as possible, and came with a long, guttural groan.
I felt every pulse—hot, thick, filling me until it leaked out around him.
We stayed locked together, breathing raggedly, foreheads pressed together even with the mask still between us.
After long moments he kissed me again—slower this time. Sweeter. Almost tender.
"You okay
?" he murmured.
I laughed weakly against his mouth. "I think you just fucked my soul out of my body."
He chuckled, low and dark.
"Good."
He stayed inside me a little longer—softening slowly—before carefully pulling out and lowering me to my feet.
My legs shook.
He steadied me with both hands on my waist, then pressed one last soft kiss to my swollen lips.
"Stay with me tonight," he said quietly. Not a question. Not quite an order. Something in between.
I looked up at the stranger in the black-and-gold mask, heart still racing, body still humming, and realized
I didn't want to be anywhere else.
So I whispered the only answer that felt true.
"Okay."