Chapter 2

Falon Haynes POV: Morning sunlight cut through the narrow slits of the window blinds, stinging my eyes. I tried to push myself up, only for a wave of crushing soreness to wash through my bones. It felt like a semi-truck had flattened every joint in my body. I sucked in a sharp breath. The wild, chaotic memories of the previous night—heavy with the scent of cedar, sweat, and breathless gasps—flooded my mind all at once. The vast king-sized bed was empty beside me. The second pillow was cold to the touch; Brock had clearly been gone for hours. I rubbed my aching lower back and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress. The moment my bare toes touched the cold hardwood floor, my knees almost buckled. I had to grip the nightstand just to keep from collapsing. A heavy, black-and-gold card sat on the wooden surface. Brock's sharp, powerful handwriting stood out against the dark cardstock: Emergency board meeting. Breakfast is in the warmer. The garage keypad code is your birthday. —Brock. I stared at the words your birthday for several long seconds, an unsettling ripple spreading through my chest. Why would a man who only married me for convenience use my birthday as his private security code? Shaking off the thought, I pushed myself up and limped toward the bathroom. I slid open the frosted glass door and stepped in front of the vanity mirror. The moment my eyes landed on my reflection, my breath hitched in my throat. Across my pale neck and collarbones, dark crimson bruises were scattered in reckless abandon. Right over my jugular vein sat a concentrated, intensely heavy mark carrying the raw scent of an Alpha's claim. While he hadn't broken the skin to complete the permanent bite, that dominant cedar aroma was more than enough to announce to every werewolf in the city that I had been thoroughly and utterly claimed. I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water over my throat to scrub away the phantom heat, but the scent clung to my skin like it was woven into my very soul. Giving up, I returned to the walk-in closet and dug out a thick, cream-colored turtleneck sweater, pulling the high collar up until it completely hid the bruised skin. Once dressed, I grabbed the car keys off the foyer console and took the private elevator straight down to the underground parking level. The garage was lined with rows of luxury sports cars. I hit the unlock button, and in the far corner, a massive, matte-black armored SUV flashed its amber lights. Brock's daily ride—a literal steel beast designed to withstand a war zone. I climbed into the high driver's seat, feeling a strange sense of safety wrapped inside his vehicle, and steered it into the morning rush of Manhattan traffic. Half an hour later, I pulled the armored SUV up to the curb outside the Riverdale University Architecture Department. I spotted Halie waiting on the stone steps and pushed the door open. Halie immediately bounded down the stairs like a hyperactive pup, throwing her arms around me in a crushing embrace. "Falon! You're finally here! My structural mechanics paper is literally about to end my life!" "Okay, okay, let me breathe first," I laughed, patting her back before trying to steer her toward the library. We hadn't taken three steps when Halie suddenly froze. Her nose twitched. She leaned in toward my neck, sniffing the air like a trained bloodhound. My heart skipped a beat. I instinctively yanked my turtleneck higher, stepping back. Halie's emerald-green eyes went wide as saucers. She pointed a trembling finger straight at me. "Whoa. Falon... why do you reek of the old man? And why is it so damn strong?!" "He's thirty-two, Halie, not an old man," I muttered, looking away to dodge her gaze. My face was burning. "I probably just brushed against his coat." Halie crossed her arms, a wicked, knowing grin spreading across her face. Without warning, her hand darted out, hooking her finger over the collar of my sweater and pulling it down just an inch. She gasped loudly. "Brushed against his coat?!" Halie burst into laughter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "That is pure, unadulterated Alpha territorial claiming, Falon! My eyes are burning just looking at it!" Heat rushed all the way to the tips of my ears. I swatted her hand away and adjusted my collar. "Shut up. It was just the alcohol and the herbs in the drinks. It was an accident." Halie leaned into my ear, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial, teasing whisper. "An accident? The great Alpha Brock Hamilton doesn't do accidents. Does this mean I should start calling my best friend 'Luna Mommy' now?" "Halie!" I clamped a hand over her mouth, looking around the campus frantically. "Don't you dare call me that out loud!" Halie mumbled a laugh against my palm, ducking away and catching my arm. "Fine, fine! I'll stop teasing. But seriously, look at you! You're glowing!" She linked her arm through mine, her smile softening into something genuine. "Anyway, help me fix these blueprint calculations really quick, and then I'm taking you to the edge of the territory. I have a massive surprise for you." "A surprise? What kind of surprise?" I asked, grateful for the subject change. Halie gave me a cryptic wink, her eyes glinting with excitement. "A wedding gift. And trust me, Falon... it's going to completely blow your mind." I smiled, shaking my head as we walked into the library. But as we sat down to work, the strange hum of the mind-link at the base of my skull began to vibrate. Someone was trying to bridge a mental connection with me—a connection only a true mate could initiate.