Chapter 2

Ansley POV:

His fingers were startlingly cold against my feverish skin, and the sudden contrast sent a sharp, involuntary whimper tearing from my throat.

The small, pathetic sound echoed against the polished walls of the elevator, and the darkness in his steel-blue eyes instantly deepened into something predatory.

Acie turned his back to us immediately, staring straight ahead at the metal doors as if he had suddenly become deaf and blind to the world.

I tried to twist my head away from the Alpha's iron grip, but The Heat had completely drained my muscles, leaving my struggles weak and useless.

Instead of releasing me, his thumb shifted slightly, the rough pad of his finger stroking the sensitive curve along the underside of my jawline with deliberate, agonizing pressure.

"Let... let me go," I whispered, biting down hard on the tip of my tongue to let the sharp burst of pain anchor my slipping sanity.

My voice came out thick, breathy, and utterly devoid of the defiance I wanted to project.

A low, mocking rumble vibrated in his broad chest, the scent of frozen cedar wrapping around me so tightly it felt like a physical blanket.

"Let you go?" he murmured, leaning in until his cool breath brushed the corner of my lips. "You were begging on your knees for my protection two seconds ago."

A soft chime signaled our arrival at the penthouse floor, and the elevator doors glided open to reveal a massive, dimly lit private foyer.

The man let go of my chin and rose to his full height in one fluid motion, adjusting the crisp cuffs of his suit jacket before stepping out onto the dark slate tiles.

I collapsed fully onto the marble floor, my limbs trembling as I watched his broad back walk away, assuming he was leaving me behind in the cab.

"Bring her," he commanded without turning around, his tone indifferent as he moved deeper into the apartment.

Acie turned around instantly, hooking his hands under my arms and hoisting me off the floor with effortless efficiency, treating me like a bundle of fragile cargo.

My bare feet dragged across the thick, dark wool runner that lined the private hallway, muffling every sound of our movement.

The double doors of the penthouse stood wide open, exposing a sprawling living room designed in severe, minimalist shades of charcoal, steel, and frosted glass.

Acie carried me over to an enormous black leather sectional, setting me down onto the deep cushions before stepping back with a swift bow.

"That will be all, Acie," the Alpha said from across the room.

"Yes, Mr. Mejia," Acie replied quietly, stepping backward through the main doors and pulling them shut with a heavy, muted click.

The sudden silence in the vast penthouse was deafening, filled only by the ragged sound of my own shallow breathing.

The man walked over to a backlit bar of dark smoked glass, unscrewing a crystal decanter and pouring a measure of amber bourbon over a heavy block of ice.

The Heat flared up inside my abdomen again, a savage, rolling wave of pure fire that forced me to curl inward, my fingernails sinking deep into the expensive leather beneath me.

I clenched my jaw so tight my teeth ached, trying desperately to suppress the primal urge to crawl across the room and throw myself at the freezing coldness radiating from him.

A ragged gasp escaped my lips as the internal fever peaked, my knuckles turning stark white against the dark upholstery.

The Alpha picked up his lowball glass and walked over, stopping right in front of the sofa to look down at me like an intriguing specimen on an examination table.

"A wolfless," he noted calmly, as if his sharp senses had instantly detected the hollow, quiet void inside my blood where an inner wolf should have been howling.

The word sounded like a dirty slur falling from his lips, and a spark of raw humiliation ignited inside my chest, prompting me to glare up at him through my tangled hair.

He tilted his head back, draining the bourbon in one smooth swallow before setting the crystal glass down on the marble coffee table with a sharp click.

Before I could process the movement, he leaned down, planting his large hands on the sofa back on either side of my shoulders, trapping me entirely within his shadow.

The scent of cedar and aged whiskey crashed over my senses, making the fire in my blood boil toward an unbearable crescendo.

Every single cell in my body screamed at me to close the distance, to press my burning forehead against his cool neck, but when my chin tilted up, he subtly shifted his head, denying me the contact.

"So eager," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave into a low, gravelly register that vibrated straight down to my toes.

Shame flooded my cheeks, and I tried to push myself backward, but my spine was already pressed flat against the firm leather cushions.

Without warning, his hand reached out and seized the torn collar of my silk overshirt, ripping the ruined fabric away in one swift, ruthless tug to expose the thin strap of my camisole.

The cool air of the penthouse hit my overheated skin, sending a violent shiver down my spine, yet my body only burned hotter beneath the intensity of his stare.

His steel-blue eyes tracked the heavy rise and fall of my chest, the cold authority of his Alpha presence slowly giving way to something far darker and infinitely more possessive.

I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing there was no running from the storm brewing in this room, a single tear of helpless frustration leaking from the corner of my eye.

His rough thumb reached out, catching the stray tear and wiping it away with startling force as his voice dropped into a dangerous, hypnotic whisper.

"Don't cry yet, little rabbit. The game hasn't even begun."