Claimed by Four Alphas

An Omegaverse Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance

Fiona Black

Copyright © [Year of First Publication] by [Author or Pen Name]

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

1. Chapter 1 - Dahlia

2. Chapter 2 - Dahlia

3. Chapter 3 - Onyx

4. Chapter 4 – Dahlia

5. Chapter 5 – Leo

6. Chapter 6 – Dahlia

7. Chapter 7 - Evan

8. Chapter 8 - Axl

9. Chapter 9 - Leo

10. Chapter 10 - Evan

11. Chapter 11 - Dahlia

12. Chapter 12 - Axl

13. Chapter 13 - Dahlia

14. Chapter 14 - Dahlia

15. Chapter 15 - Evan

16. Chapter 16 - Evan

17. Chapter 17 - Dahlia

18. Chapter 18 - Onyx

19. Chapter 19 - Axl

20. Chapter 20 - Dahlia

21. Chapter 21 - Evan

22. Chapter 22 - Dahlia

23. Chapter 23 - Leo

24. Chapter 24 - Evan

25. Chapter 25 - Onyx

26. Chapter 26 - Dahlia

27. Chapter 27 - Onyx

28. Chapter 28 - Leo

29. Epilogue - Dahlia

Claimed by Fur and Fangs

About Fiona Black

Chapter 1 - Dahlia

"What do you mean my funding has been cut? That's not possible. I just got the grant renewed last month!" I press my phone harder against my ear and pace the length of my cramped lab while Dr. Matteo fumbles through excuses at the other end.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Baldwin. We have some budget constraints, and this came directly from the board. There's nothing I can do."

"Bullshit." The word flies out before I can stop it. "This is about my research, isn't it? Someone's scared I'm getting too close. My lab was just broken into, and now this is it."

His silence tells me everything.

"Eighty percent, Matteo. You’re cutting off eighty percent of my funding. The twenty left won’t even be enough to run basic equipment, let alone continue the virus trials."

"Perhaps you should consider... alternative funding sources."

The way he says it makes my skin crawl.

"Like Blackthorn Biotech?" I ask.

He doesn't respond.

"You know what? Forget it. I'll handle this myself."

I hang up and slam my phone onto the lab bench, making my beakers rattle. My research assistant Emily jumps, nearly dropping a petri dish.

"Bad news?" She asks.

"The worst kind." I grab my blazer off the back of my chair. "I'll be back in a few hours. Don't touch the centrifuge samples."

I'm out the door before she can respond. I know exactly who's behind this. The same man who's been circling my research like a shark for months, waiting for me to bleed in the water.

Evan fucking Blackthorn.

Forty minutes later, I'm storming through the gleaming glass doors of Blackthorn Biotech's headquarters, a sixty-story monument to corporate greed disguised as scientific innovation. The receptionist, a perfectly dressed blonde with alarmed eyes, starts to rise from her seat.

"Ma'am, you need an appointment to…"

I blow past her toward the private elevator I know leads to the executive floor. Security starts moving in my direction, but I've already pressed the button. The elevator doors slide shut just as security reaches them. I jab the button for the top floor, as my heart hammers against my ribs.

Evan's assistant, Oliver, I think his name is, nearly falls out of his chair when I burst through the double doors of the executive suite.

"Dr. Baldwin! Mr. Blackthorn is not ready to receive any guests…"

"Yes, he is." I push past him and throw open Evan's office door so hard it bangs against the wall.

Evan sits behind his ridiculous glass desk, phone to his ear, looking like he's posing for a "Billionaires Monthly" cover shoot. His eyes widen slightly at my entrance before his expression settles into an infuriating smirk.

"I'll call you back," he says smoothly onto the phone before setting it down. "Dr. Baldwin. What an unexpected pleasure."

"Cut the crap, Mr. Blackthorn." I slam my hands on his desk, leaning forward. "Did you get my funding cut?"

He leans back in his chair, studying me with those icy blue eyes. Focus Dahlia. You hate this man.

"You know, most people make appointments."

"Most people did not have their life's work sabotaged by a pompous jerk."

He laughs a deep, genuine, and utterly infuriating sound. "You're still the same Dahlia. How I have missed you."

"Answer the question damn question. Did you do this?"

He stands, and I hate that I must tilt my head up to maintain eye contact. He's too tall, too broad-shouldered, too everything.

"As much as I'd love to take credit for having that kind of influence over university funding decisions, and as much as I want you working for me, I don't typically resort to blackmail."

"Liar."

"Think about it, Dahlia." He walks around the desk and leans against it just inches from where I stand. "If I wanted to sabotage you, why would I cut your funding by eighty percent? Why not all of it?"

I cross my arms. "Well, I don't know how your brain works. Maybe you want to back me into a corner and make me desperate enough to come to you."

"And yet here you are." His smile widens. "Though I suspect it's more out of rage than desperation."

"Fix it." I jab a finger at his chest, ignoring the solid wall of muscle I encounter. "Call whoever you called to cut my funding and fix it."

"I didn't cut your funding. But I'm certainly not going to pretend I'm not pleased by this development." He shifts closer, and I catch a hint of his woodsy and expensive scent that makes my nose tingle. "You need money to continue your research. I have money. Lots of it."

"I'm not interested in your help."

"No?" He raises an eyebrow. "How exactly do you plan to find a cure for the Crimson Plague without proper funding? Bake sales? Crowdfunding?"

I freeze. "How do you know what I'm researching?"

"I make it my business to know what my brilliant scientist is working on. Especially when it involves a virus that's decimating the shifter population."

"My lab shut down that research track."

"Yes, they did." He nods, his expression darkening. "That's very shortsighted of them. I wouldn't."

Something in his tone makes me step back. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if you worked for me, you'd have unlimited funding, state-of-the-art equipment, and complete freedom to pursue your research on the Crimson Plague. No university ethics committees will breathe down your neck. And most certainly you won't have your budget cut. Ever."

"And all I have to do is sell my soul."

He chuckles. "You're so dramatic. I'm offering you a job, not asking for your soul."

"It feels like the same thing when it comes to you."

"You hurt me." He places a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "But as it happens, you don't actually have a choice anymore."

My stomach drops. "What are you talking about?"

Evan walks back behind his desk, pulls open a drawer, and extracts a folder, then slides it across to me. "As of this morning, Blackthorn Biotech has acquired exclusive rights to all research conducted in Dr. Matteo's lab… including yours."

I snatch up the folder and flip it open. Matteo's signature is on the transfer agreement, and my hands start to shake. That son of a fucking bitch

"You can't do this. My research is independent…"

"It was conducted using university resources, under university supervision. The contract is quite clear." He taps the paper. "You work for me now, Dr. Baldwin."

"You are a cunning snake." The words come out as a hiss.

"I did what was necessary." His voice hardens. "The Crimson Plague is spreading, and you're closer to understanding it than anyone. I wasn't about to let some university bean counters shut you down because they're afraid of what you might discover."

I slam the folder shut. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"The same thing you want. A cure."

"Why? You're not even a shifter." But even as I say it, something clicks into place. "Are you?"

He doesn't answer immediately, and in that hesitation, I see the truth.

"Holy shit." I step closer, studying him with new eyes. "You are a shifter."

"Half," he admits, his jaw tight. "On my mother's side."

The revelation stuns me into silence. Evan Blackthorn, billionaire, notorious playboy, corporate shark, is half shifter. It explains so much, his aggressive business tactics, his territorial behavior, his magnetic presence that always made me feel slightly off-balance.

"Does anyone know?"

"A select few. And now you." He steps closer, into my personal space. "Consider it a show of good faith."

I should step back. I should maintain a professional distance. But something keeps me rooted to the spot as he looms over me, and his scent starts wrapping around me like a physical thing. And it makes me want to jump his bones and let him have his way with me.

"I still hate you," I whisper, but the heat behind the words has faded.

"I know." His voice drops an octave, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "But you'll work with me anyway, because deep down, you know I'm right. The cure matters more than your pride."

He's so close now, I can feel the heat radiating off his body. My eyes drift to his mouth without my permission, and his lips curve into a knowing smile that should infuriate me but instead makes my pulse skip.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice embarrassingly breathy.

"Testing a theory." He leans in, his breath warm against my cheek. "Do you know your pupils dilate when I get close. Your pulse quickens, and you smell sweet. So sweet, I want to devour you."

"That's… that's just basic human physiology. It's a fight or flight response."

"Is that what this is?" His hand comes up to brush a curl behind my ear, and I can't stop the small sound that escapes me.

His eyes darken at the sound, and then he closes the distance between us until his lips capture mine in a kiss. I should push him away. I should slap him. I should do anything but what I do is grab his shirt and pull him closer.

He makes a low, approving sound in the back of his throat that vibrates through me. His hands find my waist and pull me against him as the kiss deepens. I tug at his hair, harder than necessary, a small act of defiance even as I open to him.

He lifts me suddenly, gripping my thighs as he sits me on the edge of his desk. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, drawing him between them.

"I've wanted to do this since the first time you stormed into my office and called me a 'corporate parasite,'" he murmurs against my skin.

"Shut up," I gasp, tugging his hair to bring his mouth back to mine.

He grinds his hips against me, the hard length of him pressing exactly where I need it, and I moan into his mouth. One of his hands slides up my ribs to cup my breast, and his thumb brushes over the peak through my blouse and bra.

"Fuck," I breathe as he pinches lightly, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to my core.

He makes a growling sound that's decidedly inhuman, and his eyes flash wild. He pushes my blouse up, and descends his mouth to my breast, sucking through the thin fabric of my bra.

"Oh god," I moan, arching my back to press myself more firmly against his mouth. I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him to my breast.

He brings his hand up to cup my other breast and flicks his thumb over the nipple before he pinches it between his fingers. The combination of sensations makes me cry out, a sound that's half pleasure and half desperation.

"Please," I whimper, rocking my hips against him.

A sharp knock cuts through the haze of desire.

"Mr. Blackthorn?" Oliver calls through the door. "Your two o'clock is here, and your car is waiting to take you to the airport."

Evan pulls back, and he has a murderous expression on his face. "Goddammit," he mutters, then raises his voice. "I'll be right out."

Reality crashes back like a bucket of ice water. I push against his chest and scramble off the desk, tugging my clothes back into place. My face burns with embarrassment and lingering arousal.

What did I just do? Why did I do it? It seemed like I had no control over my body.

"This didn't happen," I say, smoothing my hair with shaking hands.

Evan looks completely unruffled except for the darkened eyes and the slight redness where my lipstick has transferred to his mouth. He wipes it away with his thumb, watching me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. I cross my legs together. I am wet. Dripping in fact but it was just a kiss. A kiss.

"We should meet again soon," he says, "To finalize the details of your research transfer. I'll have contracts drawn up."

"Fine." I grab my purse, desperate to escape before I do something stupid.

"One more thing." He catches my wrist as I turn to leave. "I'm assigning you a security detail."

I pull my arm free. "I don't need a babysitter."

"This isn't up for debate… Someone ransacked your lab last week. And there was also a break-in at your apartment before that."

I freeze. "How do you know about those incidents?"

"I make it my business to know." His jaw tightens. "The Crimson Plague didn't just come out of the blue, Dahlia. There are powerful people who started this, and they don't want a cure found."

"Why?"

"That's a longer conversation." He glances at his watch. "Until then, you'll accept my protection."

"Or what?"

"You'll probably have a bullet in your head by next week." His tone makes it clear this isn't an idle threat.

"Your choice."

Chapter 2 - Dahlia

"No, I didn't throw the damn report at his head, but I wanted to." I cradle my phone between my ear and shoulder while chopping vegetables. "You should have seen his smug face when he told me I work for him now."

Emily laughs on the other end of the line. "So instead of throwing things, you made out with him on his desk?"

"I did not…" I stop myself because technically that's exactly what I did. "It wasn't like that. I don't know what happened."

"Uh-huh." I can practically hear her smirk through the phone. "You’ve met Evan twice at a research conference, and both times you have wanted to poke your fingers in his eyes, and now you've just’ accidentally fallen on his lips."

"I'm serious, Em." I put down the knife before I hurt myself. "Something weird happened. It was like... my body took over. I couldn't think straight."

"That's called attraction, Dahlia. Some of us experience it regularly."

I roll my eyes. "I know what attraction feels like. This was different. More... intense."

"How intense are we talking?"

I hesitate, glancing around my empty apartment as if someone might overhear. "I had to cum three times before I could get myself back under control."

The silence on the other end stretches out so long that I check to see if the call dropped.

"Emily?"

"I'm sorry… did you just say THREE TIMES?"

"Yes." I press my forehead against the cool refrigerator door. "I couldn't stop... You know."

"Dripping?" Emily supplies helpfully.

"Yes. That." My face burns. "I've never been that turned on in my life. From just a kiss! It doesn't make sense."

"Dahlia, are you okay? That doesn't sound normal, even for someone who's been in a dry spell as long as yours."

"Thanks for the reminder," I mutter, returning to my chopping. "And no, I don't think I am okay. Something's wrong with my body."

"What do you mean?"

I pause, trying to find the words. "I've been feeling off for weeks now. Hot flashes, heightened sense of smell, weird cravings. And now this... uncontrollable arousal. It's like my hormones are completely out of whack."

"Maybe you should see a doctor? Or run some tests on yourself, since that's what you do anyway."

"Maybe," I admit. "I've been so focused on the Crimson Plague research; I haven't had time to…"

I hear something drop from somewhere in my apartment, and it cuts me off mid-sentence. I freeze with my knife suspended in mid-air.

"What was that?" Emily asks.

"I don't know." I keep my voice low, straining to hear any other sounds. "I think someone's in my apartment."

"Dahlia, call the police!"

"I'll call you back," I whisper, ending the call before she can protest.

I set my phone down silently and grab the knife, holding it in front of me. My heart pounds against my ribs as I edge toward the doorway of my kitchen. The layout of my apartment means anyone coming in would have to pass by to reach me, giving me at least a chance to see them first.

The hallway is dark, just as I left it. I strain my ears and catch the faintest sound of breathing that isn't mine.

"I have a weapon," I announce, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "And I've already called the police."

No response...

I take another step forward. "You picked the wrong apartment to…"

A hand clamps around my wrist with lightning speed, twisting until the knife clatters to the floor. Before I can scream, another hand covers my mouth, and my face is pressed against the wall, my cheek smashed against the cool plaster.

"Don't scream," a deep voice says against my ear. "I'm not here to hurt you. If I let go, will you stay quiet?"

Like hell I will. I kick backward, aiming for his shin, his knee, anything, but he shifts, and catches my leg with his own, effectively trapping me.

"Please," he says, his voice dropping lower. "I just need to talk to you. My name is Onyx. I don't want to hurt you."

Something in his tone makes me pause. I stop struggling, my chest heaving against the wall.

"I'm going to let you go now," he says. "Don't scream."

The hand over my mouth slowly releases, and he backs away, giving me space to turn around.

I whirl to face him, pressing my back against the wall for support. The man, Onyx, is huge, towering over me with broad shoulders that block out the light from the kitchen. In the dimness, I can make out his features. He has long, dark hair that is pulled back into a ponytail, and his eyes seem to reflect light like an animal. Plus, he's fine as fuck.

"What the hell?" I spit out, my voice shaking with anger. "Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?"

"I'm sorry," he says, and he sounds like he means it. "This was the only way I could meet you alone."

"There's this thing called a phone. Or email. Or literally any other method that doesn't involve breaking and entering." I snap. My eyes dart to the knife on the floor. He notices and kicks it away with his boot.

He shakes his head. "It's too risky. People are watching you."

"Yeah, apparently!" I gesture wildly at him. "What do you want from me?"

His expression hardens. "I want your cure."

"My what?"

"The cure for the Crimson Plague." He takes a step closer, and I press myself harder against the wall. "I know you're working on it."

"How do you…"

"I'm the Alpha of the Stonefang pack," he interrupts. "We've lost twenty people to the virus already."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Well, you're about twelve hours too late. My funding was just cut, and I've been strong-armed to work for Blackthorn Biotech. So, if you want to talk about my research, you'll have to take it up with Evan Blackthorn."

"My cousin Mara is infected," he continues. "She doesn't have much time. I need to put an end to the transmission before I lose anyone else."

The desperation in his voice catches me off guard. I've been so wrapped up in the science, in the molecules and mutations, that sometimes I forget there are actual lives at stake.

I sigh, suddenly exhausted. "Look, I haven't found a cure. I was making progress, but then my funding was cut, my lab was ransacked, and now you're in my apartment giving me a mini heart attack. Nothing has gone right since I started researching this virus."

"You're my only hope," he says quietly.

Something inside me bristles at his words. "I hate that phrase. 'Only hope.' It's melodramatic and puts unfair pressure on people."

"It's the truth." His eyes flash with anger, and he suddenly slams his fist into the wall beside me, making me jump. "You think I want to be here? Begging a human for help? My people are dying!"

The impact leaves a dent in my drywall, and I should be terrified, but something else is happening to me. A musky, wild scent like sand after rain floods my senses, and it overwhelms everything else.

Heat crawls up my spine, spreading through my body like wildfire. My skin prickles, and suddenly I'm burning up from the inside out.

"Are you…" I gasp, doubling over as a cramp seizes my abdomen. "What's happening to me?"

Onyx's anger vanishes, replaced by shock. He stares at me as his nostrils flare. "No," he whispers. "It can't be."

"Don't come near me," I manage to say, pressing a hand against the wall to steady myself. My legs feel wobbly, and there's a pulsing ache building between my thighs. "Don't come near me."

But he does the opposite. He walks closer to me; his eyes never leave mine. "When did this start?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I pant. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my clothes feel too tight, too rough against my hypersensitive skin.

He reaches out slowly, and I should slap his hand away, but when his palm touches my cheek, I can't help leaning into it. His skin is blissfully cool against my burning face.

"Fuck," he swears softly. Then he leans in, his nose skimming the side of my neck, inhaling deeply.

A growl like an actual growl rumble from his chest, vibrating against me where our bodies nearly touch. The sound sends a jolt of pure need straight to my core, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning.

"Impossible," he whispers against my skin. "After all this time..."

"What?" I ask, my voice barely audible. "What's happening to me?"

"You're an Omega," he says, his voice thick with disbelief. "A dormant Omega who's just woken up."

Chapter 3 - Onyx

Ican't fucking believe what's happening. Her scent hits me like a truck—sweet and ripe, like summer fruit ready to be devoured. My wolf claws at my insides, demanding I claim her right here against the wall.

Dahlia's eyes widen. "What? No, that's not possible. I'm human. I've always been human."

"Apparently, you're not." I take a step back, trying to create distance between us before I do something I'll regret. "Your body is changing. I can smell it."

She slides down the wall until she's sitting on the floor, then she wraps her arms around her knees.

"What's happening to me?" Her voice shakes and sweat beads along her hairline.

"Fuck, how do I explain this?" I run a hand through my hair, pulling it loose from its tie. "Well, it seems you're a recessive Omega. Some humans carry shifter genes without knowing it. They stay dormant until..."

"Until what?" she demands, her cheeks flushed pink.

"Until they're exposed to compatible Alpha's pheromones. Someone like me." The guilt crashes over me. I came here for help, and instead, I've triggered something that will change her life forever. "I'm sorry. This is my fault."

She shakes her head frantically. "That doesn't make sense. I've been around shifters before. I work with shifter blood samples every day."

"It's not just any shifter. It must be..." I hesitate, not wanting to say the words that will make this real. "It has to be someone your body recognizes as a potential mate."

"Mate?" She laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. "That's insane. I don't even know you."

"Your body doesn't care." I hold out my hand. "Come on, you need to lie down. This is only going to get worse."

She stares at my hand for a long moment before taking it. The moment our skin touches, electricity shoots up my arm. She gasps, feeling it too.

"Oh god," she whispers.

I help her to her feet, and she stumbles against me, her body hot even through her clothes. I guide her to the living room, keeping my touch as clinical as possible despite my wolf howling to pull her closer.

"Sit," I say, leading her to the couch. "I'll get you some water."

She collapses onto the cushions, her breathing shallow. "I don't understand any of this."

I kneel in front of her, trying to keep my eyes on her face and not the way her nipples have hardened against her thin shirt. "Your body is going into heat. It wants to mate."

"Heat? Like an animal?" Her eyes flash with anger through the haze of arousal. "I'm not an animal."

"Neither am I," I growl, then immediately regret my tone when she flinches. "Sorry. But this is natural for our kind. Your body is preparing itself to bond with an Alpha."

"I don't want to bond with anyone!" She presses her palms against her eyes. "Make it stop."

"I can't." I stand up, needing distance from her scent. "I'm going to get you some water. Try to... try to stay calm."

I escape to her kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter so hard I hear the laminate crack. My cock is painfully hard, straining against my jeans. Her scent follows me, growing stronger by the minute. I grab a glass from her cabinet and fill it with cold water, trying to focus on the simple task and not the primal need to return to her side.

When I walk back into the living room, I nearly drop the glass.

Dahlia has stripped down to her bra and panties, her clothes scattered on the floor. Her skin glistens with sweat, and her dark curls stick to her neck and forehead. The black lace of her underwear stands out against her pale skin, and I can see the wet spot forming between her thighs.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, my mouth going dry.

"It's so hot," she moans, arching her back. "I can't stand it."

I set the water down on the coffee table with a shaking hand. "You need to put your clothes back on."

"No." She kicks them further away. "Everything hurts. My skin is on fire."

I force myself to look away, but her scent is everywhere, clouding my judgment. "Drink the water. I'll get a cool rag and a bowl of water. It might help bring your temperature down."

"Hurry," she whispers, her hands moving restlessly over her stomach.

I practically run to the bathroom, turning on the cold tap and filling a bowl. I grab a washcloth and soak it, wringing it out before heading back. I need to keep it together. She doesn't understand what's happening to her body. Taking advantage would make me no better than the animals humans think we are.

"This will help," I say, more to convince myself than her. "Just try to—"

The words die in my throat.

Dahlia lies completely naked on the couch, her bra and panties now tossed aside. Her hands move over her body. One is pinching and rolling her nipple between her fingers, the other is buried between her thighs. Her back arches off the cushions as her fingers work inside herself. The sound of her wetness is audible in the quiet room.

"Oh fuck," she moans, her eyes closed in pleasure. "It's not enough."

I stand frozen, the bowl clutched in my hands, unable to look away. She adds another finger, fucking herself deeper, her thumb circling her clit. Her thighs tremble, and I can see how wet she is, her arousal is fucking glistening on her fingers and thighs.

My control snaps like a twig.

I drop the bowl, and the water splashes across the hardwood floor. The crash makes her eyes fly open, and she looks directly at me, her fingers never stopping their movement.

"Please," she begs, her voice breaking. "I need... I need..."

A growl tears from my throat, primal and possessive. I stalk toward her, my body moving of its own accord.

I hover over her, my hands braced on either side of her head. Her scent engulfs me, sweet and musky and irresistible. My cock throbs painfully, demanding release.

"Say it again," I demand, my voice barely human. "Beg me."

Her eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide with desire.

"Please," she whispers, reaching up to touch my face. "Please, Onyx. I need you."

I can't hold back anymore. Her plea breaks the last thread of my control.

"Fuck," I growl, lowering my body to hers.

My mouth crashes against hers, swallowing her gasp. Her lips are soft and hot, and she opens immediately for me. I slide my tongue against hers, tasting her desperation. She moans into my mouth, her hands clutching at my shoulders, pulling me closer.

I break away to kiss down her jaw and neck, breathing in her scent directly from the source. My teeth graze the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, and she arches against me.

"Oh god," she pants, digging her nails into my back through my shirt.

"Not god," I murmur against her skin. "Just me."

Her laugh turns into a moan as I move lower, trailing kisses between her breasts. I cup one in my hand, feeling its weight, then I brush my thumb across her hardened nipple. She whimpers, pushing her chest up, begging without words.

I take her nipple into my mouth, sucking hard. Her back bows off the couch, and she cries out, her hands flying to my hair to hold me against her. I flick my tongue over the sensitive peak, then graze it with my teeth.

"More," she demands.

I move to her other breast, giving it the same attention while my hand continues to knead the first. Her skin tastes like salt and something my wolf recognizes as mine.

"You're so fucking beautiful," I tell her, looking up at her flushed face. Her eyes are half-closed, lips parted, and her hair wild around her head.

My hand slides down her stomach, feeling her muscles jump under my touch. When I reach the apex of her thighs, I find her soaking wet, her arousal coating the insides of her thighs.

"Look how wet you are," I say, circling her entrance with my finger. "All this for me?"

"Yes," she hisses, lifting her hips to chase my touch. "Please, don't tease me."

I slide one finger inside her, and her walls clench around me immediately. She's tight and hot and perfect. I add a second finger, stretching her gently.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," she chants, moving her hips in rhythm with my hand.

I curl my fingers, searching for that spot inside her, and when I find it, her reaction is immediate and intense. Her entire body tenses, her back arching sharply off the couch.

"There!" she cries out. "Right there!"

I press harder, moving my fingers faster, and within seconds, she's coming, her inner walls pulsing around my fingers, her thighs shaking. Her mouth opens in a silent scream as the orgasm tears through her.

"That's it," I encourage her, working her through it. "Let go for me."

She collapses back onto the couch, chest heaving, but I'm not done with her yet. Her scent has intensified, and it's driving my wolf crazy with need. I withdraw my fingers, and she whimpers at the loss.

"Shh," I soothe her. "I'm going to make you feel good again."

I move down her body, settling between her thighs. I spread her legs wider, exposing her completely to my gaze. Her pussy is swollen and shiny, her entrance still clenching from her orgasm.

"Look at this pretty pussy," I murmur, blowing gently on her sensitive flesh. She shivers, and she fists her hands in the couch cushions. "I'm going to taste every inch of you."

"Please," she begs, lifting her hips toward my mouth.

I lower my head and lick a long, slow stripe from her entrance to her clit. Her taste explodes on my tongue. It's sweet and tangy and addictive. I groan against her, the vibration making her gasp.

"You taste so fucking good," I tell her, before diving back in.

I focus on her clit, circling it with my tongue, then sucking it between my lips. Her hands find my hair again, holding me in place as she grinds against my face. I slip two fingers back inside her, pumping in time with my tongue.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she chants, her voice rising in pitch. "I'm going to come again."

I increase the pressure, curling my fingers inside her while sucking harder on her clit. She comes with a scream this time, her thighs clamping around my head. Her pussy squeezes my fingers rhythmically and I work her through it, easing up when she becomes too sensitive.

When I finally lift my head, her eyes are glazed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her body is covered in a sheen of sweat, her hair is plastered to her forehead. She's never looked more beautiful.

"More," she whispers, reaching for me. "I need you inside me."

My cock throbs painfully in my jeans at her words. I stand up and quickly undo my belt, pushing my pants and boxers down just enough to free myself. My cock springs out, hard and ready, the head already leaking with pre-cum.

Dahlia's eyes widen when she sees it, and she licks her lips. "Fuck," she breathes, spreading her legs wider in invitation.

I position myself at her entrance, rubbing the head of my cock through her wetness. She whimpers, trying to push down onto me, but I hold her hips still.

"Are you sure?" I ask, needing to hear it one more time. Even with my control hanging by a thread, I need to know she wants this.

"Yes," she says, looking directly into my eyes. "I need you to fuck me, Onyx. Now."

That's all I need to hear. I push forward, entering her in one slow thrust. We both groan as I fill her completely. She's tight around me, her walls gripping my cock like a vice.

"Fuck, you're so tight," I grit out, fighting the urge to come immediately. "So perfect."

I start moving, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Each stroke sends pleasure shooting up my spine. My wolf howls with satisfaction at finally claiming her.

"Harder," she demands, wrapping her legs around my waist to pull me deeper. "Fuck me harder."

I increase my pace, driving into her with more force. The couch creaks beneath us, but I don't care. All I care about is the woman beneath me, and the way she takes everything I give her and asks for more.

"You like that?" I growl, snapping my hips against hers. "You like my cock filling you up?"

"Yes," she moans, as she rakes her nails down my back. "Don't stop."

I reach between us to rub her clit, and she cries out. I can feel her building toward another orgasm. Her breathing is becoming more erratic, and her moans are higher pitched.

"Come for me again," I command, circling her clit faster. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

Her body obeys, and she shatters around me. Her pussy pulses, milking my cock, and I can't hold back any longer. My orgasm crashes over me, and I pull out just in time to pump myself as I spill onto her belly with a guttural groan.

"Fuck, Dahlia," I grunt as I release, my body shuddering with the force of it.

Chapter 4 – Dahlia

"Fuck, Dahlia," Onyx grunts as he releases, his body shuddering with the force of it.

I'm floating, completely untethered from reality as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. My body feels both hollow and impossibly full at the same time. I've never experienced anything like this, and I'm not even close. It's like every nerve ending in my body has been rewired to experience pleasure at maximum capacity.

When Onyx starts to pull away, I whimper and tighten my legs around him.

"No," I whisper, reaching for him. "Don't go. I still want you."

A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. His eyes glint in the dim light, looking more animal than human.

"I'm not done with you yet," he says, his voice a deep rumble that I feel in my bones. "Not even close."

Before I can respond, he flips me over with startling ease. His hands grip my hips and pull me up until I'm on my knees, my ass is in the air, and my face is pressed against the cushions.

"Oh," I gasp, surprised by the sudden change in position. I've never been handled so effortlessly before.

"Is this…okay?" he asks, his hand running down my spine in a surprisingly gentle caress.

"Yes," I breathe, arching my back to push my ass higher. "Please."

I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance again. Despite already coming twice, I'm still wet and ready for him. My body craves him in a way that defies logic or reason.

"Look at you," he growls, sliding his cock through my folds, teasing me. "So eager for more. Your pretty pussy is dripping for me."

I moan into the cushion. I am beyond embarrassed now. He's right. I am eager, desperate even. This heat burning through me hasn't diminished at all. If anything, it's grown stronger.

"Please," I beg, pushing back against him. "I need you inside me again."

He grips my hips harder, his fingers digging into my flesh as he positions himself. Then with one thrust, he fills me completely.

"Fuck!" I cry out, my fingers clawing at the couch. He feels even deeper in this position, and he is hitting places inside me that make stars burst behind my eyelids.

"Fuck," he groans, holding still for a moment. You feel so fucking good."

Then he starts moving, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Each thrust drives me forward, my breasts dragging against the rough fabric of the couch. The friction against my sensitive nipples adds another layer to the overwhelming sensations.

"You take my cock so well," he says, as he increases his pace. "Like you were made for me."

His words send a thrill through me that I don't want to examine too closely. Right now, all I care about is the delicious friction of his cock sliding in and out of me, the way his hands grip my hips, and the sound of our bodies slapping together.

"Harder," I demand, pushing back to meet his thrusts. "Fuck me harder."

He obliges, pounding into me with such force that I must brace myself against the arm of the couch to keep from being driven forward. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mixed with our heavy breathing and my increasingly loud moans.

"That's it," he encourages. "Let me hear how good I'm making you feel."

"I can't… God…" I gasp, my voice breaking between moans.

"Every time you move, it’s like…I can’t breathe. Please, don’t stop… I need you. I need all of you." I clutch at him.

"You have me. Completely. Do whatever you want…I want it. "He leans over me, his chest pressing against my back as he continues to thrust. His lips find my ear, and he whispers, "You're mine now, Dahlia. My Omega."

Something about those words triggers something primal inside me. My inner walls clench around him, and I feel another orgasm building rapidly.

"I'm close," I pant. "So close."

One of his hands slides around to find my clit, rubbing it in tight circles that match the pace of his thrusts. The dual stimulation is too much.

"Come for me," he growls. "Let me feel that sweet pussy squeeze my cock."

"Oh... fuck, Onyx!" I cry as my body breaks apart. "I’m coming... I can’t stop!" My legs shake uncontrollably beneath him.

"It’s too much...oh God, it’s too much! I feel like I might pass out."

But Onyx doesn't stop. He continues pounding into me through my orgasm, prolonging it until the pleasure borders on pain.

"You're still going? I... I can't... but it feels so good... and it hurts so good." My voice is a mess of moans and breathless pleas.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Fuck no... don’t stop… I don’t want it to stop."

"Again," he growls, his pace becoming almost punishing. "I want to feel you come again."

"I can't," I sob, even as my body responds to his demand. "It's too much."

"You can," he insists, his fingers working my clit. "And you will."

He's right. Despite thinking I couldn't possibly come again, I feel another orgasm building. This one is different. It's deeper, more intense, starting somewhere at my core and radiating outward.

"Oh god," I moan, as the pressure builds. "What's happening to me?"

"You're mine," he repeats, his voice strained as if he's fighting his own release. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," I gasp, the words falling from my lips without thought. "I'm yours, Onyx."

“Oh my God… I’m gonna…” The words rip out of me just before everything explodes. “I’m coming!” I scream, my voice shattering as my body convulses under the force of it. “Shit…I’m so wet, I can’t stop!”

A gush of liquid floods from me, and I cry out again. “Did I just—fuck, I squirted…” I moan, half in shock, half in bliss.

Onyx growls behind me, his grip tightening on my hips. "Fuck...I’m gonna cum," he snarls, voice thick with need.

He pulls out fast, and I gasp at the sudden emptiness. "Stay just like that," he pants, jerking himself hard. "Let me see that perfect ass."

A beat later, he groans out a deep, animalistic sound and hot cum splashes across my lower back and my ass.

"Fuck… look what you do to me." he breathes, voice ragged.

He collapses on top of me, his weight pressing me into the couch, his breath hot against my neck.

"Oh my god," I gasp, collapsing face-first onto the couch.

My entire body feels like jelly, and it's tingling with aftershocks that ripple through me with each breath. I've had orgasms before, but nothing-absolutely nothing-has ever felt like this. It's like every nerve in my body caught fire at once, then melted into pure bliss.

The burning heat that had consumed me is finally subsiding, leaving behind a pleasant warmth that spreads through my limbs.

"You, okay?" Onyx asks.

I can't even form words yet. I just make a sound that's somewhere between a moan and a laugh. My face is still pressed into the couch cushion, and I don't have the energy to move.

"I'll take that as a yes," he chuckles.

The couch shifts as he gets up. I hear him moving around, probably fixing his clothes. I should probably do the same, but my muscles refuse to cooperate. I'm completely spent.

With enormous effort, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. My apartment looks different somehow, like I'm seeing it through new eyes. Or maybe I'm the one who's different now.

"Here," Onyx says, appearing beside me with a glass of water. "Drink this."

I push myself up on shaky arms and take the glass. The cool water feels amazing on my throat, and I drain it in seconds.

"Thank you," I say, my voice coming out hoarse. I must have been louder than I realized.

Onyx takes the empty glass and sets it on the coffee table before collapsing into my reading chair. He looks as exhausted as I feel, his long hair messed up from where I grabbed it, his shirt wrinkled and half-untucked.

"The heat seems to have broken," he says, studying me with those intense amber eyes. "For now, at least."

"For now?" I echo, pulling a throw blanket over my naked body. "You mean this could happen again?"

"Omega heat cycles typically last three to five days," he explains, as if discussing the weather. "The intensity comes in waves."

I let that sink in. Three to five days of this? I'm not sure I'd survive.

"But I'm not..." I start, then stop. After what just happened, I can't exactly deny what I am anymore. "How is this possible? I've been around shifters for years. Why now?"

"Some Omegas don't present until they meet a compatible Alpha," Onyx says. "Or until they're under extreme stress. You've had both tonight."

I laugh, but it comes out bitter. "So, breaking into my apartment and telling me my life is in danger triggered some dormant shifter gene? Great."

"I didn't know this would happen," he says, looking genuinely apologetic. "I suspected you might be a recessive carrier, but I didn't think you'd present so suddenly or so... intensely.

I pull the blanket tighter around me, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "So, what happens now?"

Onyx runs a hand through his hair, looking troubled. "Now we figure out who broke into your lab and why they want your research."

Right. The lab break-in. With everything that happened, I almost forgot about it. Almost.

"And we also need to figure out what's happening to me," I add. "Because I refuse to believe I'm suddenly a shifter after thirty-two years of being completely human."

"You were never completely human," Onyx says. "You just didn't know it yet."

I open my mouth to argue, but I'm interrupted by the buzz of my phone. It's somewhere on the floor, probably fallen out of my pocket when I was tearing off my clothes.

"I'll get it," Onyx says, spotting it under the coffee table.

He bends down to retrieve it, and I can't help but admire the way his jeans stretch across his ass. Even after everything we just did, I still feel a flutter of desire. What is wrong with me?

Onyx straightens up and glances at my phone screen before handing it to me. A small smirk plays on his lips.

"Popular tonight, aren't you?" he says.

I take the phone and see a text message from an unknown number. My heart skips a beat as I read it:

Don't bite more than you can chew.

Chapter 5 – Leo

"Detective Byers, a word."

Captain Raine's voice calls through the bullpen chatter, and I look up from my mountain of paperwork. She's standing in the doorway of her office, face as expressionless as ever. That's never a good sign.

"Yes, Captain." I push back from my desk, ignoring the sympathetic glance from my partner, Rodriguez.

The walk to her office feels longer than usual. I've been on edge since we found another shifter's body yesterday. It's the third one this month with signs of the Crimson Plague. The virus is spreading faster than anyone wants to admit.

Captain Raine closes the door behind me and gestures to the chair across from her desk. I sit, my back straight, and wait.

"I'm reassigning you," she says without preamble.

"Ma'am?" My fingers tighten on the armrests. "I'm in the middle of the Riverside case. We're close to…"

"Rodriguez will handle it." She slides a folder across her desk. "This is your new assignment, effective immediately."

I don't reach for the folder. "What kind of assignment?"

"Protective detail."

My jaw clenches. "I'm not a babysitter, Captain."

"You are whatever this department needs you to be, Detective." Her tone leaves no room for argument. "And right now, we need you to protect Dr. Dahlia Baldwin."

I know that name. Everyone in shifter circles does.

"The geneticist?" I finally pick up the folder. "Why does she need protection?"

“Her lab was broken into last week. All her research on the Crimson Plague was stolen or destroyed." Captain Raine leans back in her chair. "Blackthorn Biotech has requested our best officer for her security detail."

"Blackthorn." I can't keep the contempt from my voice. "Since when do we take orders from Evan Blackthorn?"

"Since he pays half the city's taxes and sits on the police commissioner's board." She narrows her eyes. "I know you have... reservations about scientists, Leo. But this isn't optional."

Reservations. That's one way to put it. Images of Tessa flash through my mind. My sister, hooked up to machines in some lab, studied like a specimen while the Crimson Plague ate her alive from the inside.

"With all due respect, Captain, I'm a homicide detective. Not a bodyguard."

"And she's our best chance at finding a cure for the virus that's killing our kind." Captain Raine's voice softens slightly. "I know about Tessa, Leo. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth might crack. She's playing the Tessa card. And worse, it's working.

"How long?" I ask, already knowing I've lost this fight.

"Indefinite. Until we find who's targeting her." She hands me another file. "Here's the address. She's expecting you within the hour."

I stand, tucking both folders under my arm. "Yes, ma'am."

"And Leo?" she calls as I reach the door. "Try not to scare her. We need her brain intact."

I don't respond. I'm too busy fighting the urge to punch something.

Forty minutes later, I'm standing outside a modest apartment building in the university district, still seething. I've read through Baldwin's file twice. She's a brilliant scientist with multiple degrees and a leading researcher on shifter genetics. She probably also thinks my kind are fascinating lab rats.

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself the way my father taught me. The bear inside me is restless, agitated by my anger, and that is not a good combination.

I press the buzzer for apartment 3B.

"Yes?" A woman replies cautious.

"Dr. Baldwin? Detective Leo Byers, Metro PD. I've been assigned to your protective detail."

Silence. Then: "Come up."

The door buzzes, and I make my way to the third floor. My instincts are on high alert, scanning for threats out of habit. The building seems secure enough, but the locks are basic. Anyone determined could get in.

I knock on 3B, standing to the side out of ingrained caution.

The door opens, and I'm hit with a scent that nearly knocks me backward. Sweet honey and rain. I have to grip the doorframe to steady myself.

Omega.

Dr. Dahlia Baldwin isn't just any scientist. She's a shifter. An Omega.

And she reeks of another Alpha.

I can't help the low growl that escapes me, or the way my nostrils flare as I take in more of her scent, trying to identify the Alpha who's marked her.

"Detective?" Her voice breaks through my haze.

I focus on her face for the first time. She's beautiful. She has wide hazel eyes and full lips, and her light olive skin is glowing even under the harsh hallway lights. Her curly hair is pulled back in a bun, with a few strands escaping to frame her face.

I clear my throat. "Dr. Baldwin."

"Can I see some ID?" She's looking at me with suspicion, one hand still on the door like she might slam it in my face.

I pull out my badge and hold it up. "Detective Leo Byers, Shifter Crimes Division."

She studies it, then me, and her eyes linger on my face for a bit. "Fine. Come in."

I step inside, immediately scanning the apartment for exits, potential weapons, and vulnerabilities. It's neat but lived-in, with books stacked on every surface and a small collection of potted plants by the window. It smells like her but also like another Alpha.

My bear doesn't like that. At all.

"My life is drawing in too many shifters these days," she mutters, closing the door behind me.

I don't respond. I can't trust myself to speak without growling again. Instead, I position myself near the door, cross my arms, and watch as she moves around the apartment.

"We need to leave soon," I finally say, keeping my voice flat. "Mr. Blackthorn has arranged a safe house and lab facility for you."

She stops, turns to face me, and crosses her arms in a mirror of my stance. "And what if I don't want to go to Blackthorn's little hideaway?"

"It's not optional." I check my watch. "You have fifteen minutes to pack what you need. Clothes, toiletries, any personal research materials. Everything else can be replaced."

"Excuse me?" Her eyes flash with anger. "You can't just barge in here and order me around."

"I'm not ordering you around. I'm doing my job." I meet her glare with one of my own. "Someone broke into your lab, destroyed your research, and might be coming for you next. So yes, we're leaving in fifteen minutes."

She opens her mouth, likely to argue more, but something in my expression must convince her I'm serious. With a huff, she turns and stomps toward what I assume is her bedroom.

"Fucking shifters, thinking they can control everything," she grumbles, loud enough for me to hear. "First Onyx, then Evan, now this guy..."

Onyx. Evan. The names ping in my memory. Onyx Stonefang is an Alpha wolf, leader of one of the largest packs in the city. And Evan can only be Evan Blackthorn, the billionaire who's apparently now my boss.

Two Alphas, both circling around this Omega. Just what I need.

I hear drawers opening and closing, the sound of a suitcase being unzipped. At least she's cooperating, even if she's not happy about it.

I take the opportunity to check the apartment more thoroughly. The living room windows face the street which makes it a vulnerable spot. The kitchen on the other hand has a small window over the sink that leads to a fire escape and its potential exit route.

I'm checking the locks on the front door when she emerges from the bedroom with a small duffel bag in her hand.

"I'm ready," she announces, her chin lifted in defiance. "Though I still think this is ridiculous."

"Noted." I take the bag from her, ignoring the spark when our fingers brush. "My car's out front. Stay close to me."

She rolls her eyes but follows me out the door. I position myself slightly in front of her as we walk down the hallway, my senses on high alert. The bear inside me is protective now, despite my personal feelings about scientists. She's an Omega. A rare, vulnerable shifter type that triggers every protective instinct I have.

Even if she does smell like other Alphas.

We make it to my car without incident. It's an unmarked police sedan. I open the passenger door for her, she hesitates, then slides in with a sigh.

“Real subtle ride, officer.”

“It gets the job done,” I mutter, shutting the door behind her. I round the hood and slip into the driver’s seat, still scanning the surroundings. Nothing seems out of place, but my instincts are still on edge.

"It's about a thirty-minute drive to the safe house. Try to relax."

"Relax?" She laughs with a sharp and humorless sound. "I'm being whisked away by a grumpy detective who clearly doesn't want to be here. What's not relaxing about that?"

I pull away from the curb, keeping one eye on the rearview mirror to check for tails. "I'm not grumpy."

"You've barely said ten words to me, and you growled when I opened the door." She turns in her seat to face me. "What's your problem with me, Detective? Did I step on your tail in a past life?"

I grip the steering wheel tighter. "I don't have a tail. I'm a bear, not a wolf."

"Oh, excuse me." Her voice drips with sarcasm. "Did I step on your paw, then?"

I don't answer, focusing on the road instead. The last thing I need is to get into it with her about why I distrust scientists. About Tessa. About how every time I look at a lab coat, I see my sister's face as she died, alone and in pain while doctors took notes.

"Silent treatment. Great." She sighs and turns to look out the window. "This is going to be so much fun."

We drive in silence for a few minutes. I can feel her watching me from the corner of her eye, studying me like I'm one of her specimens. It makes my skin itch.

"So," she finally says, apparently unable to handle the quiet, "how long have you been a detective?"

"Eight years."

"And before that?"

"Patrol officer."

She waits, but I don't elaborate. After a moment, she tries again. "Have you always worked with shifter crimes?"

"Yes."

"Because you're a shifter yourself?"

I flick my eyes to her briefly. "Yes."

"Are all bear shifters this chatty, or is it just you?"

Despite myself, I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. She's persistent, I'll give her that.

"Just me."

She throws up her hands. "He speaks in complete sentences! Alert the media!"

I keep my eyes on the road, but it's getting harder to maintain my stony facade. There's something about her that cuts through my defenses.

"I'm not much for small talk," I finally offer.

"Clearly." She shifts in her seat. "But since we're going to be stuck together for who knows how long, we might as well try to be civil."

"I am being civil."

"This is civil? What does unfriendly look like?"

I don't answer that. She doesn't want to know.

She sighs again, louder this time. "Fine. Be that way. I'm going to close my eyes for a bit. Wake me when we get to prison."

"It's not a prison," I say, but she's already leaning against the window, and closing her eyes.

"We're here."

I pull the car into the long driveway of the safe house. It's a secluded property on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by thick woods and it's perfect for a shifter who might need to transform without prying eyes. The house itself is modest but secure with reinforced windows, top-of-the-line security system, and enough distance from neighbors that screams won't be heard.

Not that I'm expecting screams. But in my line of work, you plan for the worst.

Dr. Baldwin doesn't respond. Her head is still resting against the window, and her eyes are closed. I turn off the engine and study her for a moment. Even in sleep, she looks tense. There's a slight furrow between her brows, and her breathing seems shallow.

"Dr. Baldwin," I say, reaching over to gently shake her shoulder. "We've arrived."

She doesn't stir. I frown and lean closer.

"Dahlia?"

The moment I get near her, I'm hit with her scent again but now it's hotter, more urgent. Literal heat is radiating off her skin.

I press the back of my hand to her forehead and nearly jerk away. She's burning up.

"Shit."

Her eyes flutter open, unfocused and glassy. "What's happening?"

"You're running a fever." I keep my voice calm despite the alarm bells going off in my head. "Can you walk?"

She nods weakly and tries to sit up straighter, but sways. I quickly exit the car and circle around to her side, opening her door and offering my arm.

"Lean on me," I say.

She doesn't argue, which tells me how bad she must be feeling. As she stands, her legs wobble, and I catch her around the waist. Her body is like a furnace against mine.

"Sorry," she mumbles, clutching my jacket. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

I do. I can smell it now, unmistakable and overwhelming. She's in heat.

My bear stirs, suddenly very awake and interested. I grit my teeth and force it down. This is not the time.

"Let's get you inside,"

I half-carry her to the front door, fumbling with the keys while trying to keep her upright. Her head lolls against my shoulder, and her breath comes in short pants that tickle my neck. Every exhale sends a jolt down my spine.

Focus, Byers. You're a professional.

I finally get the door open and guide her inside, kicking it closed behind us. The house is cool and dark, pre-stocked with basic supplies. I head straight for the master bedroom, the bear in me insisting she needs a safe, comfortable space.

"Almost there," I tell her as we make our way down the hallway. "Just a few more steps."

"Everything hurts," she whispers, and the pain in her voice cuts through me. "Why does it hurt?"

I don't answer. I'm trying so hard to maintain control. The scent of an Omega in heat is designed by nature to drive Alphas crazy, to trigger our most basic instincts. And right now, those instincts are screaming at me to claim her, mark her, and make her mine.

We reach the bedroom, and I guide her to the king-sized bed. She collapses onto it with a soft moan that sends another wave of heat through my body. I need to get away from her. Now.

"I'll get you some water," I say, already backing toward the door. "And something for the fever."

"Wait." Her hand shoots out and grabs mine, her grip surprisingly strong for someone who could barely walk a minute ago. "Don't leave me."

I almost drop her hand like it's burned me. Maybe it has. My skin tingles where she touches me, and the bear inside roars its approval.

"Please," she says, looking up at me with those hazel eyes, now dark with need. "Help me, make it stop."

Chapter 6 – Dahlia

Iknow what's happening to me. Onyx had warned me about this - that an Omega heat could last for days. After that night with him, the burning had subsided, and I'd foolishly thought it was over. I'd been relieved, because I was barely understanding what was happening to my body, and why I was reacting so intensely to every Alpha within spitting distance.

But now it's back with a vengeance, and I'm trapped in a safe house with another Alpha - one who clearly doesn't want to be near me but whose scent is driving me wild, nonetheless.

Leo stands frozen, his large hand still caught in mine. I can see the battle raging behind his eyes. His jaw clenches so tight the muscle jump beneath his stubbles.

"You don't know what you're asking," he growls, but he doesn't pull away. His eyes have darkened from their normal brown to something almost amber.

"I do," I insist, tugging him closer. "I'm in heat okay. I'm a fucking Omega. And that bastard Onyx told me this might happen again."

His nostrils flare at the mention of Onyx's name. "Stonefang was with you during your first heat?"

"Yes," I admit, not seeing any point in lying. Not when my body's betraying me so completely.

Leo growls again, deeper this time. The sound reverberates through me, settling low in my belly and making my thighs clench together. God, why does that sound affect me so much?

"You shouldn't be around another Alpha so soon," he says, even as he moves closer, and sits on the edge of the bed. "Your body needs time to adjust."

"My body disagrees," I pant, reaching for him. "Please, Detective… Leo. I feel like I'm..."

I can't finish the sentence. The words feel foreign on my tongue. How do I tell this stranger that I need him inside me? That my body is screaming for him to claim me? That I'm so wet I can feel it soaking through my jeans?

"You're not thinking clearly," Leo says, but he doesn't pull his hand away.

"My mind is the only clear thing right now," I argue, even as another wave of heat crashes through me, making me arch my back with a gasp. "Everything else is on fire."

His nostrils flare as he takes in my scent, and something in him seems to snap. The control he's been clinging to crumbles, and before I can blink, he's on top of me.

His lips find my neck, pressing hot kisses against my pulse point. I moan, tilting my head to give him better access.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he mutters against my skin, even as his hands tug at my blouse. "This is wrong."

"It doesn't feel wrong," I gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive spot below my ear.

He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod frantically. "Yes, please, just make it stop hurting."

That's all the permission he needs. Leo tugs my shirt over my head, then makes quick work of my bra. The cool air hits my overheated skin, providing momentary relief before his large hands cup my breasts.

"Fuck," he swears, his thumbs brushing over my hardened nipples. "You're so beautiful."

I whimper, arching into his touch. "More. Please, more."

Leo lowers his head, taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue sends a jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. I cry out, threading my fingers through his short hair to hold him against me.

"Yes," I moan as he sucks harder, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. "Just like that."

His hands work at my jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down my legs along with my soaked panties. I kick them away, eager to be free of any barriers between us.

"You're so wet," Leo groans, his fingers sliding through my folds.

"For you," I pant, spreading my legs wider. "I'm dripping only for you."

Two thick fingers push inside me, and I cry out at the delicious stretch. He moves them slowly at first, letting me adjust to the intrusion, then picks up speed as I rock my hips against his hand.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice rough with desire. "Take what you need."

His thumb finds my clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves in time with the thrust of his fingers. The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear. I writhe beneath him, clutching at his shoulders, his arms, and anything I can reach.

"I'm close," I gasp, feeling the pressure building inside me. "So close."

Leo shifts his attention to my other breast, sucking the nipple while his fingers continue their relentless pace. The slight edge of pain when he uses his teeth sends me hurtling over the edge.

"Leo!" I scream, my back arching off the bed as I cum. I clench around his fingers, trying to pull him deeper.

He works me through it, gradually slowing his movements as the aftershocks subside. Only when I collapse back onto the mattress, breathless and trembling, does he withdraw his fingers.

"Better?" he asks, his voice still tight with restraint.

I reach for Leo, sliding my hand up his chest. "It's not enough," I admit.

His eyes darken further, and I can see the bear in them now, watching me with hungry intent.

"Fuck," he growls, and suddenly he's moving down my body.

He grabs pillows from beside me and shoves them under my hips, lifting me up. I barely have time to wonder what he's doing before his face is between my thighs, and his hot tongue laps at my center.

"Oh god!" I jerk at the sudden sensation, my back arching off the bed. It feels so good I could cry.

His tongue is relentless, licking broad strokes through my folds before circling my clit with devastating precision. I grab his head, holding him against me as little noises escape my throat that I barely recognize as my own.

"Don't stop," I beg, trying to push myself harder against his mouth. "Please don't stop."

Leo groans, and the vibration sends new waves of pleasure through me. His large hands grip my hips, holding me firmly in place when I try to squirm and thrust against him. I'm completely at his mercy, and somehow that makes everything more intense.

"Let me move," I whimper, tugging at his hair.

He simply tightens his hold, pressing me deeper into the pillows. His strength is overwhelming. I couldn't break free if I tried, not that I want to. The contrast of his gentle mouth and firm grip makes me dizzy with need.

When his tongue pushes inside me, I nearly scream. He's fucking me with it, mimicking what I desperately want him to do with his cock. My walls clench around nothing, desperate to be filled properly, but the sensation is still mind-blowing.

"Something's happening," I gasp, feeling pressure building deep inside me. It's different from before, more intense, almost frightening in its power. "Leo, I think I'm going to…"

He doubles his efforts, his tongue moving faster as one hand leaves my hip to press against my lower belly. The slight pressure is all it takes to push me over an edge I didn't know existed.

"Leo!" I scream; the sound torn from my throat as pleasure crashes through me. "I'm…I'm coming!" A gush of wetness floods out of me, soaking his face, the sheets… everything. I’m trembling, breathless, completely undone. “What the hell… what did you just do to me?” I gasp between shaky breaths, my body still pulsing with aftershocks.

Leo pulls back just enough to flash a wicked, satisfied grin, but before he can say anything, the bedroom door slams open. Leo is suddenly yanked away from me. I blink through my pleasure haze to see Evan Blackthorn standing there, his normally perfect hair messed up and his expensive suit rumpled. His face is a mask of cold fury as he pulls Leo up by his shirt collar and slams his fist into the detective's jaw.

Leo staggers back, wiping blood from his mouth, a growl building in his chest.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Evan snarls.

I blink, trying to make sense of what’s happening. One second, I was riding the most intense orgasm of my life, and the next, Leo is yanked away from between my thighs.

Before I can even process what’s happening, Leo’s fist connects with Evan’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward.

“Stop it!” I shriek, scrambling to grab the sheet to cover my naked body. “Both of you, stop!”

They ignore me completely. Evan recovers quickly and lunges at Leo, tackling him against the wall with enough force to rattle the framed artwork. Leo grunts but doesn’t go down. Instead, he twists and shoves Evan off him, then lands another punch to his ribs.

“I said STOP!” I yell, wrapping the sheet around me and jumping off the bed. My legs are still wobbly from my orgasm, but adrenaline is pumping through me now. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

Evan wipes blood from his split lip, his eyes never leaving Leo. “I come to check on you and find this… cop with his face buried between your legs.”

“That’s none of your business,” I snap, reaching for my clothes scattered across the floor. I awkwardly try to pull my underwear on under the sheet.

“It is my business when I’m paying for your protection, not your seduction,” Evan spits.

Leo growls, a deep rumbling sound that makes the hair on my arms stand up. “You don’t own her, Blackthorn.”

“You’re fired,” Evan says coldly. “Get out.”

I manage to get my jeans on and drop the sheet to pull my shirt over my head. “No one is firing anyone,” I say firmly. “This is ridiculous.”

Both men turn to look at me, seeming almost surprised to be reminded I’m still in the room. The tension between them is thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Leo,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Could you please excuse us for a moment?”

Leo hesitates, his eyes darting between me and Evan. “Are you sure you’re okay with him?”

“She’s fine,” Evan snaps. “Get the fuck out.”

Leo ignores him, keeping his eyes on me. I nod, though I’m not entirely sure I want to be alone with either of them right now.

“I’ll be right outside the door,” Leo says finally, giving Evan one last warning glare before leaving the room.

As soon as the door closes, Evan starts pacing like a caged animal. His usual composed demeanor is completely shattered.

“You just met him,” he says, running a hand through his usually perfect hair. “Why the fuck did you let him touch you like that?”

“I am in heat,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest.

Evan stops pacing abruptly. “You are what?”

“In heat,” I repeat. “Apparently, I’m an Omega. Surprise.”

He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What does that even mean? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, Evan,” I sigh, suddenly exhausted. “And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“An Omega?” He looks genuinely shocked as he sinks down onto the edge of the bed. “How didn’t I know? You’re supposed to have a pheromone. I should have been able to smell it."

I shrug, leaning against the dresser. “From what I understand, I was dormant until recently. Look, I barely know what’s happening to my own body. I’ve been celibate for as long as I can remember and now sex is all I can think about and all I need. So, I really don't need these accusations right now.”

Evan’s expression softens slightly. “I’m sorry. I was just…” He trails off.

“Pissed?” I supply.

“Yeah.” He runs a hand over his face. “Seeing you with him like that… it triggered something in me.”

“What are you even doing here, Evan?” I ask, changing the subject. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I arranged this safe house, remember?” He straightens his tie, trying to regain some composure. “I wanted to welcome you, make sure you settled in okay. I didn’t expect to find… that.”

I feel heat creep up my neck at the memory of how he found me. “Well, now that you’ve confirmed I’m here, you can leave.”

A small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Are you embarrassed, Dr. Baldwin? Because I’ve watched people fuck before, so you don’t have to worry.” His voice drops lower. “Though I would have preferred to be the one fucking you.”

“Fuck you!” I snap, marching over and shoving his shoulders hard.

Evan laughs, grabbing my wrists to stop me from hitting him again. The contact sends a jolt through me that I desperately try to ignore.

“Let go of me,” I demand, though my voice lacks conviction.

“Make me,” he challenges, his blue eyes darkening.

I’m about to tell him exactly where he can shove his smug attitude when movement outside the window catches my eye. I turn my head, and my heart stops.

A face is peering in at us through the glass, pale and distorted.

I scream.

Chapter 7 - Evan

I'm on my feet before her scream even finishes, and I yank Dahlia behind me and face the window. My heart hammers against my ribs as I spot it a grotesque face pressed against the glass; its features twisted in a way that's not quite human.

"What the fuck?" I push Dahlia further back.

The bedroom door crashes open as Detective Boy Scout barrels in, gun already drawn. "Get away from the windows!" he shouts.

"No shit," I snap, keeping my body between Dahlia and whatever's out there.

The thing starts banging its head against the glass like actual fucking head-banging like some deranged metal fan. With each impact, spider web cracks spread across the supposedly reinforced window. So much for my security upgrades.

"It's trying to get in," Dahlia whispers behind me as she digs her fingers into my arm.

"Not happening," I growl, scanning the room for a weapon. I'm only half-shifter, but right now, my wolf side is howling for blood.

Byers is already moving toward the window, his gun aimed at the creature. "I'm going outside. Lock this door behind me."

"Leo, no!" Dahlia calls after him, but he's already gone.

I turn to her, gripping her shoulders. "Stay here. Lock the door."

"But…"

"For once in your life, just do what you're told!" I snap, then immediately regret my tone when I see her flinch. "Please," I add.

She nods, and I sprint after Byers, slamming the bedroom door behind me. I hear the lock click as I race through the house and out the front door, circling around to the side where the bedroom window is.

I arrive just in time to see Byers tackle the creature to the ground. It's a man or was once. His body convulses unnaturally, limbs bending at impossible angles as he struggles. His face is covered in blood from repeatedly smashing it against the window, but what stops me cold is the partial transformation happening across his body. Patches of fur sprout from his skin, then recede, only to appear elsewhere. His jaw elongates into a snout, then snaps back to human form.

The Crimson Plague. It has to be.

Byers has him pinned, but the infected shifter is strong. He bucks and writhes, nearly throwing the detective off. I rush forward, grabbing the creature's legs as they kick wildly.

"Hold him down!" Byers shouts, his forearm pressed against the man's throat.

The infected shifter howls and then snaps his teeth at Byers' face, missing by inches. His eyes are blood-red, and his pupils are dilated to pinpoints.

"We need to end this," I say, watching as Byers pulls a knife from his boot with his free hand.

"No! Stop!" Dahlia's calls out from behind us. Of course she didn't stay put.

"Get back inside!" I yell, not taking my eyes off the thrashing creature.

"Don't kill him!" She's running toward us, barefoot across the lawn. "We need him alive!"

"He's too far gone," Byers argues, knife poised. "Look at him…"

"That's exactly why we need him!" Dahlia kneels beside us, her face flushed with excitement despite the danger. "He's the perfect test subject. I can study how the virus affects his transformation, maybe even develop a treatment!"

"Are you insane?" I stare at her in disbelief. "This thing just tried to break into your bedroom by smashing its face through a window!"

"And now he's subdued," she counters. "This is a research opportunity we can't waste. I'm supposed to find a cure, remember? This is my chance to understand what the virus is doing firsthand."

The infected shifter bucks again, nearly throwing us off. His skin ripples as another partial shift tries to take hold.

"We need to decide now," Byers grunts, struggling to maintain his grip.

I lock eyes with Dahlia. Her expression is pleading but determined. This brilliant, stubborn woman is going to be the death of me.

"Fine," I concede. "But if he so much as twitches wrong once we get him inside, I'm ending him myself."

Relief washes over her face. "Thank you."

Byers looks at me like I've lost my mind. "You can't be serious. This is too dangerous."

"He's restrained now," I argue. "And between the two of us, we can handle one infected shifter."

"And when he wakes up?" Byers challenges.

"He won't be a problem," I say with more confidence than I feel.

Byers snorts. "Right. And I should trust what you say? Why? When you literally told us this was a fucking safe house'… I see how very secure it is."

My jaw clenches. "This place has state-of-the-art security. I don't know how this fucker got past it, but I guarantee it won't happen again."

"You guarantee a lot of things," he mutters, but finally sheathes his knife.

We haul the now-unconscious shifter to his feet. He's stopped convulsing for the moment, but his skin still ripples occasionally.

"Where are we taking him?" Byers asks, supporting most of the man's weight.

"The lab," I answer, nodding toward the house. "In the basement."

Dahlia's eyes widen. "There's a lab here?"

"I told you I'd give you everything you need," I remind her, unable to keep the smugness from my voice. "Follow me."

I lead them back into the house and to a door of the kitchen that opens to a staircase. At the bottom, I punch a code into a keypad, and steel doors slide open to reveal a fully equipped research laboratory.

Dahlia gasps beside me, and I can't help the surge of pride that rushes through me.

"This is... incredible," she breathes, taking in the gleaming equipment, the computer stations, the medical supplies.

"Only the best for you, Dr. Baldwin," I say, enjoying the wonder on her face.

"Put him there," she directs, pointing to an examination table in the center of the room.

Byers and I maneuver the infected shifter onto the table. His body is heavy, dead weight now that he's unconscious.

"There are restraints built into the table," I tell them, pulling out thick leather straps from underneath. "Military grade. He won't be able to break these."

We secure his arms and legs, then add an extra strap across his chest for good measure. His breathing is shallow but steady, and blood still oozes from the wounds on his forehead.

"I need to clean those cuts," Dahlia says, already moving toward a cabinet that - yes, she guessed correctly, contains medical supplies.

"I'll do it," Byers offers, taking the antiseptic and gauze from her hands. "You shouldn't get too close until we know more about how this virus transmits."

She looks like she wants to argue but nods instead. "Fine. But I need blood samples. And tissue samples. And…"

"Slow down," I interrupt. "Let's make sure he's secure first. Then you can play mad scientist all you want."

She shoots me with a glare that could melt steel. "I'm not 'playing' anything. This is serious research that could save lives."

"I know," I say, softer. "That was a poor choice of words."

She seems surprised by my concession, and she raises her eyebrows slightly before she turns away to prep her equipment.

The detective hovers nearby, and the uneasy truce between us hangs by a thread. I'm still fighting the urge to punch him again for touching what feels inexplicably like mine.

A low groan from the examination table interrupts my murderous thoughts.

"He's waking up," I warn, moving closer to Dahlia.

The shifter on the table starts to stir, his eyes fluttering open. The moment he realizes he's restrained; he begins thrashing against the leather straps.

Boy Scout whips out his knife faster than I can blink and positions himself between the table and Dahlia.

"Where am I?" the man croaks, voice raw like he's been screaming for hours. "What's happening?"

Dahlia steps forward, but I catch her arm, pulling her back.

"Don't," I mutter. "We don't know what he's capable of."

She shakes off my grip with an irritated huff. "You just said he can't break those restraints."

"I'd rather not test that theory with your pretty neck in biting range," I reply.

She rolls her eyes but stays put. "We're not trying to hurt you," she says to the man. "You appeared at my window and tried to break in. Do you remember anything?"

The man stares at her. "Break in? No, that's impossible. I wouldn't..." His gaze darts around the lab. "I need to go home. My wife, my kids…"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Leo asks, knife still ready.

"I was... walking. Just taking a stroll after dinner." The man's brow furrows. "Then I smelled something... something incredible. Like nothing I've ever experienced before. I needed to find it, to have it. After that... nothing."

My stomach drops. He probably smelled Dahlia in her heat. That's what drew him here.

"Where do you live?" Leo questions.

"Pinewood Estates. 437 Maple Drive. Please let me go, my family will be worried sick."

I exchange glances with Leo. That's less than a mile from here.

"We can't let you go," I say

"What? Why the hell not?" The man yanks against his restraints.

"You're infected with the Crimson Plague," I explain. "You could harm your family or others without meaning to."

His face drains of color. Then he snarls. "No. That's not... I can't be…. You're lying! Let me out of these fucking straps!"

As his anger spikes, the transformation begins again. Patches of fur sprout along his arms, his teeth elongate into fangs, then retract, then grow again. His eyes flash between human and beast.

"Jesus Christ," Leo mutters, tightening his grip on the knife.

The man howls in pain, his back arching off the table as his bones crack and reshape themselves. The restraints groan under pressure, but they hold.

"Let me go!" he screams. His voice distorts between human and animal. "LET ME GO!"

Leo steps forward and brings the hilt of his knife down hard against the man's temple. The shifter slumps, and he is unconscious once more.

Silence falls over the lab, and the only sound is our heavy breathing.

"Well," I finally say, "that was enlightening."

Dahlia moves to the table, checking the man's pulse. "His heart rate is elevated but stable."

"Did you notice what he said?" Leo asks, sheathing his knife. "He smelled something that drew him here."

I nod. "He smelled her."

Dahlia looks between us. "Me? I brought him here?"

"It's the only explanation," Leo confirms. "He lives nearby, caught your scent on the wind, and couldn't fight the instinct to find you."

"But he's married with children," she argues. "Wouldn't that... I don't know, give him some immunity?"

I laugh, "Darling, when an alpha catches the scent of an Omega in heat, nothing else matters. Not marriage, not morals, nothing."

"That's barbaric," she whispers.

"Well…" I shrug "Except he's not an alpha though."

"So, the virus doesn't just cause unstable transformations, it heightens their response to smell."

"Bingo," I confirm.

"This changes everything," she mutters. "I need to adjust my approach entirely."

"How so?" Leo asks.

A phone rings before she can respond. Dahlia frowns, patting her pockets before locating her cell.

"It's Emily," she says, glancing at the screen.

"Don't answer it."

She doesn’t even look at me. “It’s my best friend. I’ll be quick.”

“Hey Em.”

“Oh my God, are you alive? Did the sexy detective eat you or what? I’ve been texting you for hours!”

I hear Emily’s cherry voice from where I stand.

“Sorry. It’s been… a night,” Dahlia mutters, glancing at the unconscious shifter strapped to the table.

“Well, good, because you need a night. Guess what?”

“What?”

“I got us VIP passes to Exedra… you know, the Axl-freaking-Valentine’s band. Front row and we get access to the after-party and fan sign. We’re going.”

“Wait, what?” Dahlia perks up. “Seriously?”

“Yes… it cost me an arm and a leg, but you need this, and you’ve been dying to go for ages.”

I grit my teeth. “What now?”

“It’s a concert,” she says.

“No.”

She keeps talking like I didn’t just speak. “We’re going to Exedra. Emily got us VIP passes to the concert and it’s Axl Valentine… the rockstar.”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s The Rolling Stones resurrected,” I snap. “You’re not going.”

She turns to me with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “I am.”

“This is insane. There was an infected shifter trying to bust through your bedroom window tonight. You’re not going club-hopping while half the supernatural world is hunting you.”

She looks at me for a while and she turns back to the phone. “I’m in, Em.”

Chapter 8 - Axl

Idrum my fingers against the dressing room couch, watching my band members around me. Same shit, different city. Derek's flipping his drumsticks in the air while Marcus tunes his guitar for the fifth time. Our bassist, Luke, is already three shots deep.

"Fifteen minutes, boys!" Our manager, Rita, pokes her head in with her clipboard clutched to her chest like it contains state secrets. "And remember, there's a VIP meet-and-greet after the show party. No skipping out this time, Axl."

I give her a lazy salute. "I wouldn't dream of it."

As soon as she leaves, Derek snorts. "How many hot chicks will be in the VIP section tonight? I need to know if I should save my energy."

"Does it matter? They'll all be in your bed by morning anyway," I respond with my trademark smirk, though lately the endless parade of groupies has started to feel hollow.

Marcus catches my eye in the mirror. He's known me since we were fourteen and stealing cigarettes behind the school gym. "What's up with you lately, man? You haven't been yourself."

"I just need a new challenge," I run a hand through my hair. "Maybe I'll try singing upside down tonight. It will blow their minds."

He doesn't laugh. "I'm serious. You've been... I don't know. Different. Distracted."

"I'm fine," I mutter, and turn on my phone to check it. I have seventeen new messages. Three from women I barely remember meeting. I toss it aside without responding.

My stylist comes in to fuss with my hair, and applying the black eyeliner that's become my signature look. I stare at my reflection and see my wild blonde hair. My eyes are lined in kohl, and my wolf tattoo is peeking from beneath my collar. This is Axl Valentine, the rock God. The guy who sells out arenas and makes women scream his name.

So why do I feel so fucking empty?

"Two minutes!" Rita calls.

We huddle together and place our arms around our shoulders in a circle. It's a pre-show ritual and it makes whatever bullshit going on in my head disappear.

"Let's melt some faces," I growl.

The moment we step onto the stage, thousands of people start screaming, and reaching for us. I grab the microphone, and just like that, I'm home.

"Hello, beautiful people," I purr into the mic, and the crowd goes wild. "Are you ready to get fucking crazy tonight?"

We launch into our opener, and I lose myself in the music. This is what I was born to do. Every cell in my body knows it. I stalk across the stage, drop to my knees during the guitar solo, let the energy of the crowd feed something primal inside me.

Halfway through our biggest hit, my eyes land on a lady in the VIP section front row. While everyone around her is jumping, screaming, her eyes are closed, and her body is swaying to the music like she's in a trance. Her curly hair forms a wild halo around her face, and even from here, I can see she's gorgeous.

Something about her calls to me and it pulls at something deep in my chest.

I find myself moving to her side of the stage and singing directly to her. When she finally opens her eyes and looks at me, the jolt that goes through my body is so intense I nearly miss a line. Her gaze locks with mine, and for a moment, the rest of the arena disappears.

What the fuck was that?

I tear my eyes away, forcing myself to work the rest of the stage, but I keep coming back to her. By the end of the set, I'm not even trying to hide it. I'm performing for her, watching her reactions, and feeding off her energy in a way I've never experienced before.

When we finish the encore, I'm practically vibrating with an unfamiliar urgency.

"Dude, you were on fire tonight," Marcus says as we towel off backstage.

"Yeah," I mutter, already thinking about the meet-and-greet. Will she be there? What's her name? Why can't I get her face out of my head?

I rush through my post-show routine, barely bothering to change my sweat-soaked shirt before heading to the VIP lounge. Rita gives me a surprised look as I brush past her.

"Someone's eager tonight,"

"I'm just being professional," I reply, looking around the room as we enter.

She's there, hanging back near the bar with another woman. She's even more stunning up close. Her olive skin glows under the lights, she has full lips, and eyes that seem to change color when she moves. She's not dressed like the typical groupies in their barely-there outfits. She's wearing jeans and a vintage band tee that hugs curves I immediately want to explore with my hands.

I force myself to go through the motions with the other fans, signing autographs, taking selfies, giving the occasional hug. But my attention keeps drifting to her. She doesn't push forward like the others, just watches with an amused expression while her friend practically bounces with excitement.

Finally, they approach me. The friend, a petite with bright eyes and a ponytail, thrusts an album at me.

"Oh my god, I've been to twelve of your shows and this was absolutely the best one yet, you were amazing, I can't believe I'm actually meeting you!" she gushes in one breath.

I smile and sign her album. "Thanks for coming out. Twelve shows? You sure are dedicated."

"I'm Emily," she says, then nudges the curly-haired woman forward. "And this is Dahlia. She's never seen you live before; can you believe it?"

Dahlia. It fits her perfectly.

"First timer, huh?" I say, meeting her eyes. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"More than I expected," she answers, her voice lower and richer than I imagined.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" I ask.

"Best bet it's a compliment" She hands me her album to sign. "You're different on stage than I expected."

Our fingers brush as I take it, and holy shit, it's like touching a live wire. From the slight widening of her eyes, I know she felt it too.

"Different how?" I uncap my Sharpie without taking my eyes off her.

"I've never been to a concert before, but I've never felt this energy from any performer before."

"Music's the only thing worth feeling sometimes. It's my escape I guess."

She tilts her head and studies me. "Is that why you do that thing where you close your eyes during the bridge of every song, to feel it more?"

I freeze. No one has ever noticed that before.

"You were watching me pretty closely,"

"You were watching me too," she counters with the hint of a smile playing at her lips.

Behind her, Emily's eyes bounce between us like she's watching a tennis match.

"Maybe I was," I admit, handing the album back. This time, I deliberately let our fingers linger. "There's an after-party in an hour. You should come. Both of you," I add, glancing at Emily.

Emily squeaks, and Dahlia raises an eyebrow.

"Is that your standard line for pretty girls in the VIP section?"

"No," I say truthfully. "Usually, I don't invite fans at all."

"Why us, then?"

"Because you're the first person who's made me curious in a very long time."

She studies me for a moment, then nods. "Okay."

"Okay?" I repeat, surprised by how easily she agreed.

"We'll come to your party." She takes Emily's arm. "See you there, rock star."

As they walk away, I realize I'm grinning like an idiot. Marcus sidles up beside me.

"Who was that?" he asks, watching them leave.

"Trouble," I answer. "Definitely trouble."

My penthouse is packed by the time they arrive by my band members, industry people, and beautiful hangers-on. I've been watching the door like a teenager waiting for his prom date and nursing the same whiskey for an hour.

When Dahlia walks in, the entire room shifts. Or maybe that's just my perception. She's changed into a simple black dress that hugs every curve, her wild hair is now partially pinned up to expose the elegant line of her neck. Emily bounces in behind her, already wide-eyed at the celebrity-studded room.

I make my way to them, ignoring the people trying to get my attention.

"You came," I say, stopping in front of her.

"I said I would." She glances around. "You have a very nice place. Very... rock star."

"What were you expecting? Skulls and pentacles?"

"At minimum," she deadpans. "I'm disappointed by the lack of goat sacrifices."

I laugh, delighted by her dry humor. "The night's still young."

Emily tugs on Dahlia's arm. "Oh my god, is that Maxin over there? I'm going to die."

"Go," Dahlia encourages her. "I'll be fine."

As Emily darts off into the crowd, I take the opportunity to move closer to Dahlia. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Just water for now," she says. "I need a clear head tonight."

"Are you expecting trouble?"

"Always." She pulls out her phone, checks it, then puts it away with a frown.

"Waiting for an important call?" I ask, leading her toward the bar.

"Something like that."

I signal the bartender for water and another whiskey. "Boyfriend?"

She snorts. "No. Work."

"What kind of work has you checking your phone at midnight?"

"The complicated kind." She accepts the water with a nod of thanks. "I'm a geneticist and a specialist in rare genetic mutations."

"A scientist… That's... not what I expected."

"Let me guess. You thought I was a model? An actress?"

"Honestly? I had no idea. You don't fit any box I'm familiar with."

She takes a sip of water, watching me over the rim of her glass. "And you're used to women fitting into neat little boxes?"

"Touché." I clink my glass against hers. "So, genetics. That's why you're so observant. You're trained to notice details."

"Maybe I'm just interested in what makes people tick." Her eyes drift to my neck, where my tattoo peeks out. "You're a fan?"

I touch the ink reflexively. "You could say that. Wolves are... special to me."

"Is it a family totem?"

"Something like that." I don't elaborate because I can't exactly tell her it's because I am a werewolf. Geneticist or not, not everyone is acceptive and receptive about the shifter race. "What about you, got any ink?"

"One piece." She touches her right hip through her dress. "It's nothing fancy."

The thought of her tattoo, hidden beneath that dress, sends heat rushing through me. I want to see it. I want to trace it with my fingers, and my tongue.

Christ, what is happening to me? I've been around beautiful women my entire adult life. Why is this one turning me inside out?

"It's getting stuffy in here," I say, nodding toward the balcony doors. "Want some fresh air?"

Dahlia glances at the crowded room where her friend Emily is now taking selfies with our drummer. "Sure. Lead the way."

I guide her through the throng of partygoers, my hand hovering near the small of her back without quite touching her.

The night air is cool and refreshing after the heat of the packed penthouse. The city lights stretch out before us like a glittering carpet beneath a velvet sky.

"Wow," she breathes, moving to the railing. "This view is incredible."

"It's one of the perks of the job," I join her, leaving a small distance between us. "Though honestly, most nights I don't even notice it."

"That's sad," she turns to look at me. "A view like this should never become invisible."

"Maybe I just needed the right person to see it with."

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile she tries to hide. "Do lines like that actually work for you?"

"I don't know. Is it working?" I grin, leaning my hip against the railing.

"Not even a little bit,"

"Then I'll have to try harder." I take a sip of my whiskey. "So, Dr. Dahlia, what does a geneticist do at rock concerts?"

"The same thing everyone else does. Listen to music, drink overpriced beer, watch the hot guy on stage."

"Hot guy, huh?" I raise an eyebrow. "Anyone I know?"

Your ego doesn't need the boost."

"My ego is perfectly healthy, thank you very much."

"I can see that." She gestures to the penthouse behind us. "All these screams 'modest and humble.'"

"Hey, I earned every square foot of this place," I defend myself, though I'm not actually offended. "I was playing dive bars for tips five years ago."

"That's impressive. How did you get started?"

"My brother and I used to play on street corners after our parents died. Music was the only thing that kept us going." I don't know why I'm telling her this. I never talk about my past with strangers.

"I'm sorry about your parents," she says quietly.

I shrug, uncomfortable with her sympathy. "That's ancient history. What about you? How does someone become a geneticist?"

"By being a massive nerd who'd rather dissect frogs than go to prom."

"Somehow I doubt that was your only option for prom night."

She smiles. "Let's just say I've always been more comfortable with test tubes than people."

"And yet here you are, at a party full of strangers."

"Here I am," she agrees. "Talking to the last person I expected to connect with tonight."

The air between us shifts, and I move closer, drawn to her like a magnet.

"What did you expect?"

"I expected the typical rock star. Arrogant. Self-absorbed. Living for the spotlight."

"And now?"

She tilts her head, studying me like I'm one of her science experiments. "Now I'm not sure what to think. You're... different."

"Different good or different bad?"

"Just different." I'm so close that I can smell her perfume. It can't be a pheromone unless she's an omega. Is she? "There's something about you that doesn't fit the image you project on stage."

"Maybe that's just the image you had in your head."

"Maybe." Her eyes drop to my mouth for a split second before returning to mine. "Or maybe you're just very good at hiding."

I swallow hard. No one has ever seen through me so quickly. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

"What if I don't want to hide?" I close the distance between us. "Not tonight and not with you."

She doesn't back away. "Then don't."

That's all the invitation I need. I lean in, giving her time to pull back if she wants to. She doesn't. Instead, she meets me halfway, and when our lips touch, the world falls away.

The kiss starts soft but quickly deepens as she makes a small sound in the back of her throat that drives me wild. Her lips are soft and full, and she tastes like mint. I cup her face with one hand and angle her head to deepen the kiss.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.

"Fuck," I rest my forehead against hers. "I want you… Can I fuck you?"

"Yes," she nods. Her eyes are dazed and hungry.

I take her hand and lead her back inside through the crowd toward the hallway that leads to my private rooms. My heart pounds a rhythm in my chest that is more urgent than any drumbeat I've ever played to.

The hallway seems endless, but finally, we reach my room, and I take her into the bathroom for added privacy.

I close the door behind us, and the music from the party becomes a distant thump. My bathroom is massive, with a walk-in shower, soaking tub, and double vanity.

"Is this, okay?" I ask, suddenly worried she'll think this is tacky or desperate.

Her answer is to pull me down for another kiss. Her hands tangle in my hair, tugging slightly.

I back her up against the vanity, my hands roaming her curves through her dress. She arches into my touch, making soft noises that drive me crazy.

"God, you're gorgeous," I mutter against her neck, as I trail kisses down to her collarbone.

"Less talking, more doing," she commands, and I can't help but laugh.

"Bossy. I like it."

I lift her onto the vanity top, stepping between her legs as they part for me. Her dress rides up her thighs, revealing smooth light olive skin I immediately want to taste.

Her hands find the buttons on my shirt, fumbling slightly in her eagerness. I help her, shrug it off and toss it aside. Her eyes widen as she takes in my tattoos, she traces the wolf that covers my left pectoral.

"It's beautiful," she whispers.

I capture her mouth again, as I find the zipper of her dress. "May I?"

She nods, lifting slightly to help me pull the dress over her head. Underneath, she's wearing a black lace bra and matching panties that make my mouth go dry.

"Fuck, look at you," I breathe, taking in the sight of her. Her curves are lush and perfect.

I lower my head to press kisses along the tops of her breasts, reveling in the way her breath catches. When I reach behind her to unclasp her bra, she arches her back to help me.

Her breasts spill free, full and perfect with dark nipples already hard and begging for attention. I cup them in my hands, feeling their weight before lowering my mouth to take one nipple between my lips.

She gasps, her head falling back as I suck and lick, using just enough teeth to make her moan. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, and her nails dig in slightly.

"The other one," she pants, and I happily oblige, giving her other breast the same treatment while my hand slides up her inner thigh.

When I reach the edge of her panties, I look up at her. "Yes?"

"God, yes," she moans.

I slide my fingers beneath the lace, finding her already wet and ready. The knowledge that she wants this as badly as I do makes me throb against the confines of my jeans.

I stroke her slowly, and when I circle her clit, she jerks and cries out.

"You're sensitive," I note with a grin.

"Shut up," she gasps.

I drop to my knees in front of her, hooking my fingers in the waistband of her panties. She lifts her hips, allowing me to slide them down her legs and threw them somewhere.

Now she's completely naked before me, perched on my bathroom vanity, with her curls wild around her flushed face. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

"Spread your legs for me,"

She complies, opening herself to my gaze. Her pussy is perfect, and it's glistening with her arousal. What else could I ask for…

"I'm going to taste you now,"

"Please,"

I lift her legs, and place them over my shoulders as I lean in. The first swipe of my tongue through her folds pulls a moan from both of us. She tastes amazing, sweet and tangy and addictive.

I explore her with my mouth, finding the rhythm and pressure she responds to most. When I suck her clit between my lips, her thighs tighten around my head, and she cries out.

"Oh fuck, Axl!"

Hearing my name on her lips like that spurs me on. I slide two fingers inside her while continuing to work her clit with my tongue. Her pussy clench around my fingers as I curl them to find that spot inside her.

"Right there," she gasps, moving her hips against my face. "Don't stop!"

I have no intention of stopping. I work her relentlessly, adding a third finger and stretching her as I suck harder on her clit. Her moans grow louder, and her body tenses as she approaches the edge.

When she comes, it's with a cry that echoes off the bathroom tiles. Her back arches, her thighs clamp around my head, and her pussy pulses around my fingers. I work her through it, easing up only when she tugs at my hair, too sensitive to continue.

I stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and look down at her sprawled across my vanity. Her chest heaves, her skin glows with a fine sheen of sweat, and her eyes are half-lidded with satisfaction.

"Turn around,"

She blinks, then slides off the vanity on shaky legs. I help her turn, positioning her in front of the large mirror that spans the wall above the sink.

"Look at yourself," I murmur in her ear, standing behind her. "Look how beautiful you are after you come."

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, dark with renewed desire. I reach around to cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers as I press my still-clothed erection against her ass.

"I want to fuck you like this," I brush my lips against her ear. "With you watching in the mirror as I take you from behind."

She nods, pushing back against me. "Yes. Now. Please."

I fumble with my belt and jeans, pushing them down along with my boxers. My cock springs free, hard and aching. I reach into the drawer beside the sink for a condom, tearing it open with my teeth and rolling it on quickly.

Positioning myself at her entrance, I meet her eyes in the mirror again. "Ready?"

"Yes," she breathes, gripping the edge of the vanity.

I push into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to my size. We both moan as I fill her.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," I groan once I'm fully seated inside her.

"Fuck me now!"

I obey, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in. I watch her face in the mirror as pleasure overtakes her. Her breasts bounce with each thrust, her lips parted in ecstasy.

"Look at us," I urge, one hand sliding around to find her clit. "Look how perfect we are together."

Her eyes flutter open, fixing on our reflection. The sight of us, me behind her, with my cock disappearing into her body, her face twisted in pleasure, nearly sends me over the edge.

I turn her face towards me and kiss her as I continue to thrust. She moans into my mouth.

When I pull back, I slide two fingers into her mouth. She sucks them eagerly, her tongue swirling around the digits in a way that makes me think of her mouth on other parts of me.

"That's it," I encourage, pulling my fingers from her mouth and returning them to her clit. "Take what you need."

She grinds back against me, meeting each thrust with increasing urgency. I can feel her tightening around me, getting close again.

"Come for me," I command, circling her clit faster. "Come on my cock."

Her second orgasm hits her hard.

"Axl…" she clamps down on me so tightly it's almost painful. The sight of her coming undone in the mirror pushes me over the edge, and I follow her into bliss with a deep groan.

For a moment, we stay like that, both panting and trembling. Then I carefully pull out, disposing of the condom in the nearby trash before turning her in my arms.

I kiss her softly and she sighs against my lips, her body relaxing into mine.

"Stay with me tonight," I murmur against her lips.

"I can't."

Chapter 9 - Leo

Iwait outside the penthouse building, until Dahlia and her friend come out through the revolving doors.

"Oh my god, I still can't believe we met Axl Valentine! And you... you hooked up with him!" Emily's voice is high-pitched with excitement.

Dahlia shushes her, glancing around nervously. "Keep your voice down."

"But Dahlia! You had sex in his bathroom! That's going in the hall of fame of hookups!"

I clench my jaw so hard I'm surprised my teeth don't crack. The bear inside me growls, possessive and angry. A new scent clings to Dahlia, it's musky and male with notes of whiskey and expensive cologne.

I force the animal down. This is a job, nothing more. She's not mine to claim.

Emily flags down a cab, and they prepare to get in. I step out of the shadows just as Dahlia is about to slide into the backseat.

"Going somewhere, Dr. Baldwin?"

Dahlia freezes, then turns slowly to face me. "Detective Byers. Fancy meeting you here."

Emily looks between us with wide eyes. "Um, who is this?"

"Go home, Emily," Dahlia says without breaking eye contact with me. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"But…"

"It's fine," Dahlia insists. "This is... work-related."

Emily hesitates, then pulls Dahlia into a quick hug. "You better call me. And I want every single detail about tonight. Every. Single. Detail."

Once Emily is safely in the cab and pulling away, Dahlia crosses her arms over her chest. "What are you doing here?"

I step closer, towering over her. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be alone?"

"I needed a break," she snaps, tilting her chin up defiantly.

"A break," I repeat flatly. "When we're trying to prevent you from being murdered."

"It was one night, Detective. One normal night."

"Get in the car," I say, nodding toward my unmarked police vehicle parked nearby. "We're leaving."

"I'm not going back to that safe house," she argues. "Not tonight."

"Fine… I have an apartment nearby. We can go there."

She blinks, clearly surprised by my offer. "Your place?"

"Unless you'd prefer Blackthorn's company."

Her eyes narrow at my tone. "Fine. Lead the way, Detective."

I guide her to my car, hyperaware of her scent now mixed with the other man. It's driving my bear crazy, making me want to erase any trace of the other man. I open the passenger door for her, then circle around to the driver's side.

"Who was he?"

"Who?" Dahlia asks, though her quickened pulse tells me she knows exactly what I'm asking.

"The man whose scent is all over you."

She stiffens beside me. "That's none of your business."

"It is when you're in danger and I'm responsible for keeping you alive,"

"It was just a hookup," she finally admits. "The lead singer of Exedra. Axl Valentine. I doubt he's even a shifter. It was just... a one-night thing and don't treat me like a child, I'm a fucking adult."

I don't push further, and soon my apartment comes into view. It is in an older building with good security and neighbors who mind their own business. Perfect for a cop who values privacy. I park in the underground garage and lead Dahlia to the elevator.

"Sixth floor," I say, pressing the button.

She stands as far from me as the small elevator allows. We arrive at the sixth floor in seconds, and I lead her down the hallway to my door, unlocking it and stepping aside to let her enter first.

My apartment is simple, and functional. A living room with a worn leather couch, a small kitchen, and a hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom. Nothing fancy, but it's clean and it's mine.

"It's... nice," Dahlia says, sounding surprised.

"What were you expecting, crime scene photos on the walls?"

The corner of her mouth twitches. "Maybe a board with pictures and red lines and some chalk outlines."

"Sorry to disappoint."

She wanders into the living room, examining the few personal items I have on display. A framed photo of my police academy graduation and carved wooden bear my father made.

"You should take a shower," I nod toward the hallway. "Bathroom's through there."

She raises an eyebrow. "Eager to get me naked, Detective?"

My bear stirs at her words, but I keep my expression neutral. "I'm eager to get that stink off you."

Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't argue. "Fine. I could use a bath anyway."

"Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. Use whatever you need."

She nods and disappears down the hallway. A moment later, I hear water running. I drop onto the couch and rub my hands over my face, trying to ignore the fact that Dahlia is getting naked in my bathroom.

A scream from the bathroom sends me sprinting down the hallway. I burst through the door without knocking, ready to fight whatever threat has found us.

Instead, I find Dahlia alone in the tub, hands over her eyes, completely naked.

"What happened?" I look around the small room for danger.

"Soap," she groans. "There's soap in my eyes."

Fuck. I should leave. I should turn around and walk out. But I'm rooted at the spot, staring at her naked body partially hidden by bubbles. Her olive skin glistens with water, her full breasts just visible above the foam.

She blinks rapidly, then focuses on me standing in the doorway. "Enjoying the view, Detective?"

"I thought you were being attacked," I say gruffly, forcing my eyes to her face.

"Just by your shampoo." She leans back in the tub, seemingly unconcerned with her nudity. "Could I get some tea? My throat's sore from screaming at the concert."

"Tea. Right." I back out of the bathroom. "I'll make some."

In the kitchen, I put the kettle on and grip the counter, trying to regain control. The image of Dahlia naked in my tub is burned into my brain. I'm painfully hard, and my bear is clawing to get out, demanding I go back in there and claim what it considers ours.

When the tea is ready, I knock on the bedroom door.

"Come in," she calls.

I enter cautiously. She's sitting on the edge of my bed wrapped in my bathrobe. Her hair is damp, curling around her face, and her skin glows from the hot water.

"Tea," I say, holding out the mug.

"Thank you." Her fingers brush mine as she takes it.

I step back, putting distance between us. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"Don't be ridiculous," she says, patting the bed beside her. "This bed is huge. We can share."

"That's not a good idea."

"Why not? Are you afraid you can't control yourself around me?" She takes a sip of tea.

"Yes," I admit bluntly.

Her eyes widen slightly at my honesty. "Oh… who is this?" She nods toward a framed photo on my bedside table

"That's my sister, Tessa."

"She's beautiful. She looks like you around the eyes."

"She was," I say quietly. "The Crimson Plague took her two years ago."

Dahlia's teasing smile fades. "I'm so sorry, Leo."

"She was the first case I knew personally. By the time they understood what was happening to her, it was too late." I sit down on the edge of the bed, keeping some space between us. "She died in a lab, surrounded by scientists who wanted to use her as an experiment while her body tore itself apart."

"That's why you don't trust researchers,"

I nod. "It's nothing personal."

"It feels pretty personal now." She sets her tea aside and pulls the bathrobe tighter around her. "Everything feels personal now."

She looks suddenly small, vulnerable. Not the fierce, brilliant scientist I've come to know.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Everything? A week ago, I was Dr. Dahlia Baldwin, geneticist. Now I'm some rare Omega shifter with heat cycles that make me want to fuck every Alpha in sight. I've had more sex in the past few days than in the last 5 years, and I barely recognize myself anymore."

"It gets easier," I tell her. "Once you understand your body, you can learn to control it."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? That someday I might not turn into a sex-crazed animal whenever an Alpha walks by?"

"You're still you," I say firmly. "Being an Omega doesn't change who you are. It's just another part of you. You will only be attracted to your alpha anyway."

She studies me for a long moment. "You know, for a grumpy bear, you can be surprisingly sweet."

"Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."

That gets a genuine smile from her. "Your secret's safe with me, Detective."

The bathrobe slips from her shoulder, revealing the curve of her breast. Only her nipple remains covered, and my mouth goes dry at the sight.

She notices me staring and makes no move to fix it. "Do you want me, Leo?"

"Fuck," I swear, running a hand through my hair. "I can't."

"Why not?" she challenges. "You wanted me at the safe house."

"That was different."

"How?"

I don't have an answer that makes sense. It was different because I wasn't thinking clearly, and she was in heat.

"Come closer," she says softly.

Like I'm under a spell, I move toward her on the bed.

"Kiss me," she whispers.

I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't. But I lean in anyway, pressing my lips to hers in a gentle kiss. She tastes like the tea she just drank.

When I pull back, her eyes are dark with desire.

"See? The world didn't end," she murmurs.

"It might if we keep going,"

"Maybe I want it to." Her hand comes up to cup my cheek. "Maybe I'm tired of being careful."

I capture her wrist, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingers. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I think I do." She leans in, her lips brushing my ear.

A growl escapes me before I can stop it. "Don't say that unless you mean it."

"I mean it." She pulls back to meet my eyes.

Those three words snap the last thread of my control. I surge forward, claiming her mouth in a kiss that's nothing like the gentle one we shared moments ago. This is hungry, desperate, and she matches me eagerly, her fingers tangling in my hair.

I push her back onto the bed, covering her body with mine. The bathrobe falls open, revealing her naked form beneath me. I break the kiss to look at her, taking in every curve, and every inch of her smooth olive skin.

"You're fucking perfect," I murmur, lowering my head to trail kisses down her neck.

She arches beneath me, her hands tugging at my shirt. "You're wearing too many clothes."

I sit back on my heels to pull my shirt over my head. Dahlia's eyes widen as she takes in my bare chest covered in scars from years on the job.

"Do you like what you see?" I ask, watching her gaze move across my body.

"I do," she admits, reaching up to trace a long scar that runs along my ribs. "How'd you get this one?"

"Knife fight. The guy didn't want to go to jail."

Her fingers trail down to another mark near my hip. "And this?"

"Bullet. I caught it during a raid."

"You're like a walking battle map," she murmurs.

I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips. "And you're changing the subject."

"Am I?" She smiles at me, her bathrobe fully open now, revealing her gorgeous body. "What subject were we on again?"

"This one," I say, lowering my head to kiss the curve of her breast.

She gasps, her back arching off the bed. "Oh, that subject."

I take my time, exploring her skin with my lips and tongue. I move to her nipple, drawing it into my mouth and sucking gently.

"Fuck," she breathes, her fingers threading through my hair.

I switch to her other breast, giving it the same attention while my hand slides down her stomach, feeling her muscles jump beneath my touch.

"You're teasing me," she accuses, squirming

"I'm savoring you," I look up to meet her eyes. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." She lets out a frustrated laugh. "My brain isn't working right now."

"Good," I murmur against her skin. "Stop thinking for once."

I continue my journey down her body, pressing kisses to her ribs, her stomach, the jut of her hip bones. When I reach the apex of her thighs, I pause, looking up at her for permission.

"Please," she whispers.

I part her legs wider and settle between them, my hands gripping her thighs. I smell the sweet, musky aroma that's been driving me crazy since I met her. I lower my head and lick a long, slow stripe through her folds.

She cries out and bucks her hips against my face. I hold her down firmly, using my strength to keep her still as I explore her with my tongue.

"Oh god," she moans, her head thrashing on the pillow. "That feels amazing."

I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue, teasing the sensitive bud before sucking it gently between my lips. Her thighs tremble on either side of my head, and her hands fist in the sheets.

"More," she demands. "I need more."

I slide one finger inside her, then two, and curl them.

"You're so wet," I growl against her. "So, fucking wet for me."

"Yes," she agrees breathlessly. "Only for you."

Those words send a surge of possessiveness through me. I double my efforts, working her with my mouth and fingers until she's right on the edge.

"Cum," I command. "Cum for me, Dahlia."

"Leo… Leo." She chants as she falls apart beautifully.

I crawl back up her body, until we are face to face. Her eyes are half-closed, and her cheeks flushed.

"You're beautiful when you come," I tell her, brushing a curl from her forehead.

She laughs softly. "You're pretty good at making that happen."

"I try." I lean down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on my lips.

Her hands move to my belt, fumbling with the buckle. "Remove your clothes," she says against my mouth.

I stand to remove my jeans and boxers. Her eyes widen when my cock leaps free, hard and ready.

"Impressive," she murmurs, sitting up on the bed.

"I'm glad you approve," I say, rejoining her on the mattress.

She pushes me onto my back, straddling my thighs. "It's my turn to explore."

Her hands roam my chest, tracing each scar with gentle fingers. When she leans down to follow the path with her lips, I groan, my cock twitching against my stomach.

"Patience,"

"Easy for you to say,"

She works her way down my body, taking her time just as I did with her. When her hand wraps around my length, I hiss through my teeth at the sensation.

"Is this, okay?" she asks, stroking me slowly.

"More than okay," I manage, fighting the urge to thrust into her grip.

She smiles, lowering her head to place a kiss on the tip. My hands fist in the sheets as she takes me into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head.

"Fuck, Dahlia," I groan, watching as she takes me deeper.

She hums around me, the vibration sending pleasure shooting up my spine. Her hand works what doesn't fit in her mouth, creating a perfect rhythm that has me on the edge embarrassingly quickly.

I touch her cheek, stopping her before it's too late. "Wait," I pant. "I want to be inside you."

She releases me with a pop, wiping her mouth as she crawls back up my body. "How do you want me?"

"Just like this," I say, guiding her to straddle my hips. "I want to watch you ride me."

She positions herself above me, then pauses. "Wait, do you have protection?"

I reach into the bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. She takes it from me, tearing the package open with her teeth, a sight that nearly makes me lose it right there.

She rolls it onto me, then lifts herself up, guiding me to her entrance. Our eyes lock as she slowly sinks down, taking me inch by inch until I'm fully seated inside her.

"Oh," she breathes, adjusting to my size. "You fit me so well."

I grip her hips, to help her move. "You're perfect," I tell her, watching as she moves above me. "So, fucking perfect."

She braces her hands on my chest, lifting and lowering herself. Her breasts bounce with each movement, and her head is thrown back in pleasure as she fucks me.

She rides me harder, chasing her release. I feel her walls start to flutter around me, signaling she's close.

"Come with me," she pants, her movements growing erratic.

I thrust up to meet her, hitting deeper inside her. The new angle has her crying out.

"Leo!" she screams as she comes, her body clenching around me like a vise.

The sight of her coming undone above me, combined with the tight grip of her body, sends me over the edge. I thrust up one last time, emptying myself inside her with a roar.

She collapses onto my chest, both of us breathing hard. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as we come down from the high.

We lie there in silence, and I trace lazy patterns on her back. Her breathing evens out, and I think she might be falling asleep.

"Leo?" she murmurs against my chest.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

I frown slightly, confused. "For what?"

She props herself up to look at me. "For making me feel like myself again."

Chapter 10 - Evan

"What do you mean you don't know where she is?" I slam my palm against my desk, making Oliver jump. My assistant clutches his tablet to his chest like it's a shield that might protect him from my rage. "I didn't hire you to lose track of people, Oliver."

"I'm sorry, sir. Detective Byers turned off his phone's location services. I've been trying to…"

"Try harder." I pace the length of my office, running a hand through my hair. It's been nearly twenty-four hours since Dahlia left the safe house, and my patience has evaporated like morning dew. "Call his precinct. Call his partner. Call his fucking dentist if you have to."

"Yes, Mr. Blackthorn." Oliver scurries toward the door, then freezes when it swings open.

Dahlia strolls in first, wearing the same clothes from yesterday, her curls wilder than usual. Behind her stands Detective Boy Scout, looking irritatingly smug.

"Well, well," I drawl, leaning against my desk. "Look who decided to grace us with their presence."

Oliver wisely slips out the door, closing it behind him.

Dahlia crosses her arms. "Don't start, Evan."

"Don't start?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You disappear for an entire day, and you think I shouldn't 'start'?"

"I needed space." She drops her bag onto one of my visitor chairs. "And I'm fine, as you can see."

I turn my attention to Byers. "You had one job. One fucking job."

"My job is to keep her safe," he responds coolly. "She's safe."

"Your job is to follow my instructions," I snarl, stepping toward him. "And I specifically told you to bring her back to the safe house after the concert."

Dahlia steps between us. "I asked him not to."

"Of course you did." I throw my hands up. "Because why follow basic safety protocols when you can just do whatever the hell you want?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child."

"Then stop acting like one." I'm practically vibrating with fury. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? What's still trying to happen to you?"

"Yes, I do." She jabs a finger at my chest. "I'm the one who was attacked. I'm the one whose lab was ransacked. I'm the one who's suddenly an Omega with every Alpha in a ten-mile radius trying to get in my pants."

Byers shifts uncomfortably behind her.

"And speaking of getting in your pants," I say, dropping my voice. "You reek of sex and cologne."

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn't back down. "My personal life is none of your business."

"It is when your 'personal life' interferes with your safety and your research." I step closer, towering over her. "Or did you forget that you're supposed to be finding a cure for the Crimson Plague?"

"I haven't forgotten anything." Her eyes flash dangerously. "But I'm still a person, Evan. I can't live locked in your cage, only allowed out to run tests in your fancy lab."

"It's not a cage; it's for your protection!"

"It's your way of control!" she shouts back. "You're obsessed with controlling everything and everyone around you!"

Byers places a hand on her shoulder. "Dahlia, maybe we should…"

"Get your hand off her," I growl.

His eyes narrow, but he drops his hand. "You don't give me orders, Blackthorn."

"Actually, I do. I'm paying your salary." I turn back to Dahlia. "And you…you need to understand what's at stake here. People are dying. The virus is spreading. And you're out there fucking everything you meet."

"How dare you." Her voice is quiet but razor-sharp. "I know exactly what's at stake. I've been working myself to exhaustion trying to understand this virus. I needed one night… one fucking night… to remember who I am outside of all this."

"And who is that?" I ask, my anger giving way to something more dangerous. "The woman who would fuck anyone with balls?"

The slap comes so fast I don't have time to dodge it. Her palm connects with my cheek, and the crack echoes in the office.

"Fuck you, Evan." She grabs her bag. "I'm done with this conversation."

She storms toward the door, and Byers moves to follow her.

"Stay," I command him.

To my surprise, he does, crossing his arms and watching me with barely concealed contempt.

I rub my cheek, which stings like a bitch. "Well, that went well."

"You're an asshole," he says simply.

"So, I've been told." I drop into my chair. "But I'm an asshole who's trying to keep her alive."

"By insulting her? You have such great strategy."

I glare at him. "You let her convince you to take her some place instead of bringing her back here. Excuse me if I don't consider you the authority on good decisions."

He doesn't flinch. "She needed to feel normal. To feel in control of something in her life. Haven't you noticed? Everything's been taken from her and she's clinging to whatever scraps of freedom she can find."

I hate that he's right. I hate even more that he understands her in ways I haven't bothered to.

"Just... keep her safe," I mutter, dismissing him with a wave. "And next time, answer your fucking phone."

He gives me a mocking salute and leaves.

I sit alone for exactly forty-three seconds before standing up and following Dahlia.

I knock on her bedroom door. No answer.

"Dahlia, open the door."

"Go away."

"I want to apologize."

A pause, then I hear footsteps. The door swings open, and she stands there with red-rimmed eyes that punch me in the gut.

"You made me cry," she accuses. "I never cry."

"I'm sorry." The words feel foreign on my tongue. "I was worried, and I lashed out."

She studies me for a moment, then steps back to let me in. The suite is spacious but impersonal… I had it decorated in neutral tones with minimal fuss.

"I shouldn't have slapped you," she says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I deserved it." I remain standing, keeping a safe distance between us. "What I said was unforgivable."

"Then why say it?"

I run a hand through my hair. "Because I was jealous, okay? The thought of you with someone else drives me crazy."

Her eyes widen slightly. "Jealous? You barely know me, and we're always fighting"

"I know enough." I step closer, drawn to her like a moth to flame. "I know you're brilliant. I know you're stubborn as hell. I know you taste like honey and fire."

Her breath catches. "Evan..."

"I know I want you." I take another step. "I know I can't stop thinking about you."

She stands, and we're toe to toe now. "This is a bad idea."

"The worst," I agree, my gaze dropping to her lips. "Tell me to stop."

"I should."

"But you won't."

She swallows hard. "I won't."

I cup her face in my hands and crush my mouth on hers. She responds immediately, opening for me, her hands fisting in my shirt to pull me closer. She tastes like coffee and desire, and I deepen the kiss, backing her toward the bed.

We fall onto the mattress, and I brace myself above her, breaking the kiss to look down at her flushed face. Her lips are swollen, her eyes dark with want. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

But there's a lingering scent that doesn't belong to her. The detective and someone else.

I freeze, suddenly aware of what I'm doing.

"What's wrong?" she asks, her voice husky.

I roll off her, sitting on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands. "I can't do this."

"Can't do what?"

"Share you." The words scrape my throat raw. "I don't share, Dahlia. Not ever."

She sits up and smooths her clothes. "I'm not yours to share or keep."

"Fuck… I know."

I'm about to leave when my phone rings. It's an unknown number. I almost ignore it, but something makes me answer.

"Blackthorn speaking."

"Hello, Evan." The voice is distorted, and unrecognizable. "Enjoying your time with the Omega?"

I stiffen, turning away from Dahlia. "Who is this?"

"Someone who knows your secret."

My blood runs cold. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" A low laugh. "Because if I remember clearly, you know exactly what I am talking about."

"What do you want?"

"Stop the research and shut it down. Or every news outlet in the country will know exactly what Blackthorn Biotech was doing three years ago... and what you really are."

The call ends, leaving me staring at my phone. Who the fuck was that?

"Evan?" Dahlia's voice seems to come from far away. "What's wrong? Who was that?"

I turn to her. "No one," I lie. "Just business."

Her eyes narrow. "You're lying."

Chapter 11 - Dahlia

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I mutter to myself as Evan storms out of my room.

I sink onto the edge of the bed. The nerve of that man! First, he slut-shames me, then kisses me like his life depends on it, and then gets a mysterious call and bolts. What the actual hell?

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see missed calls from Onyx. Great. I hit redial and wait for it to ring.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Onyx's deep voice growls the moment he picks up.

"Hello to you too," I reply dryly.

"I've been calling you for days. Your heat could have come back. You could have been kidnapped. You could be dead in a ditch somewhere!"

"As you can hear, I'm perfectly alive," I sigh, flopping back on the bed. "Just dealing with... a lot."

"Where are you?" His voice softens slightly.

"I'm not entirely sure. Some fancy safe house owned by Evan Blackthorn. After you triggered my Omega awakening, things got complicated."

"Complicated how?" His voice drops dangerously low.

I rub my temple. "Well, let's see. I went into heat again at a safe house with a bear shifter detective named Leo. Then I snuck out to a concert where I hooked up with a rock star. Now I'm back at Blackthorn's place where he just kissed me and ran away after getting a weird phone call."

Silence stretches between us.

"Onyx? You still there?"

"You've been busy," he finally says, his voice tight.

"Not by choice," I defend myself. "This Omega thing is... overwhelming okay and my body keeps betraying me… though sometimes I actually want it."

"You need to come to me," he says firmly. "Now."

"Actually, I was thinking the same thing. I could check on your cousin while I'm there."

"You remember my cousin?" He sounds surprised.

"Of course I do. You broke into my apartment because she's sick with the virus. How is she?"

"Worse," he admits quietly. "The shifts are happening more frequently. She can't control them."

My heart twists. "Text me your address. I'll come right away."

"Be careful."

"I'll see you soon," I reply, ending the call before I can say something embarrassing.

A knock at my door makes me jump.

"Dahlia? It's Leo. You okay in there?"

I open the door to find him leaning against the frame and waiting.

"I'm fine," I say, grabbing my jacket. "But I need to go out."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Out? After everything that's happened?"

"Onyx's cousin is getting worse. I need to see her, assess her condition."

"Blackthorn won't be happy."

"Blackthorn can kiss my ass," I snap, then soften at Leo's surprised look. "Look, I'm going whether you approve or not. You can either drive me or I'll call a cab."

He studies me for a moment, then sighs deeply. "Let me get my keys."

Thirty minutes later, we're driving through a neighborhood I've never seen before. The buildings become more widespread, trees more abundant, until we're practically in the woods.

"This is pack territory," Leo explains, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Bears and wolves don't always mix well."

"Will you be, okay?"

He glances at me. "I can handle myself."

"I know you can," I say. "That's not what I asked."

A small smile tugs at his lips. "I'll be fine. Just stay close to me."

We pull up to a large compound surrounded by a high fence. The gate opens as we approach, as if they were expecting us.

My heart hammers against my ribs as we park. I haven't seen Onyx since that night in my apartment, when he awakened something in me, I didn't know existed. Part of me wants to run into his arms. The other part wants to punch him for turning my life upside down.

Onyx steps out onto the porch as we exit the car. He's even more imposing than I remember.

"Dahlia," he says my name like a prayer.

"Onyx," I reply.

His gaze shifts to Leo, and his expression hardens. "Who is this?"

"This is Leo Byers," I introduce them properly. "He's been... protecting me."

Onyx's nostrils flare slightly, and I realize he can probably smell Leo on me. Wonderful.

"Come inside," he says curtly, turning to lead us into the house.

The interior is surprisingly cozy. It's built with wood and stone with comfortable furniture and the lingering scent of pine. Several people move around the space, casting curious glances our way.

"Where's she?" I ask, focusing on why I'm here.

"This way."

He leads us down a hallway to a bedroom at the back of the house. Inside, a young woman lies on a bed, her skin glistening with sweat. Even from the doorway, I can see patches of fur appearing and disappearing on her arms.

"Oh god," I whisper, moving quickly to her side.

"It's getting worse," Onyx says. "The episodes are coming more frequently."

I press my palm on Mara's forehead. She's burning up. "How long has she been like this?"

"The fever started three days ago. The partial shifts began yesterday."

I examine her carefully, noting her rapid pulse, the dilated pupils, the way her skin ripples with aborted transformations.

"I need to get her to the lab… I can monitor her there, run tests, maybe try some experimental treatments."

"You want me to bring her to Blackthorn's facility?" Onyx asks.

"It's the best equipped lab I've ever seen," I admit. "And time is running out for her."

He studies Mara's face, then nods sharply. "Fine. I'm coming too."

"I expected nothing less," I say. "We should leave soon… Can you show me around first? I'd like to see your pack."

Leo steps forward. "I should call this in, let Blackthorn know…"

"Give us an hour," I cut him off. "Please, Leo."

He looks at Onyx and me, then sighs. "One hour. Then we head back."

Onyx leads me outside while Leo plans for Mara's transport. The pack grounds are beautiful. There are cabins nestled among trees, and there's a large fire pit in the center, and children playing in a grassy area.

"It's not what I expected," I admit as we walk.

"What did you expect? Wolves howling at the moon and raw meat hanging from trees?"

I laugh. "Something like that, maybe. This is... nice and peaceful."

"We try to live normally," he says, guiding me toward a path that leads into the woods. "Most of us have jobs in the city. We come here to be ourselves."

"To shift?"

He nods. "To run. To be free."

We follow the path until we reach a small clearing with a bench overlooking a stream. It's secluded and private.

"This is beautiful," I say, sitting down.

Onyx remains standing, watching me. "You've been with others."

It's not a question.

"Yes," I admit, seeing no point in lying. "After you left... the heat came back."

"I should have stayed," he says quietly. "I should have explained more."

"Why didn't you?"

He sits beside me, close enough that our thighs almost touch. "I was afraid."

"You? Afraid?" I can't hide my surprise. "Of what?"

"Of what I feel when I'm near you." His voice drops lower. "Of how much I want you."

My heart skips a beat. "Onyx..."

"I can smell other alphas on you," he continues.

I swallow hard. "My body... responds to Alphas now. It's not something I can control."

"I know." He turns to face me fully. "But it started with me..."

"Yes…" I whisper, meeting his gaze. "And I... I missed you."

The words slip out before I can stop them. I'm not used to being vulnerable to admitting need.

Something shifts in his expression and his hand comes up to cup my cheek. I lean into his touch without thinking.

"I missed you too," he murmurs.

I don't know who moves first. Maybe we both do, but suddenly his lips are on mine. I kiss him back with an urgency that surprises me, my hands finding their way into his hair to pull him closer.

He growls against my mouth, a sound that vibrates through my entire body. He lifts me up and presses me against the trunk of a nearby tree. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him against me.

"Fuck," he breathes against my neck. "You taste even better than I remember."

His hands grip my thighs, holding me up effortlessly. I can feel how hard he is through our clothes, pressing exactly where I need him.

"Onyx," I gasp as he nips at my collarbone. "We shouldn't…"

"Tell me to stop," he challenges, his eyes meeting mine. They're glowing gold now.

I can't. I don't want him to stop. Instead, I pull his mouth back to mine, kissing him with everything I have. His tongue slides against mine, and I moan.

One of his hands slides up under my shirt, and I arch into his touch, wanting more, needing more.

"I wanted to hate you," I confess between kisses. "For changing me."

"Do you?" he asks. "Hate me?"

"No," I admit, looking into his eyes. "I can't."

He kisses me again, softer this time. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know." I run my thumb across his lower lip. "But my life is completely different now."

"Better or worse?" His eyes search mine.

"Just... different." I sigh. "More complicated. More intense."

His hand moves higher, brushing the underside of my breast. "Like this?"

"Exactly like this," I breathe, pressing into his touch.

The sound of a throat clearing makes us both freeze. I look over Onyx's shoulder to see Leo standing at the edge of the clearing.

"Time's up," he says flatly. "The medical transport is here for Mara."

Onyx lowers me gently to the ground but keeps one arm around my waist. "We'll be right there."

Leo nods stiffly and turns to leave.

"That was awkward," I mutter, straightening my clothes.

"He wants you," Onyx says.

"And you don't mind sharing?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

His grip on my waist tightens. "I didn't say that."

"This is all so confusing," I admit. "I've never felt this way before. About anyone, let alone multiple people."

"It's the Omega in you," he says. "But it's also you, Dahlia… it's your choice."

I look up at him, studying his face. "And if I choose you?"

"Then I'll fight for you," he says simply. "Against anyone who tries to claim you."

The intensity in his eyes makes me shiver. "And if I choose all of you?"

He stiffens slightly. "That's... uncommon."

"But not impossible?"

"No," he admits. "Not impossible."

I take his hand, lacing our fingers together. "Let's go help your cousin. Then we can figure out the rest."

We walk back toward the house in silence. Just as we reach the porch, my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen and it's a text from an unknown number.

"You shouldn’t have trusted him, Dahlia. He’s lying to you."

Chapter 12 - Axl

Ican't get her out of my fucking head.

It’s been three days since the concert. Three days since I had Dahlia against my bathroom vanity and three days of replaying every sound she made, and every expression that crossed her face when she came.

And now, I am sprawled across the couch in our recording studio like some lovesick teenager, staring at the ceiling instead of working on our new album.

"Earth to Axl!" Marcus waves his hand in front of my face. "Dude, we've been trying to get your opinion on this bridge for ten minutes."

I blink, forcing myself back to reality. "Sorry. Play it again?"

Derek rolls his eyes from behind his drum kit. "He's still thinking about Mystery Girl."

"Her name is Dahlia," I say, then wince when all three of my bandmates exchange knowing looks.

"Ooooh, Dahlia," Luke mocks in a high-pitched voice. "Tell us more about Dahlia."

I flip him off. "Fuck you."

Marcus puts down his guitar and drops onto the couch beside me. "Seriously, though, what's up with you? I've never seen you this hung up on anyone."

"I'm not hung up," I protest, but it sounds weak even to my ears.

"Bullshit," Derek laughs. "You've checked your phone fifty times today. You haven't hit on a single groupie in three days. And you keep zoning out with this stupid smile on your face."

"I do not," I growl.

"You're doing it right now," Luke points out.

I throw a guitar pick at him. "Can we just focus on the fucking music?"

"Not until you admit you're obsessed with this chick," Derek insists.

"I'm not obsessed," I mutter. "I'm just... interested."

Marcus snorts. "Interested? Bro, you've slept with half the women in this city and never once asked for their number afterward. Now you've got your investigator tracking down one girl. That's not just interest. That's borderline obsession."

He's right, but I'll die before admitting it. I've never chased a woman in my life. They chase me. That's how it works. That's how it always worked.

Until Dahlia.

"Whatever," I stand up, needing to move. "She was different, okay?"

"Different how?" Luke asks, genuinely curious now.

I run a hand through my hair, struggling to find the words. "She saw me."

"We all see you, dumbass," Derek laughs. "You're not invisible."

"No, I mean..." I pace across the studio. "She saw me. Not Axl Valentine, the rock star. Just... me."

The guys exchange glances again, but this time there's no mockery in their expressions.

"Shit," Marcus says softly. "You really like her."

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. I snatch it up so fast I nearly drop it.

"Valentine," I answer, trying to sound casual.

"I've got what you asked for," says Ricky, my investigator. "Took some digging."

My heart rate kicks up. "Tell me."

"Dahlia Baldwin. Thirty-two. Geneticist with a focus on rare mutations. Works—or worked—at Helix Labs until recently. Now she's contracted with Blackthorn Biotech."

"Blackthorn?" The name sounds familiar. "The pharmaceutical company?"

"That's the one. Run by Evan Blackthorn. He's a rich bastard and a bit of a recluse."

"What else?" I press, aware that my bandmates are watching me.

"She lives in the university district, but..." Ricky pauses. "That's where it gets weird. She hasn't been home in days. Neighbors say some cop showed up and took her away. Then she was spotted at your concert, obviously, but after that... nothing. It's like she vanished."

My stomach tightens. "Is she in trouble?"

"I can't say for sure. But something's up. Her lab was broken into the week before she disappeared. And get this… her research is about the Crimson Plague."

The name sends a jolt through me. The Crimson Plague. The virus that's killing shifters across the country. I didn't know she was doing important work.

"You got a number for her?" I ask.

"Yeah, sending it now." My phone pings with a text. "That's all I could dig up without raising flags. Do you want me to keep looking?"

"Yeah. Keep me posted." I hang up and stare at the number on my screen.

"Well?" Marcus prompts. "You gonna call her or just stare at your phone all day?"

I flip him off again, but I'm already pressing the call button. My palms are sweating. What the fuck is happening to me?

The phone rings three times, and I'm about to hang up when she answers.

"Hello… Dahlia Baldwin speaking." Her voice is just as I remember it, low and rich.

"Dahlia." I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "It's Axl. Valentine," I add, in case she's forgotten.

There's a pause. "How did you get this number?"

Not exactly the enthusiastic greeting I was hoping for.

"I have my ways," I say, trying to sound mysterious rather than creepy. "I wanted to invite you to my next show. It's a private performance, and very exclusive. I got you VIP access, of course."

"You tracked down my number to invite me to a concert?" She sounds more confused than flattered.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," I admit, ignoring the exaggerated kissing noises Derek is making in the background.

Another pause. "That's... flattering. But I'm not sure I can make it. My schedule is pretty packed for the next few days."

"I can be flexible," I offer quickly. "Any day that works for you."

"It's not that simple," she sighs. "I'm in the middle of some complicated research, and I can't really leave right now."

"I could come to you," I suggest, aware that I sound desperate, but I am beyond caring.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she says gently.

"Because of the other guy?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

"What other guy?" She sounds genuinely confused.

"The one who picked you up after the party. Tall, brooding, looked like he wanted to rip my head off."

"Oh. Leo." She laughs softly. "It's complicated."

"I'm good with complicated," I insist. "Just give me a chance to see you again."

There's muffled talking on her end, like she's covering the phone to speak to someone.

"I have to go," she says suddenly. "I'm sorry."

"Wait…" But she's already hung up.

I stare at my phone in disbelief. Did she just blow me off?

"Ouch," Luke winces. "That was painful to watch."

"Shut up," I growl.

Marcus pats my shoulder. "Welcome to the real world, rock star. Sometimes women say no."

"She didn't say no," I argue. "She said she's busy."

"Which is woman-code for 'not interested,'" Derek points out helpfully.

I throw my phone onto the couch. "She's interested. You didn't see how she was with me that night."

"Maybe she just wanted a one-night stand with a celebrity," Luke suggests. "Some people do that, you know. Sleep with famous people for the story."

"Not her," I shake my head. "It wasn't like that."

"Face it, bro," Marcus says. "You've finally met a woman who doesn't fall at your feet, and you can't handle it."

"Fuck you," I snap, "I'll get her. You'll see."

"Five hundred bucks says you won't," Derek challenges.

"You're on," I say without hesitation. "Let's get back to work."

We run through our song three more times, but I keep fucking up the bridge. My mind isn't on the music.

"That's it," Luke throws down his bass pick. "We're done for today. Axl can't focus for shit."

"Sorry, guys," I mutter.

"Don't apologize," Derek says, spinning a drumstick between his fingers. "Just fix whatever's going on in that pretty head of yours before tomorrow's show."

"I'm trying."

They pack up their gear, and soon I'm alone in the studio. I pick up my guitar and start playing.

I play for hours, trying to work through my frustration. By the time I finish, my fingers are cramping, and the studio is bathed in moonlight.

As I'm packing up my guitar, my phone rings. It's Ricky again.

"Tell me you have good news," I answer.

"I found an address."

I grip the phone tighter. "Where is she?"

Chapter 13 - Dahlia

Igrip the door handle as Leo's car follows the medical transport van carrying Mara back to the safe house. Onyx sits in the back seat; his eyes never leave the van ahead of us. The tension in the car is thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Evan's going to lose his shit when we show up with company," Leo says, breaking the silence.

"Let him," I reply, staring out the window. "Mara needs help, and we have the equipment to give it."

"I don't care what Blackthorn thinks," Onyx growls from the back seat. "My cousin is dying."

Leo's eyes meet mine briefly. "Just be prepared for a storm."

He's not wrong. The moment we pull up to the safe house, I catch sight of Evan standing at the front door, his arms crossed, and his jaw is clenched tight. Great. He's already pissed.

"Brace yourself," I mutter to Onyx as we exit the car.

Evan's icy blue eyes narrow as they lock on Onyx, then shift to the medical transport behind us. "What the fuck is this?"

"Hello to you too," I say, stepping forward. "This is Onyx Stonefang. His cousin Mara is infected with the Crimson Plague. I'm going to study her symptoms and try some treatments."

"You brought an infected shifter to my safe house?" Evan's voice drops dangerously low. "Without consulting me?"

"There wasn't time," Leo interjects, coming up beside me. "Her condition is deteriorating rapidly."

Evan's nostrils flare. "And you went along with this?"

"She's a doctor," Leo shrugs. "I'm just the muscle."

The medical team begins unloading Mara on a stretcher. She's still unconscious.

"Get her to the lab," I direct them, then turn back to Evan. "You can yell at me later. Right now, she needs help."

As Leo guides the paramedics toward the house, Evan grabs my arm. "We need to talk. Now."

"Let go of her," Onyx growls, his eyes flashing gold.

"It's fine," I say, extracting my arm from Evan's grip. "Let's talk inside. Onyx, go with Mara. I'll be there soon."

Onyx hesitates, then nods, following the stretcher into the house.

"You've got some fucking nerve," Evan hisses once we're alone on the porch. "First you disappear… again and then you return with not one but two strays?"

"They're not strays," I snap. "And this isn't about you, Evan. It's about finding a cure."

"By bringing the virus directly to our doorstep?"

"By studying a live subject in controlled conditions," I counter. "Do you want a cure or not?"

He runs a hand through his perfect hair, messing it up in a way that shouldn't be attractive but somehow is. "Of course, I want a cure. But not at the expense of your safety."

"I'm touched by your concern," I say dryly, "but I can handle myself."

"You could have called," he argues. "Give me some warning."

"Would you have said yes?"

His silence answers my question.

"That's what I thought," I say, crossing my arms.

Onyx enters the room, his presence immediately filling the space. "Problem?"

"Several," Evan replies coldly. "Starting with you."

Onyx's eyes narrow. "I go where Dahlia goes."

"Is that so?" Evan steps closer to him. "And what exactly is your relationship with Dr. Baldwin?"

"That's none of your business," I interject.

"It is when you're bringing him into my house," Evan counters.

The air in the room grows heavier, each second stretching tighter than the last. These two alphas circling each other like wolves on the edge of a fight make my heart pound.

A sharp knock at the front door cuts through the standoff.

"Now what?" Evan mutters.

Leo appears from the hallway and moves to answer it. I hold my breath, half-expecting government agents or more infected shifters.

What I don't expect is Axl Valentine standing on the doorstep, looking like he just stepped off a magazine cover in his leather jacket and torn jeans.

"Holy shit," I whisper.

Axl's eyes find mine immediately, and a slow smile spreads across his face. "I found you."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I blurt out.

"I missed you," he says simply, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. His eyes scan the room, "Nice place. Very... secure."

"How did you find this address?" Evan demands, stepping forward.

Axl shrugs. "I hired a private investigator. It cost me a fortune, but it's worth every penny." His gaze returns to me. "You're a hard woman to track down, Dahlia."

"So much for a safe house," Onyx mutters, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"You need to leave," Evan says to Axl, his voice cold enough to freeze hell. "Now."

"Not happening," Axl replies cheerfully. "I came to see Dahlia, and I'm not leaving without talking to her."

"This isn't a fucking concert venue," Evan snaps. "You can't just show up uninvited."

"And yet, here I am." Axl turns to me. "Can we talk? Privately?"

Before I can answer, Evan steps between us. "She's busy."

"I think she can speak for herself," Axl counters, his smile never wavering, though something dangerous flashes in his eyes.

"He's right," I say, finding my voice. "I can speak for myself. And right now, I need to check on my patient."

"Patient?" Axl's brow furrows.

"Yes, I have a critically ill patient downstairs who needs my attention."

"I'll wait," Axl says, making himself comfortable on the couch.

Evan looks ready to explode. "This isn't a waiting room!"

I place a hand on Evan's arm. "Let me handle this. Go check on the security system or something… clearly it needs upgrading if he can find us."

Evan hesitates, then nods curtly. "Fine. But he's gone in thirty minutes."

As Evan stalks off, Onyx pushes away from the wall. "I'll check on Mara."

"I'll be down soon," I promise.

That leaves me alone with Axl and Leo, who's still hovering by the door like he's unsure whether to stay or go.

"Leo, could you give us a minute?" I ask.

He nods, though his eyes linger on Axl before he follows Onyx downstairs.

Once we're alone, I turn to Axl. "How did you find me?"

"I told you… I hired a private investigator."

"Why?"

He stands, moving closer to me. "Because I can't stop thinking about you. Because what happened between us felt... different."

"It was just sex," I say, though the words sound hollow.

"Bullshit." He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. "We both know it was more than that."

As his fingers touch mine, I feel that same electric current from the night we met. His scent hits me then… It's wild and intoxicating, and something clicks.

"Wait… You're a shifter," I breathe.

His eyes widen slightly. "How did you know?"

"I can smell it on you now." I step closer, inhaling deeply. "You're a wolf?"

He nods slowly. "You couldn't tell before?"

"I was... newly awakened then. I'm still learning."

"Whoa… You're an Omega."

It's not a question.

"Yes," I admit.

"Fuck," he whispers. "No wonder I couldn't get you out of my head. No wonder I feel like I'm losing my mind when I'm not near you."

"Axl…"

"I've been a shifter my whole life," he continues, "but I've never felt a pull like this. I have never wanted someone so badly; it hurts."

His words stir something in me, a response I can't control. My body remembers his touch, the way he made me feel, and it wants more.

"This is insane," I say, more to myself than to him. "You can't be here."

"Why not?"

"Because it's complicated."

He laughs softly. "I told you on the phone… I'm good with complicated."

"Not this kind of complicated." I run a hand through my hair. "You don't understand what's happening."

"Then explain it to me."

I take a deep breath. "The three men you just met…I've been with all of them."

His eyebrows shoot up. "All three?"

"Well… Two."

"Like... at the same time?"

"No!" I feel my cheeks heat. "Separately and recently."

"Ah." He nods slowly. "And they're all Alphas?"

"Yes."

"And they all want you?"

"Apparently."

He considers this for a moment, then shrugs. "Makes sense. You're fucking incredible."

I blink, surprised by his reaction. "You're not upset?"

"Should I be?" He steps closer, his fingers brushing my cheek. "I want you too. More than I've ever wanted anyone. If I have to share you to have you at all... well, I've never been good at sharing, but I can learn."

His acceptance throws me off-balance. "It's not that simple."

"It can be," he insists. "If you want it to be."

Before I can respond, the others return. Evan, Onyx, and Leo enter the room almost simultaneously, as if drawn by some invisible force, or perhaps by the scent of an Alpha getting too close to me.

"Time's up," Evan announces, glaring at Axl. "Say goodbye."

"I'm not leaving," Axl replies, his arm sliding around my waist. "Dahlia and I were just getting reacquainted."

Evan's eyes narrow at the possessive gesture. "Get your hands off her."

"Why?" Axl challenges. "She doesn't seem to mind."

"She's not yours to touch," Onyx growls, stepping forward.

"Funny, she didn't mention having an owner when she was in my bathroom," Axl retorts with a smirk.

The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.

"What did you just say?" Evan's voice is deadly quiet.

"You heard me," Axl replies, "Dahlia and I have already been intimate. Several times. And it was fucking amazing."

"You son of a bitch," Evan snarls, lunging forward.

I step between them. "Stop it! Both of you!"

Evan freezes, his fists clenched at his sides. "He's the one you fucked after the concert?"

"Yes," I admit, seeing no point in lying. "But that's not important right now."

"It feels pretty fucking important," Evan mutters.

"Well, it's not," I snap. "What's important is finding a cure for the Crimson Plague. Everything else is a distraction."

"She's right," Leo speaks up from where he's been watching the drama unfold. "We have bigger problems than who's sleeping with whom."

"Easy for you to say," Axl remarks. "You've already had your turn with her."

Leo's eyes flash dangerously. "Watch it, rock star."

"Or what, Detective?" Axl steps closer to him. "You'll arrest me?"

"No… I'll break your pretty face," Leo growls.

"Enough!" I shout. "All of you, just stop!"

To my surprise, they do. Four pairs of eyes turn to me, all filled with varying degrees of desire, possessiveness, and frustration.

"This is ridiculous," I continue. "There's a woman dying in the lab downstairs. The virus is spreading. People are in danger. And you're all acting like territorial teenagers fighting over who gets to dance with the prom queen."

None of them speaks.

"I'm not a prize to be won," I say more quietly. "I'm a scientist trying to save lives. That has to come first."

"What are you saying?" Onyx asks.

I take a deep breath. "I'm saying I need all of you to work together. No more fighting. We have one goal, and that is to find a cure."

"And what about..." Evan gestures vaguely between all of us.

"I'm not choosing between you," I state. "I can't. And I won't."

"So, what, we're supposed to share?" Axl asks, sounding more curious than offended.

"I don't know," I admit. "This is all new to me, too. But I do know that I need to focus on my work, and I can't do that with all of you at each other's throats."

The four men exchange glances.

"What if we don't agree to your terms?" Evan finally asks.

I lift my chin. "Anyone who's not comfortable with this arrangement should leave now."

The silence that follows is deafening. I hold my breath, half-expecting all of them to walk out.

Chapter 14 - Dahlia

Istare at the microscope, adjusting the focus slightly as I examine Mara's blood sample. The virus particles move erratically, attaching to her shifter cells in a way that's both fascinating and horrifying. Behind me, Onyx paces like a caged animal. After I gave the ultimatum, the four of them have been acting like good puppies.

"Anything?" he asks for the fifth time in twenty minutes.

I straighten up, rubbing my neck. "The virus is attacking the cellular structure that controls her transformations. It's breaking down the barriers between human and animal DNA."

Onyx leans against the lab table, his massive frame making the sturdy furniture seem fragile. "Can you fix it?"

"I'm trying." I pull up the digital scans on my tablet. "Look at this. The virus isn't just random. The sequencing is too perfect."

He peers at the screen, his brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

"It means this wasn't some natural mutation." I swipe through several images. "Someone designed this. Someone created this virus specifically to target transformation cells."

"You're sure?" His voice drops dangerously low.

"One hundred percent." I point to a particular sequence. "The pattern is synthetic. Nature doesn't create viruses with this kind of precision."

Onyx's hand curls into a fist. "Who would do this?"

"Someone who understands shifter DNA better than most shifters do, or someone who had access to some help from a shifter." I rub my eyes, exhausted after hours of non-stop work. "The question is why? What's the endgame?"

Before Onyx can respond, the lab door slides open.

"You need to come upstairs," Leo says. "Now."

"What's happened?" I ask, already pulling off my latex gloves.

"Just come."

Something in his tone makes my stomach clench. Onyx and I follow him upstairs to the main living area, where Evan and Axl are standing in front of the large television mounted on the wall. They both turn as we enter, their faces mirroring Leo's grim expression.

On the screen, a stern-faced man in a military uniform stands at a podium. The chyron identifies him as General Hammond.

"...urge all citizens to remain vigilant," he's saying. "If you spot an infected shifter, do not approach. Contact authorities immediately using the emergency hotline we've established."

"What the fuck is this?" I whisper, moving closer to the screen.

Hammond continues, "The Crimson Plague represents a clear and present danger to public safety. Infected shifters lose control of their transformations, becoming violent and unpredictable."

"That's bullshit," Onyx growls.

"Despite our best efforts," Hammond says, "our research indicates there is no cure for this virus. Therefore, containment is our only option."

My blood runs cold. "Containment?"

"All shifters must be quarantined immediately. Additionally, those who have had direct contact with infected individuals must also be tested and isolated."

"They're going to round us up," Leo says quietly.

Hammond's face hardens. "Let me be clear: if shifters wish to continue living peacefully within human society, cooperation is mandatory. Those who resist will be considered threats and dealt with accordingly."

"Dealt with?" Axl repeats, his usual playfulness gone. "Does he mean killed?"

"The safety of our citizens is paramount," Hammond concludes. "We will not allow this plague to spread further. Thank you."

The press conference ends, cutting to a panel of commentators already debating the announcement. Evan mutes the television.

"They're going to slaughter us," Onyx says, his voice deadly calm.

"They can't do this. They can't just decide to 'put down' infected shifters like they're rabid animals." I feel sick even as the words leave my mouth.

"They can and they will," Evan replies, his jaw tight. "The public is already terrified of shifters. This just gives them permission to act on that fear."

"But that's fucking genocide! … They're talking about mass murder." Onyx argues.

Leo crosses his arms. "Hammond's been pushing anti-shifter legislation for years. The Crimson Plague is just his excuse to do what he's always wanted finally."

"Hang on," Axl interrupts, looking confused. "I've heard about this virus, but I never really paid attention. What exactly does it do?"

"It destroys a shifter's ability to control their transformations," Leo explains. "You start shifting randomly, painfully. Parts of your body transform while others remain human. Eventually, your organs fail from stress."

"And it's contagious?" Axl asks.

Onyx nods. "Yes… through blood, saliva, and sex. Any fluid exchange can spread it."

"That's why they're so scared," I add. "One infected shifter could potentially spread it to dozens before showing symptoms."

"But they're lying about there being no cure," Axl says, looking at me. "That's what you're working on, right?"

"I'm trying," I admit. "But it's complicated. The virus is unlike anything I've seen before."

Evan turns to me. "How close are you? Really?"

I hesitate, not wanting to crush their hope, but unwilling to lie. "I've identified some compounds that slow the progression, but nothing that reverses the damage. There's something missing… some piece of the puzzle I can't see."

"What do you need?" Evan presses.

I laugh bitterly. "A miracle? More time? Honestly, what I really need is the original documentation from the person who created this virus. Their research notes, their formulas, their intentions. Without that, I'm just stabbing in the dark."

"You're sure it was created?" Axl asks.

"Without a doubt," I say firmly. "This virus was engineered specifically to target shifters. Someone designed it, tested it, and then released it."

"But who would do that?" Axl looks genuinely confused. "And why?"

"Someone who hates shifters," Leo suggests.

"Or someone who wants to control them," Onyx counters.

"And weaponize them," Evan says quietly.

We all turn to look at him.

"What do you know?" I ask, studying his face.

Evan remains expressionless for a moment, then walks to the bar and pours himself a drink. The clink of ice against glass is unnervingly loud in the tense silence.

"Evan," I press. "If you know something, now is the time to share."

He takes a long swallow of his drink, then sets the glass down with deliberate care. "I have it."

My heart skips a beat. "Have what?"

"The original documentation." He meets my gaze steadily. "All of it. The creation of the virus, the testing protocols, everything."

The room goes completely still.

"You what?" Onyx's voice is dangerously soft.

"How?" I demand, stepping toward him. "How do you have those documents?"

Evan's expression remains carefully neutral. "That's not important right now."

"The hell it isn't!" I slam my palm against the bar top. "People are dying, Evan! Mara is dying! And you've had the information that could help me find a cure this entire time?"

"It's complicated," he says.

"Fucking uncomplicate it," Leo growls.

Evan's eyes flash. "You don't get to make demands, Detective."

"I think we all do," Axl interjects, moving to stand beside me. "Especially since you've apparently been holding out."

Onyx takes a step forward. "Give her the documents. Now."

"Or what?" Evan challenges, not backing down. "You'll beat them out of me? Good luck with that."

"Stop it," I snap, stepping between them. "Fighting won't solve anything."

I turn to Evan. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Do you understand what this means? How many lives could have been saved if you'd shared this information from the beginning?"

Something flickers across his face, regret, perhaps, or shame. It's gone so quickly, I might have imagined it.

"I had my reasons," he says.

"They better be fucking good ones," Onyx snarls.

Evan ignores him, focusing solely on me. "I'll give you everything. But first, we need to talk. Privately."

"No way," Axl says immediately. "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of all of us."

"This isn't up for debate," Evan replies coldly.

"Like hell it isn't," Leo steps forward. "You don't get to make the rules anymore, Blackthorn."

I raise my hand, silencing them. "I'll talk to him."

"Dahlia," Onyx warns.

"It's fine," I assure him, though I'm not entirely convinced myself. "If this gets us the information we need, it's worth it."

Evan gestures toward his office down the hall. "After you."

I feel the heated gazes of all four men on my back. As I walk towards his office. As soon as we enter his office, Evan closes the door and locks it.

"That was unnecessary," I say, nodding toward the lock.

"Was it?" He moves to his desk, unlocking a drawer with a key from his pocket. "Those three would break down the door at the first raised voice."

"Can you blame them? You just admitted to withholding crucial information that could save countless lives."

He pulls out a thick file folder and places it on the desk between us. "It's not that simple."

"Then explain it to me," I demand, eyeing the folder but not touching it yet. "Make me understand why you would keep this from me… I got a text that someone was lying to me. I can't believe that was you."

Evan sighs, running a hand through his hair. For the first time since I've known him, he looks uncertain.

Chapter 15 - Evan

"The virus was created by Blackthorn Biotech,"

"What?!" Dahlia stares at me, her face draining of color. "Say that again."

I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet her eyes. "The Crimson Plague was created in Blackthorn Biotech labs. By my company and under my supervision."

She shakes her head slowly, like she's trying to reject the very idea. "No. That's not possible."

I push the folder toward her. "It's all there. It contains every test, and every formula."

Her hands tremble as she opens the folder. She flips through pages of research notes, chemical formulas, and test results.

"You knew." She looks up at me, her eyes blazing. "You fucking knew all along."

"Yes."

"And you kept this from me?" She slams her palm down on the documents. "Do you have any idea what this means? People have died, Evan. They've fucking died while you sat on this information!"

"It wasn't that simple…"

"Bullshit! … What possible reason could justify this? Money? Power? Your fucking reputation?"

"Are you going to say anything?" she demands.

"If you'll let me explain."

"Oh, please do." She crosses her arms. "I'm dying to hear how you justify creating a virus that's killing shifters across the country."

I take a deep breath. "I didn't know what it would become."

She laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "That's your defense?"

"I'm not defending myself… I'm telling you what happened."

She watches me, waiting.

"Before I took over Blackthorn Biotech, I was in the military." I pace the length of my office. "Special ops division that worked with shifter recruits."

"You were a soldier?"

"For eight years." I nod. "That's where I met General Hammond. He was my superior officer and my mentor."

"The man who just declared an open season on shifters was your mentor?" Her voice drips with disbelief.

"He wasn't always like that." I stop pacing and lean against the window. "Or maybe he was, and I just didn't see it. He approached me after I left the service and took over my family's company. He said he had an idea that could help shifters."

"Help them how?"

"That he could create a drug that would enhance their abilities and give them more control." I laugh bitterly.

Dahlia's eyes narrow. "And you believed him?"

"I wanted to." I turn to face her fully. "Think about it, Dahlia. A drug that could give shifters complete control over their transformations. No more accidental shifts during emotional moments. It would have changed everything."

"And made you obscenely rich in the process."

I don't deny it. "The money was a factor, yes. But I also thought we were doing something good. Something revolutionary."

"So, what happened?"

"The initial tests were promising. The drug increased transformation speed and reduced pain. But then subjects started showing instability." I rub my temples, remembering. "Their shifts became erratic. Unpredictable."

"And instead of stopping, you kept going," she accuses.

"Hammond insisted we were close to a breakthrough. That we just needed to refine the formula." I meet her gaze. "What I didn't know was that he had changed the parameters of the research."

"What do you mean?"

"He didn't want a drug that gave shifters control. He wanted the opposite. Hammond wanted to create a biological agent that could trigger transformations on command." My voice hardens. "A weapon to turn shifters into soldiers who could be controlled."

"He wanted to weaponize shifters."

"Exactly." I nod. "By the time I realized what was happening, the drug had gone south, and the virus had already been created. And then one of the test subjects escaped."

"Patient zero," she whispers.

"Yes… I shut down the program immediately, destroyed all the samples I could find. But Hammond had already secured the backing of the government. He took the research and continued elsewhere."

Dahlia sinks into a chair, "Leo's sister died from this virus. Onyx's cousin is dying right now. Hundreds, maybe thousands of shifters are suffering because of what you helped create."

"I know."

"And that's why you've been so desperate for a cure," she says. "It's not out of the goodness of your heart. You're just trying ease your guilty conscience."

I don't answer. What could I possibly say?

"You're a coward," she says softly. "You could have come forward. You could have told the world what Hammond did."

"And accomplish what?" I snap. "Get myself killed? Get thrown in prison? Hammond has the backing of the military and half the government. My word against his would have meant nothing."

"So instead, you hid behind your money and your power while people died."

"I tried to fix it!" I slam my fist on the desk. "Why do you think I sought you out? Why do you think I gave you unlimited funding, the best lab equipment money could buy? I've been trying to undo this, Dahlia."

"While keeping your hands clean," she counters. "While protecting your precious reputation."

"My reputation means nothing to me."

"Bullshit." She stands again and moves towards me. "Everything about you is calculated, Evan. Everything! And it makes me feel like you used me. Like I was a game to you."

"You're not a game, Dahlia. I am not using you. I swear."

She's close enough now that I can smell her scent, and it drives me crazy even as she's tearing me apart.

"You should have told me from the beginning," she says, her voice softer but no less angry.

"I know… I'm sorry." The words feel inadequate, but they're all I have.

"Sorry doesn't bring back the dead." Her eyes shine with unshed tears. "Sorry, doesn't save Mara or anyone else infected with your virus."

"It wasn't my…" I stop myself. "You're right. I share the blame."

"You're unbelievable." She gathers the files, clutching them to her chest.

"I have to protect myself," I argue. "Hammond would kill me if he knew I had these files."

"And that's supposed to make me sympathetic?" She backs toward the door. "You created a virus that's destroying lives, and your biggest concern is saving your own skin?"

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" She laughs, the sound sharp and humorless. "You want to talk about fair? Go tell that to the families of everyone who's died. Go tell Leo his sister's death was 'fair.'"

"Is that what this is about? Your new boyfriend?"

Her eyes narrow. "Fuck you, Evan."

"You nearly did,"

Color floods her cheeks. "That was before I knew what you really are."

"And what am I, exactly?"

"A monster." She reaches for the door handle. "No better than Hammond himself."

"I'm nothing like him."

"Aren't you? You both used shifters for your own gain. The only difference is you feel bad about it afterward."

I move toward her, unable to let her leave with that comparison hanging between us. "I've spent millions trying to find a cure. I've risked everything to keep you safe, to give you what you need to stop this."

"After causing it in the first place!" She backs up against the door. "Don't you dare act like you're some kind of hero."

"I never claimed to be a hero." I stop just inches from her. "But I'm not the villain you want me to be, either."

"Then what are you?"

"A man who made a terrible mistake." My voice drops lower. "A man who's trying to make it right."

Her eyes search for mine, looking for truth or lies. I don't know which she finds.

"I don't know if I can trust you," she says finally.

"You don't have to trust me." I reach past her to unlock the door, my arm brushing hers. "Just use what's in those files to find a cure. That's all that matters now."

She doesn't move, even though the door is unlocked. We stand there, too close.

"Why did you kiss me?" she asks suddenly. "That day in your office. Was that part of your plan too?"

The question catches me off guard. "No."

"Then why?"

"Because I couldn't help myself." I lift my hand, almost touching her face before letting it fall back to my side. "Because from the moment you stormed into my office and called me a corporate parasite, I wanted you."

Her breath catches. "That's not a good enough reason."

"It's the only one I have." I step back, giving her space. "I want you, Dahlia. Even knowing you hate me now. Even knowing you've been with them. I still want you."

"You don't get to say that." Her voice wavers. "Not after what you've done."

"I know." I move back to my desk, putting physical distance between us. "I'm sorry. I know you hate me."

She hesitates, her hand on the doorknob. "I don't hate you."

The words surprise me. "You should."

"Believe me, I'm trying." A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "But hate would be simpler than... whatever this is."

Before I can respond, I hear a sharp beeping sound. Dahlia glances at her watch, her expression changing from conflicted to alarmed in an instant.

"Shit!" She yanks the door open. "His heart rate is crashing!"

Chapter 16 - Evan

The beeping had barely stopped echoing down the hall before the silence became unbearable.

It’s been just over two hours since Dahlia had stabilized the shifter and then locked herself in her room without a word.

"She's been in there for hours," I mutter, staring at Dahlia's closed bedroom door.

Leo leans against the wall opposite me, arms crossed. "Give her space."

"I've given her plenty of space." I run a hand through my hair, probably making it stick up in all directions. "She just found out I helped create the virus that's killing shifters. Space isn't going to fix that."

"Nothing will fix that," Onyx growls from his position by the window.

Axl, sprawled across the couch like he owns the place, watches me with an unnerving intensity. "So, you really did it? Created this plague thing?"

"I didn't know what it would become," I snap, tired of explaining myself.

"But you did it," Axl persists.

I clench my jaw. "Yes."

The silence that follows is heavy with judgment. I deserve it, but that doesn't make it easier to bear.

"Fuck this," I push away from the wall. "I need to talk to her."

Leo steps forward. "She asked not to be disturbed."

"Move," I say quietly.

Something in my voice must convince him I'm serious because he steps aside, though reluctantly.

I walk down the hallway to Dahlia's room and stand outside her door for a moment, gathering my courage. Then I knock softly.

"Who is it?" Her voice sounds exhausted.

"It's me. Evan."

A pause. "Come in."

I push the door open slowly. The room is dimly lit, just a small lamp casting shadows across the walls. Dahlia sits on the edge of her bed, still wearing the same clothes from earlier. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her curls wild from running her hands through them repeatedly.

"Hey," I say, closing the door behind me.

"Hey yourself." She doesn't look up.

I cross the room and sit beside her on the bed, careful to leave space between us. "How's the patient?"

"He's stable." She rubs her eyes. "I had to put him in a medically induced coma. His body was tearing itself apart."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Now she looks at me.

"Yes," I say simply. "For everything."

She studies my face, searching for lies. "You almost let him die. You sat on information that could have helped me save him."

"I know." I look down at my hands. "I hate what I've done, Dahlia. I hate the part I played in all this. That's why I'm trying to fix it."

"By throwing money at the problem or by hiding in your fancy safe house while others suffer?"

"By finding you," I counter, meeting her gaze. "The best geneticist in the country. Maybe the world."

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Flattery won't save you, Evan."

"It's not flattery if it's true." I shift slightly, turning to face her more fully. "I will do everything in my power to make this right. Whatever you need, equipment, resources, test subjects, it's yours."

"What I needed was the truth from the beginning." She pulls her knees up to her chest, making herself smaller. "Do you have any idea how much time I wasted trying to understand this virus? Time I could have spent working on a cure?"

"I'm sorry," I say again, knowing how inadequate the words are.

"Stop saying that." She drops her head to her knees. "Just... stop."

We sit in silence for a moment.

"I'm scared," she finally whispers.

The admission catches me off guard. "Of what?"

"Of failing." She lifts her head, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. "What if I can't find a cure? What if Hammond succeeds in whatever he's planning next? This virus was just the beginning, wasn't it?"

"Probably," I admit. "Hammond isn't the type to give up easily. If this virus fails to meet his expectations, he's likely working on something new."

"That's not comforting."

"It wasn't meant to be." I reach out, hesitating before letting my hand fall back to my side. "But at least now we know what we're up against. We have his research, his formulas. We can work backward from there."

"We?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, we." I hold her gaze. "I'm not walking away from this, Dahlia. I can't. Not until it's fixed."

"You can't fix death," she says softly.

"No," I agree. "But I can prevent more of it."

She wipes her eyes. "I want to hate you."

"I know."

"But I can't." She sighs. "Not when there's a bigger enemy out there. Not when Hammond might be creating something even worse as we speak."

"So, what now?" I ask, hardly daring to hope.

"We work together." She straightens her shoulders. "You have to give me everything you know about Hammond, about the virus, and about the research. No more secrets."

"Done," I say immediately. "No more secrets."

"And you help me in the lab. You were part of the original research team. You understand this virus in ways I don't."

I nod. "Anything else?"

"Yes." She fixes me with a stern look. "You tell the others. All of it. They deserve to know who they're working with."

My stomach tightens. "They'll kill me."

"They won't." She almost smiles. "I won't let them."

"Why would you protect me?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Because I need your brain intact to find this cure." She pushes a curl behind her ear. "And because... I don't think you're a monster. Not completely, anyway."

"That's high praise," I say dryly.

To my surprise, she laughs out loud this time. "You're such an ass."

"I prefer the term 'complicated individual,'" I reply, feeling something in my chest loosen at the sound of her laughter.

"Is that what you want to call it?" She shakes her head, but the ghost of a smile lingers on her lips.

"What would you call it?" I ask, leaning slightly closer.

"A disaster," she says, "A complete and utter disaster."

"That seems fair." I reach out again, and this time I let my fingers brush against hers where they rest on the bed. "For what it's worth, I never meant to hurt you."

"I know." She doesn't pull her hand away. "You're many things, Evan Blackthorn, but you're not cruel. Not deliberately."

"I'm just thoughtless? Selfish? Arrogant?" I supply.

"All of the above." Now she's smiling, though tears still glisten in her eyes. "With a side of insufferable."

"You forgot devastatingly handsome," I add, trying to keep her smiling.

She rolls her eyes. "And modest too."

"Modesty is overrated." I move my thumb across her knuckles in a gentle caress. "Especially when one has so much to be immodest about."

"You're impossible." She laughs again, wiping at her tears with her free hand.

"Yet here you are," I point out, "not kicking me out of your room."

"A lapse in judgment, clearly."

"Or excellent judgment." I smile. "Depending on your perspective."

She studies me, her expression softening. "Why do you make it so hard to stay angry at you?"

"Maybe it's my natural charm?"

"Try again."

"Years of practice deflecting with humor and good looks?"

"Getting warmer." She turns her hand over, her palm now against mine.

My heart beats faster at the small gesture. "Dahlia..."

"What?" Her voice drops lower.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness," I say honestly.

"No, you don't." She intertwines her fingers with mine. "But maybe that's not what this is about."

"What is it about, then?"

"Moving forward." She meets my eyes. "And finding a way through this mess together."

I look down at our joined hands. "I'd like that."

"Me too," she whispers.

The air between us shifts, charges with something electric and inevitable. I lift my gaze to find her watching me, her eyes dark in the dim light.

"Evan?" Her voice is barely audible.

"Yes?"

"Kiss me."

I freeze; certain I've misheard. "What?"

"You heard me." She moves closer, eliminating the space between us on the bed. "Kiss me."

"Are you sure?" I search her face for any sign of doubt. "After everything I've told you…"

"I'm sure," she interrupts. "I'm angry and confused and terrified about what's coming. But right now, at this moment, I want you to kiss me."

I don't need to be told a third time. I cup her face with my free hand, my thumb brushing away the remnants of tears on her cheek. She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed.

I close the distance between us slowly, giving her every chance to change her mind. When my lips finally meet hers, she sighs against my mouth, a sound of surrender that ignites something primal inside me.

The kiss is gentle at first, like a question asked and answered. Then her hands are in my hair, pulling me closer, and all gentleness evaporates. I wrap my arm around her waist, dragging her against me as the kiss deepens.

She tastes like coffee and salt from her tears, and something uniquely Dahlia that I've been craving since that first kiss in my office. I can't get enough.

Her hands roam down my chest, tugging at my shirt. I groan against her mouth as she shifts, swinging one leg over to straddle my lap. The weight of her, the heat of her through our clothes, makes my head spin.

"Dahlia," I gasp as she rocks against me, creating delicious friction where I'm already hard for her.

She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, something between a whimper and a moan that nearly undoes me. Her fingers work at my shirt buttons, clumsy with urgency.

"Wait," I manage to say, pulling back slightly. "Stop."

She freezes, her hands still on my chest. "What's wrong? Don't you want me?"

"Fuck… You have no idea how much I want you. How much self-control I'm exercising right now."

"Then why stop?" She shifts on my lap, and I must bite my lip to keep from groaning.

"Because you just found out I helped create a deadly virus," I remind her, my hands resting on her hips to keep her still. "Because an hour ago, you called me a monster."

"I was angry," she says, with her fingers tracing patterns on my chest through my partially unbuttoned shirt.

"You had every right to be," I catch her hands in mine. "I don't want you to do something you'll regret when your head clears."

She leans forward until her forehead rests against mine. "My head is perfectly clear, Evan. I want this. I want you."

"Dahlia…"

"Shut up," she whispers, her lips brushing mine. "Just shut up and kiss me again."

"Goddamn it," I mutter, and then I'm kissing her, deep and hungry, my hands sliding up her back to tangle in her hair.

She moans into my mouth, rocking against me with more purpose now. I'm painfully hard, straining against my pants, and each movement of her hips sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me.

Her hands return to my shirt, finishing what she started, pushing it off my shoulders. I shrug out of it, never breaking the kiss. Her palms are hot against my bare skin, exploring my chest, my shoulders, my back.

"You feel so good," she murmurs against my lips.

I slip my hands under her shirt, feeling the smooth skin of her waist, her ribs. "So do you."

She pulls back suddenly, and I worry she's changed her mind. But instead of moving away, she slides down my body until she's kneeling between my legs.

"Dahlia," I breathe, watching as she reaches for my belt.

She looks up at me through her lashes, her fingers working the leather strap. "Let me taste you."

My cock jumps at her words. "You don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to," she interrupts, tugging my belt free. "I want to."

I can't form words as she unbuttons my pants and pulls down the zipper. My breath catches when she reaches into my boxers and wraps her hand around me.

"Jesus," I hiss as she pulls me free.

Her eyes widen slightly. "Well, aren't you full of surprises?"

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I manage to ask, my voice rough.

She grins up at me. "Definitely good."

Then her mouth is on me, and coherent thought flies out the window. Her lips wrap around the head of my cock, warm and wet and perfect. I groan, my hands fisting in the bedsheets to keep from grabbing her hair.

"Fuck, Dahlia," I pant as she takes me deeper, her hand working what doesn't fit in her mouth.

She hums around me, and the vibration sends shockwaves of pleasure up my spine. Her eyes never leave mine as she bobs her head, her tongue swirling around the tip each time she pulls back.

"You look so beautiful like this," I tell her, finally giving in to the urge to touch her, brushing a curl from her face.

She takes me deeper in response, her hand tightening around the base. The sight of my cock disappearing between her lips is the most erotic thing I've ever seen.

"Take all of me," I say.

She raises an eyebrow, then she places her hands on either side of my thighs and leans forward, taking me so deep I hit the back of her throat.

"Holy shit," I groan, watching as tears spring to her eyes from the effort.

She pulls back, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting her lips to my cock. Before I can ask if she's okay, she's diving back down, taking me deep again.

"You're going to make me come if you keep that up," I warn her, my thighs tensing with the effort of holding back.

She pulls off with a pop, her hand still stroking me. "That's the idea."

Then she's back at it, her mouth hot and eager, and her hands work in unison. The dual sensation is overwhelming. I thread my fingers through her hair.

"Dahlia," I gasp, feeling the pressure build. "I'm close."

She doesn't stop. If anything, she increases her pace, her eyes locked on mine, watching my face as pleasure overtakes me.

"I'm coming," I warn her, trying to pull her off. "Take it out."

But she doesn't listen. She takes me deeper as I explode, my body jerking with the force of my orgasm. I feel her swallow around me, milking every last drop.

"Fuck," I pant as she finally releases me, sitting back on her heels with a satisfied smile. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," she says simply, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

I stand on shaky legs, tucking myself back into my boxers but letting my pants fall to the floor.

Her eyes widen as I pull my undershirt over my head, now completely bare from the waist up. "What are you doing?"

"Taking off my clothes," I say, kicking off my shoes and socks. "You should do the same."

"You're bossy," she comments, but she's already reaching for the hem of her shirt.

"You have no idea," I reply, pushing my boxers down and stepping out of them.

Her gaze drops to my cock, which is already starting to harden again. "Impressive recovery time."

"What can I say?" I shrug, moving toward her. "You inspire me."

She laughs, pulling her shirt over her head.

"Take off your clothes," I say again. "All of them."

Her laughter fades, replaced by something darker and hungrier. She stands, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. It falls away, revealing perfect breasts with dark nipples already pebbled.

"Beautiful," I murmur, stepping closer.

She unbuttons her jeans next, pushing them down along with her panties, and she steps out of them, now as naked as I am.

"I could look at you all day," I close the distance between us and cup her face, kissing her deeply, and I taste myself on her tongue. I slide my hands down her neck, her shoulders, until I'm cupping her breasts. She moans against my mouth as I brush my thumbs over her nipples.

"Lie down," I whisper against her lips.

She complies, stretching out on the bed, her dark curls fanning across the pillow. I follow, covering her body with mine, and kissing her again as my hand trails down her stomach.

"Tell me what you want," I say, nipping at her lower lip.

"You," she answers immediately. "Your mouth. Your hands. Everything."

I smile against her skin, trailing kisses down her neck. "Be specific."

"I want your mouth on my breasts," she says, her voice breathy. "And then lower."

"As the lady wishes," I murmur, moving down to capture one nipple between my lips.

She arches off the bed with a gasp, her hands flying to my hair. I suck gently, then with more pressure when she moans her approval. My hand kneads her other breast, pinching the nipple between my fingers.

"Evan," she whimpers, her hips rocking up against nothing.

I switch to her other breast, giving it the same attention while my hand slides down her stomach, teasing the skin just above where she wants me most.

"Please," she begs, spreading her legs wider.

I look up at her, her nipple still in my mouth. "Please, what?"

"Touch me," she says, her eyes dark with need. "I need you to touch me."

I release her breast with a final lick and move lower, trailing kisses down her ribs, her stomach, the jut of her hip bone. When I settle between her thighs, she's already wet and swollen, ready for me.

"You're soaked," I run a finger through her folds.

She shivers. "It's your fault."

"I'll take the blame gladly," I say, lowering my head to press a kiss on her inner thigh.

She whimpers, her hands fisting in the sheets. "Don't tease me."

"But it's so fun," I counter, kissing her other thigh, getting closer to where she wants me, but not quite there.

"Evan, I swear to God…"

Her words cut off in a sharp gasp as I finally lick a long stripe through her folds. I groan against her, and she jerks in response.

"More," she demands, her hand finding my hair again.

I oblige, circling her clit with the tip of my tongue before sucking it gently between my lips. At the same time, I slide one finger inside her, then two, curling them to find that spot that makes her see stars.

"Oh fuck," she cries out, her back arching off the bed. "Right there."

I keep the pressure working her with my mouth and fingers until she's writhing beneath me, her thighs trembling on either side of my head. When I feel her getting close, I increase the pace, sucking harder on her clit as my fingers pump faster.

"Oh god, Evan, I'm coming!" Dahlia cries out, her body tensing beneath my mouth as she tumbles over the edge.

Her back arches beautifully off the bed, her thighs clamping around my head as pleasure rips through her.

I slowly withdraw my fingers from inside her and bring them to my mouth, making sure she's watching as I lick them clean.

"Fuck," she whispers, her chest still heaving. "That was..."

"Just the beginning," I finish for her, crawling up her body to capture her mouth in a deep kiss.

She moans against my lips. She slides her hands up my back and digs her nails into my shoulders in a way that sends sparks straight to my cock.

When I pull back, her eyes are dark and hungry despite her recent release. "I'm not stopping anytime soon," I tell her, brushing a curl from her flushed face. "You're going to get exactly what you want."

"Promise?" she challenges, a smile playing at the corners of her swollen lips.

"Oh, I promise," I say as I flip her onto her stomach. "Up," I command, tapping her hip.

She complies immediately, raising her ass in the air while keeping her chest pressed to the mattress. The sight of her presented to me like this, her perfect ass in the air and her pussy glistening with arousal, nearly breaks my control.

"Evan," she gasps, looking back at me over her shoulder.

I run my hands over the smooth curve of her ass, squeezing the firm flesh. "Hold on tight, Dahlia," I warn, positioning myself behind her. "I can't hold myself back anymore."

I lean over her and press my chest against her back as I nip at her earlobe. She shivers beneath me, pushing back against my hardness. "I'm going to be rough," I whisper directly into her ear before sucking the sensitive flesh between my teeth.

She turns her head to catch my mouth in a fierce kiss. "I'm not made of glass," she breathes against my lips. "I don't break easily."

"Fuck," I swear, unable to wait another second.

I grip my cock, guiding it to her entrance, and thrust forward until I'm buried balls deep inside her. The sensation is overwhelming; she's tight, hot, and perfect around me.

"Jesus Christ," I groan as I dig my fingers into her hips to pull back and slam into her again.

"More," she demands, pushing back to meet each thrust.

I give her what she wants and set a punishing pace that has the headboard slamming against the wall. Each stroke drives deeper than the last, and I can feel her tightening around me, already approaching another climax.

"That's it," I encourage, watching her face contort with pleasure. "Come for me again."

She clamps down on me as she shatters, a cry tearing from her throat. But I don't slow down. If anything, I increase my pace, fucking her through her orgasm and pushing her toward another.

"Evan!" she wails, her fingers clawing at the sheets. "Don't stop!"

"Wasn't planning on it," I grunt, continuing my relentless rhythm.

I grab her wrists, pulling them behind her back and holding them there with one hand. The position forces her chest lower and her ass higher, changing the angle of my thrusts. With my free hand, I reach around to find her clit, circling the sensitive bud in time with my movements.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she chants, her voice rising in pitch.

I can feel my own release building, as the pressure coils tight at the base of my spine. "I'm getting close," I warn. "I'm going to come inside you."

Instead of protesting, she pushes back harder against me, meeting each thrust with equal force. "Yes," she moans. "Fill me up."

Her words push me closer to the edge. I release her wrists to grip her hips with both hands, pounding into her with everything I have. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with our heavy breathing and desperate moans.

Suddenly, I feel her inner muscles clench around me in rhythmic pulses as another orgasm tears through her. The tight grip of her body is too much to resist, and I follow her over the edge with a roar, burying myself deep inside her as I begin to spill.

I try to pull out, but she reaches back, grabbing my thigh. "Stay," she gasps, clenching around me impossibly tighter.

I groan as my cock pulses inside her, filling her with hot spurts of my release. The pleasure is so intense my vision blurs at the edges, and for a moment, I forget my own name.

When the last wave passes, we collapse together onto the bed, my body covering hers. I'm careful to keep most of my weight on my forearms, not wanting to crush her beneath me. We lie there panting, sweat cooling on our skin, my cock still buried inside her.

"Holy shit," she says, her voice filled with excitement. "I think I've got it!"

"Got what?" I ask, still dazed by our intense coupling.

"The formula!" She wriggles beneath me, and I reluctantly pull out of her, rolling to the side. "If I'm right about the molecular structure in those files, combined with what I've observed in the shifters blood samples, I might have found the cure!"

I can't help but laugh, even as my ego takes a slight hit. "I must not have fucked you properly if you're still thinking about molecular structures."

She turns to face me, her smile radiant despite her disheveled appearance. "Trust me, the sex was mind-blowing. But this is huge, Evan. This could save lives."

"I know," I say, more seriously. I brush my lips against hers in a gentle kiss. "And I'm glad."

She starts to sit up, but I pull her back down, rolling on top of her again. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To the lab, obviously," she says, though she makes no real effort to escape. "I need to test my theory."

I lower my head to her neck, sucking gently at the pulse point that makes her shiver. "The lab can wait another hour," I murmur against her skin.

"An hour?" She raises an eyebrow, even as her body arches into my touch.

"Maybe two." I trail kisses down her throat to her collarbone. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Evan," she protests weakly.

I lift my head to look into her eyes. "I want to fuck you until you can't think of anything but my cock inside you," I tell her, my voice low and serious.

Her breath catches, her pupils dilating with renewed desire. "That's a tall order, Evan Blackthorn," she says, her hands sliding up my chest. "My brain is pretty active."

"Challenge accepted, Dr. Baldwin." I capture her mouth in a searing kiss, determined to make good on my promise.

When I pull back, her eyes are glazed with lust again. "What about the others?" she asks suddenly. "They'll be wondering where we are."

"Let them wonder," I growl, nipping at her bottom lip. "Right now, you're mine."

"Possessive much?" she teases, though I can feel her heart racing beneath my palm.

"When it comes to you? Absolutely." I slide my hand between her legs, finding her still wet and sensitive. "Say you're mine only."

"You don’t get to keep me, Evan, I’m not only yours."

Chapter 17 - Dahlia

"Holy shit, this can't be right."

I stare at the test results on my screen, blinking hard to make sure I'm not hallucinating from lack of sleep. The genetic markers are unmistakable. All four of them—Evan, Leo, Onyx, and Axl—show perfect compatibility with my Omega DNA.

"Let's rerun it," I mutter to myself, fingers flying across the keyboard to reset the analysis parameters.

Three minutes later, the same results flash across my screen. I slump back in my chair, running both hands through my already wild curls.

"Fucking impossible."

But there it is - black and white. Four Alphas, all genetically compatible with one Omega. Me.

In the shifter world, compatibility like this is rare. Finding one perfect Alpha match is uncommon enough. Two is practically unheard of. But four? It's like winning the lottery while being struck by lightning during a solar eclipse.

My phone buzzes, vibrating across the metal lab table. I glance at the screen and see Emily's face lighting up the display.

"Hey, Em," I answer, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Don't 'hey Em' me!" she exclaims. "It's been days! I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere! Or worse, bored in some corporate lab without me!"

I laugh despite myself. "Sorry, things have been... complicated."

"Complicated how? The last time I saw you was after the rock concert with Detective Hottie, then you disappeared into thin air. I've been texting you for days!"

I glance at my phone and see seventeen unread messages from her. Oops.

"I'm really sorry," I say. "I've been dealing with some... changes."

"Life changes? What, did you join a cult? Get abducted by aliens? Start a new career as a professional snake charmer?"

"Not exactly," I hesitate, then decide to hell with it. Emily's my best friend, and I need to talk to someone who isn't an Alpha with a vested interest in my pants.

I take a deep breath. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out."

"That's impossible. You know I'm genetically predisposed to freaking out."

"Em, I'm serious."

Something in my voice must tip her off because her tone shifts immediately. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Remember when I told you something weird was happening to my body?"

"The uncontrollable horniness? Hard to forget."

"Well, it turns out I'm an Omega."

Silence stretches between us for three beats.

"A what now?" Emily finally asks.

"An Omega. As in Alpha-Beta-Omega dynamics. As in, I'm a shifter, or at least part shifter, and I've been dormant my whole life until recently."

"Holy fucking shit," she breathes. "Are you serious? You're a shifter? Like, grow-fur-and-howl-at-the-moon shifter?"

"I don't think I can fully shift," I explain. "But I'm apparently a rare type that's super compatible with Alphas."

"Alphas... like multiple men?"

I swallow hard. "Yes."

"Wait." I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. "How many hot men are we talking about exactly?"

"Four," I admit as my face heats up.

Emily's shriek is so loud that I must hold the phone away from my ear.

"FOUR? FOUR MEN? FOUR FUCKING ALPHAS?"

"Could you say that louder? I don't think they heard you in Antarctica."

"Dahlia Baldwin, you sneaky bitch! I thought you were working on virus research, not auditioning for 'The Bachelorette: Supernatural Edition'!"

I can't help but laugh. "It wasn't exactly planned."

"Details. Now. I want every single dirty detail."

"I don't even know where to start."

"Start with who's the best in bed," Emily suggests immediately.

"Em!"

"What? It's a perfectly valid scientific inquiry. You're all about data collection, right?"

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "They're all... different."

"Different how? Like different positions? Different sizes? Different techniques?"

"Yes, to all of the above," I mutter, feeling my cheeks burn hotter.

"Oh my god," Emily gasps. "You've slept with all of them, haven't you? My little scientist is a total sex goddess!"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Four hot guys would disagree," she counters. "So, which one has the biggest…"

"I am not discussing penis sizes with you!"

"Fine, fine. But at least tell me who made you come the hardest."

I close my eyes, remembering each encounter. "They all have their... strengths."

"That's a diplomatic answer. Very political. I hate it," Emily declares. "Give me something juicy!"

"Onyx is very... primal," I admit, lowering my voice even though I'm alone. "Leo is surprisingly gentle despite looking like he could bench press a car. Axl is creative, and Evan is... intense."

"Intense how? Like Christian Grey intense or serial killer intense?"

"Neither! Just... focused. Like everything he does with maximum effort and precision."

"Sounds exhausting," Emily remarks.

"In the best possible way," I find myself saying before I can stop the words.

Emily's cackle makes me wince. "Look at you! All flustered and horny just thinking about it!"

"I am not horny," I lie.

"Your voice goes up half an octave when you're turned on. It's doing it right now."

"Can we please talk about something else?" I beg, swiveling back to my computer screen.

"Fine, but this conversation isn't over. So, what are you working on that's so important you've ghosted your bestie?"

I sigh with relief at the change of subject. "The Crimson Plague. It's a virus that's killing shifters."

"That sounds serious."

"It is. And now the government is using it as an excuse to round up all shifters for 'containment,'"

"Shit, that's like Nazi Germany level bad."

"Exactly. So, I'm trying to find a cure before things get worse."

"And your four boyfriends? Where do they fit in?"

"They're not my boyfriends," I protest.

"What would you call them then?"

I pause, considering. "It's complicated."

"That's Facebook relationship status language," Emily scoffs. "Be specific."

"I don't know what they are," I admit. "But I need all of them."

"Need them for what? The cure or your vagina?"

"Emily!" I sputter, nearly dropping my phone.

"What? It's a valid question!"

"Both, okay? I need them for both," I confess, "And I just found out they're all genetically compatible with me. All four of them. Which is supposed to be impossible."

"Wait, like soulmates? You have four soulmates?"

"Something like that. It's more biological than spiritual. Their DNA matches mine in a way that creates perfect hormonal balance."

"So, your body literally craves all of them?" Emily sounds fascinated now.

"Yes. And they're all drawn to me too. It's making things... intense."

"I bet. Four alphas all wanting the same omega? That's like the setup for either the hottest porn ever or a murder spree."

"Thanks for that mental image," I mutter, reaching for a fresh slide to prepare another sample.

"So, what happens now? Do you pick one? Take turns? Set up a rotation schedule?"

I nearly drop the petri dish I'm holding. "I don't know! This isn't exactly covered in dating advice columns."

"You could write one when this is all over. 'How to Manage Your Harem of Hot Supernatural Men' by Dr. Dahlia Baldwin."

I throw my head back and laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"But you love me," Emily sings. "And admit it, I'm asking the questions you're too scared to ask yourself."

She's right, but I'm not about to tell her that. "I need to focus on finding the cure first. Everything else is secondary."

"Even mind-blowing sex with four different guys?"

"Even that," I say firmly, though my body strongly disagrees.

"You're a stronger woman than I am," Emily sighs dramatically. "So, how's the cure coming along?"

"Slowly. I thought I was onto something, so I isolated the virus structure, but I'm still missing it. The virus attacks the cells that control shifting, causing unpredictable transformations that eventually tear the body apart."

"That sounds horrific."

"It is," I confirm, picking up a new slide with a blood sample from Mara. "I'm testing different compounds to see if anything neutralizes it."

As I speak, I reach for another vial, but my elbow knocks over a small container. Before I can react, it spills across my workstation, some of the liquid splashing onto my bare forearm.

"Shit!" I jump back, staring in horror at my skin.

"What? What happened?" Emily asks, alarmed.

"I just spilled... fuck, I just spilled active virus on myself," I whisper, panic rising in my chest.

"What? Dahlia, what does that mean?"

"It means I might get infected," I say, already rushing to the decontamination shower in the corner of the lab. "I have to go. I'll call you back."

I hang up before she can respond, stripping off my lab coat and shirt as I hit the emergency shower button. Cold water pours down, washing away the virus… I hope. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.

Five minutes later, dripping wet and wrapped in a lab emergency blanket, I stare at my arm under a magnifying glass. No signs of infection yet, but the virus can take hours to manifest.

With shaking hands, I draw my own blood, preparing slides to check for infection. If I'm infected, I have maybe 48 hours before the symptoms start, before my body begins tearing apart. But I'm not a shifter, so how will the virus play out in my own body?

I run every test I can think of, checking and double-checking the results. Hours pass as I wait for the virus to appear in my bloodstream, for the first signs of cellular degradation.

Nothing.

I frown, peering at the slides again. My blood looks completely normal. No viral particles, no cell damage, nothing.

"That's not possible," I mutter, preparing another sample.

The results come back the same. My blood shows no signs of infection.

On a hunch, I take a sample of Mara's infected blood and mix it with mine in a petri dish. Under the microscope, I watch in amazement as something in my blood attacks the virus, neutralizing it completely.

"Holy shit," I breathe, watching the viral particles disintegrate on contact with my blood.

I rerun the test. And again. Each time, the results are the same. My blood kills the virus on contact.

My phone rings, and I answer without looking, my eyes still fixed on the microscope.

"Dahlia? Are you okay?" Emily's voice is frantic. "It's been three hours!"

"I'm immune," I whisper, stunned.

"What?"

"The virus. I spilled it on myself, but I'm not infected. My blood actually destroys it."

"Is that... normal?"

I laugh, and it sounds slightly hysterical. "Nothing about this is normal, Em. But I think..." I pause, watching as another batch of virus particles dissolves in my blood sample. "I think I just found the cure."

Chapter 18 - Onyx

"You're going to work yourself to death."

I stand in the doorway of the lab, watching Dahlia hunch over her microscope like it holds all the secrets of the universe. She doesn't even look up when I enter. Typical. When she's in this mode, a bomb could go off and she wouldn't notice.

"I brought coffee," I add, holding up the steaming mug as a peace offering.

That gets her attention. Her head snaps up, and she blinks rapidly like she's coming out of a trance. Dark circles shadow underneath her eyes, and her wild curls look like she's been running her hands through them for hours.

"Oh my god, you're my hero," she breathes, making grabby hands at the cup.

I cross the room and set it beside her, careful not to disturb the organized chaos of her workstation. "When's the last time you slept?"

"Sleep is for the weak," she mutters, taking a long sip. Her eyes close in pleasure, and a small moan escapes her lips.

My wolf stirs at the sound. Fuck. Even exhausted and wearing a lab coat splattered with who-knows-what, she does things to me I can't control.

"Find anything interesting?" I ask, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms to keep from touching her.

Her eyes fly open, suddenly bright with excitement. "Onyx, I think I found it. The cure."

"What?" I straighten immediately. "Are you serious?"

"I had an accident." She rolls up her sleeve, showing me her forearm. "I spilled an active virus on myself."

"You what?" My voice drops dangerously low. "Are you fucking insane?"

"It was an accident!" She holds up her hands defensively. "I knocked over a vial."

"Jesus Christ, Dahlia!" I grab her arm, examining it closely like I might see the virus crawling on her skin. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You could be infected right now!"

"But I'm not," she says, pulling her arm back. "That's the whole point. I'm immune."

I stare at her, not comprehending. "Immune? How?"

"My blood." She spins in her chair, pointing at a screen filled with images I don't understand. "Watch this."

She clicks a button, and a video plays showing red cells floating in plasma. Then tiny dark particles enter the frame, which I assume are the virus. The moment they touch the blood cells, they disintegrate.

"What am I looking at?" I ask, leaning closer.

"That's my blood destroying the virus," she explains, her voice trembling with excitement. "My Omega DNA contains a unique protein that prevents the virus from attaching to my cells. It dissolves on contact."

I shake my head, struggling to process this. "So, you're saying your blood is the cure?"

"Not exactly. I can't just donate blood to cure everyone." She turns back to face me. "But I believe I can isolate this protein and create a synthetic version that would work for all shifters."

Hope flares in my chest for the first time in months. "You think it'll work?"

"I'm almost certain." She bites her lip, a gesture I find impossibly distracting. "I've already started the isolation process."

I want to be happy, ecstatic, even, but all I can think about is how close she came to infection. "You could have died, you know that? If you weren't immune, you'd be convulsing on the floor right now."

Her excitement dims slightly. "I know. It was stupid and careless."

"Careless doesn't begin to cover it." I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm the panic still racing through my veins. "What if you weren't immune? What if your blood wasn't special? What then?"

"Then I'd be in trouble," she admits quietly. "But I'm not. I'm fine."

"This time," I growl. "What about next time you decide to play Russian roulette with deadly viruses?"

She stands up suddenly, poking me in the chest with her finger. "I didn't decide anything! It was an accident! And instead of lecturing me about safety protocols, maybe you could be a little excited that I might have just found the thing that will save your cousin's life?"

We're toe to toe now, her chin tilted up defiantly, and her eyes flashing. My gaze drops to her mouth, remembering how those lips felt against mine. The air between us crackles with tension.

"I am excited," I say. "And terrified. And fucking furious that you put yourself at risk."

"Why do you care so much?" she challenges.

"You know why."

She swallows hard, taking a small step back. "Onyx..."

"Don't." I hold up a hand. "We don't need to have that conversation right now. Tell me more about this cure."

Relief flickers across her face at the change of subject. She turns back to her computer, pulling up complex diagrams and charts.

"The protein in my blood targets the virus specifically," she explains. "It doesn't affect any other cells. It's like it was designed to fight this exact pathogen."

"That's... convenient," I say slowly.

She nods. "Too convenient, maybe. I've been thinking about that. What are the odds that I'd have exactly the right antibody for a virus that was engineered in a lab?"

"You think there's a connection?" I lean against the counter again, watching her face.

"I think nothing about this situation is random." She tucks a curl behind her ear. "My Omega awakening, the virus outbreak, finding all of you... It feels like pieces of a puzzle I can't quite see."

"How's that going? This whole... multiple Alpha situation."

Her cheeks flush pink. "It's complicated."

"I bet." I can't keep the edge from my voice. "Four Alphas for one Omega. That's quite a harem you've collected."

"It's not like that," she protests. "I didn't go looking for any of you. You all just... happened."

"All at once? That's one hell of a coincidence."

She sighs, rubbing her temples. "According to my research, it's unprecedented. Most Omegas have only one compatible Alpha, and possibly two in rare cases. Four is..."

"Greedy?" I suggest with a raised eyebrow.

That earns me a glare. "I was going to say, 'statistically improbable.'"

"So why us? Why all four?"

"I have a theory." She leans back in her chair, looking up at me. "My Omega biology was dormant for over thirty years. When it finally awakened, it was like a dam breaking. All that pent-up energy and biological imperative coming out at once."

"Making up for lost time," I mutter.

"Exactly." She nods. "Instead of finding one compatible Alpha for normal Omega development, I found all of you at once. Like my body couldn't decide which one was best, so it chose... all of the above."

"Lucky us," I say dryly.

Her eyes narrow. "You don't have to sound so thrilled about it."

"Oh, I'm thrilled to share you with three other men," I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's every Alpha's dream."

"I didn't ask for this either, you know." She stands again, hands on her hips. "One minute I'm a normal human scientist, the next I'm some rare Omega with four possessive Alphas breathing down my neck. You think that's easy?"

"I think you're enjoying it more than you let on."

Her mouth opens, then closes, her cheeks flushing darker. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" I step closer, invading her space. "Your scent changes when you talk about them. Your pupils dilate. Your heart beats faster."

"My body reacts to all of you," she admits quietly. "I can't help that."

"And what about the rest of you? Your mind? Your heart?" I reach out, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "What do they want?"

She leans into my touch, just slightly. "I don't know yet."

It's not the answer I want, but it's honest. I can respect that.

"So, what's next?" I ask, dropping my hand. "With the cure, I mean."

She seems relieved by the shift back to safer territory. "I've isolated enough of the protein to make a small test dose. It's not much, but it might be enough to show if I'm on the right track."

"Have you tested it on infected blood samples?"

"Yes, and it works beautifully in vitro." She bites her lip again. "But that's not the same as testing it in a living subject."

My heart skips a beat. "Mara."

She nods slowly. "She's the most advanced case we have. If it works on her..."

"Then it could work for anyone," I finish.

"But Onyx, I need you to understand the risks." Her expression turns serious. "This is experimental. Untested. It could do nothing. It could make her worse. It could…"

"Kill her?" I ask bluntly.

"Yes." She doesn't sugarcoat it. "I wouldn't normally suggest human trials this early, but time isn't on our side. Hammond's containment squads are already rounding up shifters. And Mara..."

"Is dying anyway," I say. "How long does she have without the treatment?"

Dahlia's eyes soften with sympathy. "Days. Maybe less."

I take a deep breath, weighing the options. Mara is more than my cousin; she's like a sister to me. After her parents died, she became my responsibility. My pack. My family.

"Do it," I say finally. "Test it on her."

"Are you sure?" Dahlia searches my face. "This isn't just your decision. It's hers too."

"She'd want to try." Of this, I'm certain. "Mara's a fighter. She'd rather go down swinging than waste away in that bed."

Dahlia nods, turning to a small, refrigerated unit in the corner of the lab. She pulls out a tiny vial filled with clear liquid.

"Is this?" I ask, surprised by how ordinary it looks.

"Sometimes the most powerful things come in small packages," she says with a small smile.

We head to the medical room where Mara lies hooked up to monitors. Her condition has deteriorated since yesterday. Her breathing is labored, and the monitors show her heart rate is erratic.

Dahlia approaches the bed, checking Mara's vitals. "Her fever's up. 104.2."

"Is that too high for the treatment?" I ask, hovering nearby.

"No, but it's not ideal." She prepares a syringe, drawing the clear liquid from the vial. "I'm going to inject it directly into her bloodstream. If it works, we should see results quickly."

I move to Mara's side, taking her hand in mine. Her skin burns against my palm. "Hang in there, little cousin," I murmur. "Help is coming."

Dahlia finds a vein in Mara's arm and slides the needle in before she pushes the plunger until all the liquid is gone.

For several seconds, nothing happens. Then Mara's body goes rigid, and her back arches off the bed. The monitors start beeping frantically as her heart rate spikes.

"What's happening?" I demand, gripping Mara's hand tighter.

"Her body's fighting the treatment," Dahlia says, moving quickly to check the monitors. "It's an immune response. I expected it, but this is intense."

Mara begins to convulse, her limbs jerking violently. I must let go of her hand to help Dahlia hold her down.

"Should we stop it?" I ask, panic rising in my chest.

"We can't." Dahlia's voice is strained as she struggles to keep Mara from hurting herself. "The protein's already in her system. We have to let it run its course."

Mara lets out a scream that turns into a howl halfway through. It's a sound of pure agony that cuts me to the bone. Her skin ripples more violently now, the partial transformations happening faster and faster.

"Come on, Mara," Dahlia urges. "Fight it. Fight through it."

Just when I think Mara can't take it anymore, her body suddenly goes limp. The monitors stop their frantic beeping, settling into a steady rhythm. Her breathing evens out, and the patches of fur recede completely.

"Is she..." I can't finish the question.

"Her vitals are stabilizing," Dahlia says, checking the monitors. "Heart rate normal. Blood pressure returning to baseline. Temperature... dropping."

Hope blooms in my chest. "Is it working?"

"I think so." Dahlia presses a hand to Mara's forehead. "Her fever's breaking. And look… the partial shifts have stopped."

I watch in amazement as Mara's skin remains human. Her breathing is deep and even now, like she's fallen into a peaceful sleep.

"How long until we know for sure?" I ask, hardly daring to believe what I'm seeing.

"If she stays stable for the next hour, it's a good sign." Dahlia checks Mara's pupils with a small flashlight. "I'll need to take blood samples to confirm the virus is being neutralized."

I nod, unable to take my eyes off Mara's face. The pain lines that have been etched there for weeks seem to be softening already.

"You did it," I whisper, turning to Dahlia. "You actually fucking did it."

She shakes her head. "We don't know that yet. This could be temporary. Or she could relapse. Or…"

I cut her off by pulling her into my arms. She stiffens in surprise, then melts against me, and presses her face against my chest.

"Thank you," I murmur into her hair. "Even if it doesn't last, you gave her a chance. You gave all of us a chance."

Her arms tighten around my waist. "I couldn't have done it without you. Any of you."

I pull back slightly, looking down at her upturned face. "I think you could have done it without us. But I'm glad you didn't have to."

"Onyx..."

Whatever she was about to say is interrupted by a small sound from the bed. We both turn to see Mara's eyelids fluttering.

Then her eyes open.

Chapter 19 - Axl

Ican't stop checking my phone as I punch in the security code to Blackthorn's fancy safe house. It's been three days. Three fucking days I've been gone, and it feels like three years. My thumb hovers over Dahlia's name in my contacts for the hundredth time today, but I shove the phone back in my pocket instead.

She doesn't need me blowing up her phone when she's trying to save the world.

I push open the door. The main living area is empty, but I hear voices from down the hall, Dahlia's voice, specifically. My heart does that stupid little jump it always does when I hear her.

"Hello?" I call out, dropping my guitar case by the door. "Anybody home?"

The voices stop abruptly. Then I hear quick footsteps, and suddenly Dahlia appears in the hallway. She freezes when she sees me, her eyes going wide.

"Axl?" She blinks like she can't believe I'm standing there. "You're back."

"In the flesh." I spread my arms wide, trying to be casual even though my pulse is racing. "Miss me?"

She stares at me for another heartbeat, then launches herself across the room. Before I can react, she crashes into me, her arms wrapping around my neck so tightly I almost can't breathe.

"Whoa." I laugh, catching her against me. "I'll take that as a yes."

"You disappeared," she says against my neck. "You didn't even say goodbye."

I wrap my arms around her waist, breathing in her scent. "I know. I'm sorry. Something came up that I had to handle."

She pulls back to look at me, her hands still on my shoulders. "For three days? Without a single text?"

"Would you believe my phone died and I forgot my charger?"

"No."

"It was worth a shot." I tuck a curl behind her ear. "The truth is, I had some business to take care of. Band stuff. Manager stuff. Life-outside-this-crazy-shifter-drama stuff."

She studies my face, and I can see the exact moment she decides to let it go. Her expression softens, and she steps back, though her hands linger on my arms like she's making sure I'm here.

"Well, you picked a hell of a time to come back," she says.

"Why? What happened?" I look past her down the hallway. "Where is everyone?"

A smile breaks across her face, so bright it's almost blinding. "I found it, Axl. I found the cure."

For a second, I don't process what she's saying. Then it hits me.

"The cure? For the Crimson Plague? Are you fucking serious?"

She nods, practically vibrating with excitement. "I tested it on Mara this morning. And on the infected shifter we captured. Both of them are showing signs of improvement."

"Holy shit." I stare at her in amazement. "You actually did it."

"I think so. We're still monitoring them, but…."

I don't let her finish. I grab her by the waist and lift her off her feet, spinning her in a circle. Her surprised laugh is the best thing I've heard in days.

"You are fucking genius!" I shout, spinning her again. "I knew you could do it!"

She's laughing so hard she can barely speak when I finally set her down. "It's still preliminary," she says, trying to catch her breath. "We need more tests, more data…"

"Screw the data." I cup her face in my hands. "You're brilliant. You're amazing. You're the smartest person I've ever met."

Her cheeks flush pink under my praise.

"This calls for a celebration." I drop my hands to her shoulders, suddenly struck with inspiration. "I know exactly where we should go."

"Go?" She raises an eyebrow. "Go where?"

"I'm playing a private show tonight. It's an exclusive venue, invitation only." I grin at her. "And I happen to have a plus-one."

Her eyes light up for a moment, then dim. "I can't leave. I need to monitor the patients, run more tests…"

"One night," I interrupt. "Just a few hours to celebrate this massive breakthrough. You deserve it."

She bites her lip, clearly tempted. "I don't know..."

"What don't you know?" A deep voice asks from behind her.

I look up to see Leo standing in the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest. Great. The fun police have arrived.

"Axl wants to take me out to celebrate," Dahlia explains, turning to face him. "He's playing a private show tonight."

Leo's expression darkens. "That's out of the question. It's not safe."

"Come on, man," I argue. "It's a secure venue with a private entrance. No one will even know she's there."

"No." Another voice joins in, and I see Onyx appearing behind Leo. "We can't risk it."

Dahlia's shoulders stiffen. "Well thank God, I wasn't asking permission."

"You can't go anywhere until we know Hammond isn't tracking you," Onyx says, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"I haven't left this house in days," Dahlia counters. "I've been working non-stop. I need a break. I deserve a break"

"A break shouldn't mean risking your life," Leo points out.

I step forward, placing a hand on Dahlia's shoulder. "Look, I get your concerns. But I'm not exactly helpless. I have private security. We'll be careful."

"It's not happening," Onyx growls.

Dahlia's eyes flash with anger. "I'm going. I've found a cure that could save thousands of lives. I've earned one night off."

"We should at least come with you," Leo suggests.

"No." Dahlia shakes her head firmly. "I need space. From all of this. Just for a few hours."

The silence that follows is heavy. I watch as Dahlia stares down both Alphas, her chin lifted in defiance.

"I promise this is the only time I'll ask to leave until everything is sorted out," she says finally. "After tonight, I'll stay put. But I'm going to this concert with Axl."

Leo and Onyx exchange a look, having some silent communication that makes me want to roll my eyes.

"Fine," Leo says eventually. "But you take a secure phone that I can track. And you check in every hour."

"And you're back by midnight," Onyx adds. "No exceptions."

Dahlia's face breaks into a smile. "Deal." She turns to me. "Give me thirty minutes to get ready."

"Take your time," I say, grinning at her excitement. "The show doesn't start until nine."

She practically skips down the hallway toward her room. Once she's gone, both men turn their attention to me, and the temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.

"If anything happens to her," Onyx says quietly, "I will tear you apart."

"Slowly," Leo adds.

I hold up my hands. "Message received. But nothing's going to happen. I'll protect her with my life."

Neither of them seemed convinced, but they back off, returning to whatever they were doing before I arrived. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Christ, those two are intense.

Thirty minutes later, Dahlia comes out of her room, and my jaw nearly hits the floor. She's wearing a black dress that hugs every curve, her wild curls tamed into some kind of artful chaos around her face. She's applied makeup that makes her eyes look even bigger, her lips fuller.

"Wow," is all I can manage.

She spins in a slow circle. "Will this work for your fancy private concert?"

"You could wear a potato sack and still be the most beautiful woman there." The words come out before I can stop them, completely sincere.

Her cheeks flush again. "Smooth talker."

"Only when I mean it." I offer her my arm. "Shall we?"

She takes it, smiling up at me. "Lead the way, rock star."

We make it to the door before Leo appears, holding out a small phone. "Every hour," he reminds her.

"Yes, Dad," she says, rolling her eyes but taking the phone.

Onyx doesn't say anything and just watches us. I can feel his gaze burning into my back until the doors close.

"They're just worried about you," I say as we descend.

"I know." She sighs. "But I needed to get out of there. Even just for one night."

"Well, you're in for a treat." I guide her to where my driver is waiting. "Tonight is going to be unforgettable."

And I mean to keep that promise.

The venue is a renovated theater in the heart of downtown, featuring Art Deco glamour and velvet seats. I bring Dahlia in through the back entrance, my security team keeping a respectable distance as we make our way to the green room.

"This place is incredible," she says, looking around with wide eyes.

"Wait until you see it from the stage." I grab two bottles of water from a cooler and hand her one. "The acoustics are insane."

She takes the water but doesn't open it, too busy taking in everything around us. "How many people will be here?"

"About three hundred. All personally invited." I step closer to her. "But I'm only playing for one."

Her eyes meet mine, and something electric passes between us. "Lucky me."

"Lucky me," I correct her. "Having you in the audience gives me a reason to play my best."

A knock at the door interrupts us. "Five minutes, Axl," my stage manager calls.

"Be right there." I turn back to Dahlia. "I've got a special seat for you at the side stage, where you can see everything."

She follows me through a maze of hallways until we reach the wings of the stage. A single chair sits just offstage, positioned perfectly to see both the performance and the audience.

"Your throne awaits," I say with a dramatic bow.

She laughs, taking the seat. "I feel like royalty."

"You are." I lean down to kiss her cheek. "My Omega queen."

Before she can respond, the house lights dim, and the crowd begins to cheer. My band is already taking their positions on stage.

"That's my cue." I grab my guitar from where a tech is holding it. "Enjoy the show."

The moment I step onto the stage, the crowd erupts. The energy is electric, feeding something primal inside me. But for the first time in my career, the audience isn't what matters. My eyes keep drifting to the side of the stage, where Dahlia watches with a smile that outshines every spotlight.

We play through our set, the music flowing through me like a living thing. When we reach the final song, I step up to the microphone.

"This next song is new," I tell the crowd. "It's something I've been working on. It's for someone special who's here tonight. Someone who's changed my life in ways I'm still trying to understand."

I glance at Dahlia, who's watching me with wide eyes. The band starts a slow, haunting melody, and I begin to sing. The lyrics came to me in a fever dream the night after I met her, about finding something you never knew you were missing, about a connection that defies explanation.

As I sing the final chorus, I turn fully toward where she sits, no longer pretending I'm singing to anyone else. The last note hangs in the air for a breathless moment before the crowd explodes with applause.

I barely hear it. All I see is Dahlia, with tears shining in her eyes, looking at me like I've given her the moon.

"That song," she says softly. "Was it really for me?"

"Every word." I set my guitar down. "Did you like it?"

She crosses the room in three quick steps and throws her arms around my neck. "It was beautiful," she whispers against my ear.

I hold her close, breathing in her scent. "I wrote it the night we met. It just... poured out of me."

She pulls back to look at me, her hands still linked behind my neck. "No one's ever written a song for me before."

"Well, get used to it. I've got about ten more started."

She laughs, "You're something else, Axl Valentine."

"So, I've been told." I tuck a curl behind her ear. "Are you hungry? I've got dinner waiting for us back at my place."

"Your place?" She raises an eyebrow.

"My penthouse will be private."

She considers this for a moment, then nods. "Lead the way."

My penthouse takes up the top two floors of one of the city's most exclusive buildings. Its floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the skyline, glittering like stars against the night sky. But the real showstopper is the rooftop terrace, where I've had dinner set up.

"This is incredible," Dahlia breathes as we step outside.

The terrace is lit with string lights, creating a warm glow over the table set for two. A bottle of champagne chills in an ice bucket, and covered dishes wait to be revealed.

"I figured we could use some peace and quiet," I say, pulling out her chair.

She sits, looking around in wonder. "It's perfect."

I pour champagne for both of us, then lift my glass. "To the brilliant Dr. Baldwin, the savior of shifters everywhere."

She clinks her glass against mine. "And to your new songs and new beginnings."

She sits between my legs, her back against my chest, and my arms are wrapped around her waist.

"Thank you for tonight," she says, her head resting on my shoulder. "I needed this more than I realized."

"Anytime." I press a kiss to her temple. "I'm always up for rescuing beautiful scientists from their laboratories."

She turns in my arms to face me, her eyes reflecting the string lights above us. "Is that what this was? A rescue mission?"

"Maybe." I brush my thumb across her lower lip. "Or maybe I just wanted you all to myself for a change."

"Are you jealous of the others?" She smiles, a teasing glint in her eye.

"Should I be?"

Instead of answering, she leans forward and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is soft at first, but it quickly deepens as her hands slide up my chest to my shoulders.

I pull her closer, one hand tangling in her curls as the other wraps around her waist. She shifts until she's straddling my lap, her dress riding up her thighs.

"I've been thinking about this," she murmurs against my lips. "About you."

"Yeah?" I slide my hands up her thighs, feeling her shiver at my touch. "What kind of thoughts?"

She rocks against me, the friction making me groan. "The kind that would make you blush."

"I doubt that." I nip at her lower lip. "I'm not exactly known for my innocence."

"No?" She pulls back slightly, "Then maybe I should show you instead."

She climbs off my lap, and for a moment I think I've said something wrong. But then she reaches behind her and slowly pulls down the zipper of her dress. It falls to the ground in a whisper of fabric, leaving her in nothing but black lace underwear.

"Fuck," I breathe, taking in the sight of her. "You're gorgeous."

She steps forward, between my legs, and places her hands on my shoulders. "Take off your shirt."

I don't need to be told twice. I pull my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. Her hands immediately go to my chest, tracing the lines of my tattoos with her fingertips.

"I've wanted to do this since I first saw this," she admits, following the curve of the wolf on my chest.

"He is all yours." I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips. "I'm all yours."

She smiles, a predatory gleam in her eye. "Good answer."

Chapter 20 - Dahlia

Istep between his legs, running my hands along his shoulders, feeling the firm muscle beneath my fingertips. There's something intoxicating about having this powerful man watching me with such hunger in his eyes.

"I'm going to take my time with you," I whisper, leaning down to press my lips to his collarbone.

His breath catches as I trail kisses down his chest, following the intricate lines of his tattoos. The wolf design is beautiful and it's almost alive under my touch. I trace it with my tongue, tasting the salt of his skin, and feeling him shiver beneath me.

"Dahlia," he groans, his hands finding my hips.

I sink lower, dropping to my knees between his legs, my mouth exploring the hard planes of his stomach. The night air is cool against my bare skin, but I'm burning up inside. Each sound he makes sends another wave of heat straight to my core.

Axl's head falls back as I reach the waistband of his jeans. "Fuck, we should go inside," he manages, his voice strained.

I look up at him through my lashes, nodding slowly. "Take me to bed, rock star."

He stands and lifts me like I weigh nothing, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, feeling the hard length of him press against me through his jeans. His mouth finds mine in a hungry kiss as he carries me across the terrace, through the sliding doors, and into his bedroom.

The room is dominated by an enormous bed with dark sheets. He drops me onto it, and the mattress bounces slightly beneath me. Before I can catch my breath, he's over me, his weight supported on his arms as he captures my mouth again.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he murmurs against my lips.

His mouth moves down my neck, trailing hot kisses along my collarbone. When he reaches my breasts, still covered in black lace, he looks up at me, and I arch my back in a silent invitation. He groans and lowers his head to suck one nipple through the thin fabric.

"Oh god," I gasp, threading my fingers through his hair.

He takes his time, sucking on my breast before moving to the other. The combination of his hot mouth and the rough lace creates a friction that has me squirming beneath him. When he finally reaches behind me to unclasp my bra, I lift slightly to help him remove it.

"They are so full," he breathes, taking in the sight of me.

His mouth returns to my breasts, this time with nothing between us. The wet heat of his tongue circling my nipple sends shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I moan as he sucks harder, using just enough teeth to make me gasp.

His hand slides down my stomach, and fingers dip beneath the waistband of my panties. The heat of his touch is electric, but suddenly I'm seized by a need to be in control. I've spent so much of the last few weeks reacting to my changing body, to the alphas around me, to the crisis at hand. Tonight, I want to lead.

I catch his wrist, stopping his movement. "Wait."

He freezes immediately. "Is everything okay?"

"More than okay," I assure him. "But I want to be in control tonight."

A slow smile spreads across his face, as his eyes darken with desire. "Anything you want, darling. I'm all yours."

He rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him. The power shift is intoxicating. I straddle his hips, feeling his hardness pressing against me through his jeans. I lean down to kiss him deeply, my hair falling around us like a curtain.

"You have no idea how sexy you are right now," he says, his hands running up my sides.

I smile against his lips, then begin my journey down his body. I take my time, exploring every inch of his chest with my mouth. When I reach his nipples, I take one between my teeth, mimicking what he did to me. His sharp intake of breath tells me he likes it.

"Fuck, Dahlia," he groans, his hips lifting slightly beneath me.

I continue lower, tracing the lines of his abs with my tongue. When I reach the waistband of his jeans, I unbutton them slowly, teasingly. He lifts his hips to help as I pull them down, leaving him in just his boxers.

The outline of his cock is prominent through the thin fabric. I trace it with my finger, watching his face as his jaw tightens with restraint.

"These need to go too," I say, hooking my fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

I pull them down, and his cock springs free, hard and ready.

"Well," I murmur, wrapping my hand around him. "No wonder you're so confident."

He laughs, the sound turning into a groan as I stroke him slowly. "That's all for you, baby."

I continue my leisurely pace, watching his reactions carefully. His breathing quickens when I twist my wrist slightly at the top, and his hands fist in the sheets when I use my thumb to spread the bead of moisture at his tip.

Then I stop, my hand stilling completely.

"Don't tease me," he growls, his hips jerking involuntarily.

I lock my eyes with his, maintaining the connection as I lower my head. His pupils dilate as he realizes what I'm about to do. Slowly, deliberately, I take him into my mouth.

"Holy fuck," he gasps, one hand moving to tangle in my hair.

I take him deeper, loving the weight of him on my tongue. His taste is masculine and heady, and the sounds he makes as I bob my head drive me wild. His hand in my hair doesn't push or pull, it just follows my movements, occasionally tightening when I hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"That's it," he encourages. "You take my cock so beautifully."

His words send a thrill through me. I increase my pace, taking him deeper, using my hand on what doesn't fit in my mouth. I can feel him tensing, and his thighs hardening beneath me.

"Dahlia," he warns, his grip on my hair tightening. "I'm going to cum if you keep that up."

I pull my mouth away, looking up at him. His chest is heaving, and his eyes are wild with need.

"I want you to cum inside me," I tell him.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he swears, his cock twitching at my words. “I love you... I fucking love you."

I stand up from the bed and take off my panties. His eyes follow my every move as I slide them down my legs, stepping out of them completely. I'm now entirely naked before him, and the hunger in his gaze makes me feel powerful.

I climb back onto the bed, straddling him again. Instead of taking him inside me immediately, I position myself so my wet center slides against his length. The friction is exquisite, and I can't help the moan that escapes me.

"Oh god," I breathe, rocking against him again. "That feels so good."

I continue this torturous movement, feeling him slide through my folds without entering me. I'm dripping wet, so my arousal coats him, making the glide smooth and delicious. The sound is obscene, and it only turns me on more.

"Dahlia," Axl groans beneath me, his hands gripping my hips. "You're killing me."

I smile down at him, feeling wicked and free. The old Dahlia would never do this. But I'm not that woman anymore. I've changed, evolved, and I'm embracing every new aspect of myself.

I reach between us and take his cock in my hand. I position him at my entrance, holding his gaze as I slowly sink down onto him.

"Ahhh," I gasp as he fills me completely. The stretch is delicious, bordering on too much but perfect all at once. "Oh my god."

I stay still for a moment, adjusting to his size. He watches me with wonder, his hands gentle on my hips now, giving me time.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs.

I begin to move, rolling my hips in a slow rhythm. The sensation is overwhelming as I feel so full, so stretched, so perfectly connected to him.

"It's so fucking good," I moan, increasing my pace slightly. "Axl, it's so good."

His hands move to my breasts, cupping them as they bounce with my movements. I lean forward slightly, changing the angle.

"Suck my breasts,"

He sits up partially and wraps one arm around my waist to support me as his mouth captures one nipple. The new position drives him even deeper inside me, and I cry out at the intensity.

"Yes," I pant, grinding down harder. "Just like that."

He switches to my other breast, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before sucking hard. The dual sensation of his cock inside me and his mouth on my breast pushes me closer to the edge.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my skin. "You're riding my cock like you were made for it."

His words ignite something primal in me. I move faster, chasing my pleasure with single-minded determination. He meets each of my downward movements with an upward thrust, driving himself impossibly deeper.

"I'm close," I gasp, feeling the pressure building inside me. "So close."

"That's it, baby," he encourages, and he slides his hand between us to circle my clit. "Let go for me. I want to feel you cum on my cock."

His touch is electric, precisely where I need it. My movements become erratic as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak.

"Axl!" I cry out as the dam breaks, waves of ecstasy washing over me.

I clench my pussy around him as I cum hard. The intensity is so great that I feel a gush of wetness release from me, soaking us both.

"Fuck," Axl groans, his eyes wide with wonder. "Did you just…"

He doesn't finish the thought as his own orgasm overtakes him. With a guttural moan, he thrusts up one final time, burying himself deep as he pulses inside me. I feel the hot spurts of his release, filling me completely.

We stay connected for a long moment, both of us panting and trembling with aftershocks. When I finally lift myself off him, I feel his cum dripping from me, and running down my inner thigh in a way that should be messy but feels strangely intimate.

"Let's take a shower."

Axl and I stumble into his enormous bathroom, our limbs still weak from pleasure, unable to keep our hands off each other. We step under the warm water.

I close my eyes, letting it wash away the sweat and evidence of our passion. When I open them again, Axl is watching me with an intensity that makes my heart skip.

"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

"You're just..." he trails off, shaking his head slightly. "I can't believe you're real sometimes."

I laugh, reaching for the shampoo bottle. "I'm very real. Complete with bedhead and morning breath."

"Both of which I'm looking forward to experiencing," he says, taking the shampoo from my hands. "Let me."

He pours a generous amount into his palm and begins working it through my curls. His fingers massage my scalp with surprising gentleness, and I can't help the small moan that escapes me.

"That feels amazing."

"I'm a man of many talents," he murmurs, continuing his ministrations.

"So, I've noticed."

Once my hair is thoroughly lathered, he guides me under the spray to rinse. I turn to face him as the suds wash away, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Let me wash yours," I say, reaching for the shampoo.

He has to bend down slightly for me to reach his hair properly. I rub the shampoo through his hair, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. There's something profoundly vulnerable about washing someone's hair, a tenderness that feels almost more intimate than the sex we just had.

"You know," he says as I rinse his hair, "this is the first time I've had a woman in this shower who wasn't just a groupie or a one-night stand."

"Is that supposed to make me feel special?" I tease, though I'm secretly pleased.

"You are special," he says, suddenly serious. "From the moment I saw you in that crowd, I knew you were different."

I reach for the body wash, partly to hide how his words affect me. "Different good or different bad?"

"Definitely good." He takes the body wash from me. "Though you're going to be the death of my ego."

"Your ego could use the challenge," I reply, gasping as his soapy hands slide over my breasts.

"Probably true."

We take our time washing each other, exploring our slick skin, and stealing kisses under the warm spray. What starts as playful quickly turns heated again, his hands finding their way between my thighs.

"Again?" I ask, breathless as his fingers circle my still-sensitive clit.

"I told you.” He murmurs against my neck, "I'm insatiable when it comes to you."

Twenty minutes later, we finally come out from the shower, my legs shaky from another intense orgasm. Axl wraps me in a fluffy towel and presses a kiss to my forehead.

"I could get used to this," he says softly.

I don't respond, not trusting myself to say something I might regret. Instead, I focus on drying off and wringing the excess water from my curls.

"I should probably get dressed," I say, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. It's nearly midnight.

"I might have something you can wear," Axl offers, disappearing into his massive closet.

He returns with a soft black t-shirt emblazoned with his band's logo and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist.

"These will be huge on you, but it's better than putting that dress back on," he says, handing them to me.

I slip the shirt over my head, and it falls almost to my knees, and I have to roll the waistband of the sweatpants several times until they somewhat stay up. The effect is comical, and Axl bursts out laughing when he sees me.

"You look like a kid playing dress-up," he teases, pulling on a pair of jeans.

I stick my tongue out at him. "Not all of us are built like rock gods."

"Rock gods?" He raises an eyebrow as a smug smile plays on his lips. "I like the sound of that."

"Don't let it go to your head," I warn, attempting to tame my damp curls into some semblance of order.

"Too late." He pulls me against his still-bare chest to kiss me deeply.

When we break apart, I'm breathless again. "If you keep that up, we'll never leave."

"Would that be so terrible?" he asks, his hands sliding down to cup my ass through the baggy sweatpants.

"Mm, tempting," I admit, and press a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back. "But I promised I'd be back, and I don't want the guys to send out a search party."

Axl sighs dramatically and releases me. "Fine. I suppose I should return you before your other suitors break down my door."

I throw a towel at him, which he catches easily. "Don't be an ass."

"I can't help it. It's part of my charm." He pulls on a fresh T-shirt and grabs his leather jacket. "Come on, let's get you home before your fairy godmother turns me into a pumpkin."

The drive back is peaceful; the city lights blur past as we cruise through the late-night streets. Axl keeps one hand on my thigh, the other on the wheel, occasionally stealing glances at me.

"Thank you for tonight," I say, placing my hand over his. "It was exactly what I needed."

"Anytime," he replies, lifting my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles. "Seriously. Call me anytime you need rescuing from that fortress of testosterone."

I laugh, leaning my head against his shoulder. "It's not so bad. They mean well."

"They want you for themselves," he points out.

"And you don't?"

He glances at me; his expression turns serious. "Of course I do. But I also want you to be happy. Even if that means sharing."

His words warm something inside me. "That's surprisingly mature of you."

"I have my moments." He winks, turning onto a quieter street that will take us toward the safe house.

As we round a corner, Axl suddenly tenses, his hand tightening on mine.

"What's wrong?" I ask, sitting up straighter.

"That van," he mutters, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. "It's been following us for the last few blocks."

I turn to look, spotting a black van several car lengths behind us. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure." His jaw tightens. "Hold on."

He makes a sudden turn down a side street, accelerating slightly. The van follows.

"Shit," he swears, reaching for his phone. "I'm calling your detective friend."

Before he can dial, another van appears at the end of the street, blocking our path. Axl slams on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt.

"Fuck!" He throws the car into reverse, but the first van has already pulled up behind us, boxing us in.

My heart pounds against my ribs as men in tactical gear pour out of both vehicles, weapons drawn.

"Axl," I whisper, fear closing my throat.

"Stay in the car," he orders, his voice deadly serious. "Lock the doors when I get out."

"What? No!" I grab his arm. "You can't go out there!"

"I need to buy you time to call for help." He cups my face, pressing a hard, desperate kiss on my lips. "I'll be fine. These guys don't know who they're dealing with."

Before I can protest further, he's out of the car and slams the door behind him. I fumble for the lock button, pressing it just as the first man reaches him.

Axl moves with surprising speed and grace, his fist connecting with the man's jaw before he can react. Another attacker approaches, and Axl drops into a fighting stance I didn't know he possessed.

I grab my phone with shaking hands, trying to dial Leo's number. The screen blurs through my tears as I watch Axl fighting.

He takes down two more men before someone hits him from behind with what looks like a stun baton. He drops to one knee but immediately surges back up, throwing himself at his attacker.

The call connects just as the driver's side window shatters. I scream as a gloved hand reaches in, unlocking the door and yanking it open.

"Leo! We're being attacked!" I shout into the phone, scrambling away from the door. "We're on…"

A sharp sting hits me on the side of the neck, followed by spreading numbness. I look down to see a needle protruding from my skin…

Chapter 21 - Evan

"Ineed to stop working so late."

I rub my eyes and stare at the blurry spreadsheets on my computer screen. The numbers have started dancing, which means I've been at this for too long. My office feels like a prison tonight with no way to escape.

My phone buzzes against the desk, and Leo's name flashes across the screen.

Dahlia may have found the cure. Mara's blood is clear, and the other infected shifter's too. But we are still monitoring their vitals.

My heart jumps into my throat as I read the message for the third time to make sure I haven't hallucinated from exhaustion.

"Holy shit," I whisper to the empty room. "She actually did it."

I type back quickly: I'm on my way.

I am pushing away from my desk and grab my jacket from the back of my chair. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, I feel something close to hope. If Dahlia's cure is successful, we can halt Hammond's containment plan. We can save thousands of lives. We can make things right.

I'm halfway to the door when it swings open without warning.

"Going somewhere, Blackthorn?"

The voice freezes me in place. General Hammond stands in my doorway, flanked by two men in dark suits. His military uniform is impeccable as always, and his medals gleam under the office lights.

"Hammond," I manage. "This is unexpected."

He steps into my office without invitation, a predatory smile on his face. "Long time no see, old friend. It's almost like you've been avoiding me."

I force myself to stand taller and square my shoulders. "I've been busy."

"So, I've heard." He gestures for his men to wait outside, then closes the door. "You're running a pharmaceutical empire, playing hero to the dogs." He spits the last word.

"If you're referring to shifters, I'd appreciate if you didn't use slurs in my office."

Hammond laughs and it sounds like gravel under boots. "My, my. Look how far you've fallen. You're defending them now?"

"What do you want?" I move back behind my desk.

"What I've always wanted." He walks to my window and looks out at the city below. "What we both wanted once."

"I never wanted what you're doing."

He turns, eyes cold. "No? You didn't want power? Recognition? To rise above your... limitations?" His gaze flicks down my body, a reminder of what he knows about me.

"You lied to me," I say, curling my fingers into fists. "You said we were creating something to help shifters enhance and control their abilities."

"And we did! Just not in the way you imagined." He shrugs, unapologetic. "Control comes in many forms, Evan. Sometimes it's giving someone the reins. Sometimes it's taking them away entirely."

"You wanted to create a weapon."

"No. I wanted to create a tool." Hammond sits on the edge of my desk. "One that would have put the government in the palm of our hands. We could have ruled the world together, you and I."

"By killing innocent people?"

"By controlling a threat." His voice hardens. "But your precious morality had to stand in the way. You pulled out just when we were making progress."

"You blame me? For not wanting to be part of genocide?"

"I blame you for the virus being imperfect." He leans forward and jabs a finger at me. "If you hadn't pulled your funding, your scientists, your resources, we would have perfected it and made it controllable."

"You're insane."

"Whatever you say." Hammond stands again, pacing the length of my office. "Do you know what happens when shifters lose control? When they transform in public? People die, Evan. Human people."

"So, your solution is to kill all shifters or round them up like animals?"

"My solution is to control the threat. By any means necessary." He stops and fixes on me with a hard stare. "But you were always too soft. Too... conflicted."

"Because I have a conscience?"

Hammond laughs again. "Because you're a coward. You couldn't commit. Not to the research, not to the goal, not even to your own nature."

"My nature is none of your business."

"Oh, but it is." He steps closer, voice dropping. "Your insecurity is what made you perfect for this project. You are a Half-human, half-shifter, who belongs nowhere. So, you're always trying to prove yourself. That hunger is what I banked on when I brought you in."

My jaw clenches so tight I'm surprised my teeth don't crack. "You don't know me."

"I know you better than you think." His smile is vicious. "I know you wanted that enhancer we were developing. Not just for profit, but for yourself. So, you can finally feel whole."

I'd never admitted it, not even to myself, but part of me had hoped the research might help me unlock more of my shifter side

"It doesn't matter now," I say. "We've found a cure."

Hammond's eyebrows rise slightly, and it's the first genuine surprise I've seen from him.

"A cure? For my virus?"

"It's not yours anymore." I feel a surge of satisfaction at his reaction. "We're holding a press conference tomorrow. And I will announce your role in creating the virus."

For a moment, Hammond looks genuinely concerned. Then his face smoothly breaks into a smile before he starts laughing hysterically.

"You think you've won, don't you?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "But you'll always be five steps behind, Blackthorn. It's almost endearing."

"What are you talking about?"

"You think I came here without a plan? Without insurance?" He straightens his uniform jacket. "I may have lost once boy, but I never lose twice."

Something cold slithers down my spine. "What have you done?"

Hammond pulls out his phone, taps the screen a few times, then turns it toward me. The video shows a dark room with a single chair in the center. And tied to that chair, head slumped forward, is Dahlia.

My blood turns to ice. "If you've hurt her…"

"She's merely sedated." Hammond pulls the phone back and slips it into his pocket. "For now."

"Let her go." My voice drops to a dangerous growl. "She has nothing to do with this."

"On the contrary. Dr. Baldwin has everything to do with this." Hammond's smile widens. "She's an Omega, and she's also researching the cure. She's the most valuable asset on the planet right now."

How does he know she's an Omega?

"What do you want?" I ask, forcing my voice to remain steady.

"Simple. You will do me one favor."

"And if I refuse?"

Hammond sighs, like I'm a child asking stupid questions. "Then you'll never see her again. And neither will your little pack of Alpha dogs."

The thought of Dahlia in Hammond's hands makes my vision blur with rage. I take a step forward before I can stop myself.

"I wouldn't." Hammond gestures toward the door, where his men wait. "I have snipers positioned outside this building. One word from me, and you'll never make it to the elevator."

"You won't get away with this."

"I already have." He moves toward the door. "You have until midnight tomorrow to decide. I'll text you the location."

"How do I know she's still alive?"

Hammond pauses with his hand on the doorknob. "You don't. That's what faith is for, isn't it?"

"I want proof. Make a video call or something."

He considers this for a moment. "Fine. Once you have decided to work with me, I'll arrange a brief call. Just to ease your mind."

"What exactly do you want?"

"I have to know you will do it first, Evan. I can't give out my trump card just yet." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "It's your choice. You can either get her back in one piece or…"

"You're a fucking psychopath."

"Sticks and stones." Hammond opens the door. "Remember, midnight tomorrow. And if you alert the authorities, she dies. Immediately and painfully. Or after I have my men fill her with their semen. That would be a sight."

"You fucking bastard. Don’t you dare touch her!"

He waves me away like I am a fly as he steps out. His men fall into formation behind him. Just before the door closes, he looks back at me.

"Oh, and Evan? Don't try to be clever. You were never very good at it."

He gives me that cold, satisfied smile.

"And remember," he says, "if you tell anyone... by the time you finish the sentence, Dahlia will already be dead."

Chapter 22 - Dahlia

Cold. That's the first thing I notice as my consciousness creeps back. My head is pounding like someone's taken a jackhammer to my skull. The light above me burns too bright, making me squint as I try to figure out where I am.

I'm in a laboratory. It's not mine. The equipment is military-grade, sleek, and expensive. The walls are bare concrete, and there are no windows.

I try to move, and panic spikes through me when I realize I can't. The metal restraints bind my wrists and ankles to a chair bolted to the floor. I pull against them, and I feel the bite of cold steel against my skin.

"Fuck," I mutter, twisting my hands to test the strength of the cuffs. They don't budge.

My head throbs, and my mouth tastes like cotton. Whatever they drugged me with has left me disoriented and nauseous. I try to piece together what happened. The concert with Axl. His penthouse. The drive back. The vans. The men.

"Axl," I whisper, my heart clenching. Is he alive? Did they hurt him?

The sound of a door opening makes me snap my head up. Heavy footsteps approach, and I see General Hammond. I've only seen him on TV before, but his face is unmistakable. He's tall, with close-cropped silver hair and cold eyes that remind me of a shark.

"Dr. Baldwin," he says. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

I jerk against my restraints again, harder this time.

"I wouldn't waste your energy," Hammond says, circling my chair slowly. "Those restraints are designed to hold shifters three times your size. You'll only hurt yourself."

"Let me go," I demand, hating how my voice shakes.

He ignores me and continues his predatory circle.

"An Omega," he muses, like he's talking to himself.

"All this time searching, experimenting, trying to create the perfect biological weapon, and here you were, existing in the wild." He stops in front of me, bending slightly to meet my eyes.

"If I'd known you existed, I might have abandoned my virus project altogether."

"Sorry to disappoint you," I spit. "But I'm not interested in being your lab rat."

"Your interest isn't required, Dr. Baldwin." He reaches out and I flinch as his fingers brush a curl from my face. "You're quite beautiful, aren't you? Even in this... disheveled state."

"Don't touch me." I jerk my head away from his touch.

"And spirited too." He straightens, resuming his circle. "I appreciate that. The strong ones always produce better results."

"I won't be here long enough for you to find out," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "They'll find me."

"They?" Hammond raises an eyebrow. "You mean your little collection of Alpha males? How many is it now? Four?" He chuckles. "That's quite greedy of you, Doctor."

My blood runs cold.

"You seem surprised that I know about your... arrangement." He smirks. "I make it my business to know everything, especially about assets as valuable as you."

"I'm not an asset," I growl. "I'm a person."

"You're much more than a person." Hammond stops behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. I stiffen at his touch. "You're a miracle. You're the key to everything I've been working toward."

"And what exactly is that?" I ask, trying to keep him talking while I subtly test my restraints again.

He moves back into my field of vision. "Progress, Dr. Baldwin. Evolution. The next stage of human and shifter development." His eyes gleam with fanatical light. "Your Omega biology is the missing piece. With you, I can create a breeding program for super-soldiers. Imagine Alphas with enhanced abilities, paired with Omegas who can stabilize their transformations. And more Omegas, of course. We'll need many more like you."

Bile rises in my throat. "You're insane if you think I'll help you with that."

"Your cooperation isn't necessary." He shrugs. "Your body will do what it's designed to do, regardless of your opinion on the matter."

"Evan will find me," I say, clinging to the one hope I have. "He won't let you get away with this."

Hammond's face splits into a wide grin. "Evan? Oh, my dear, you don't know, do you?" He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear.

"Who do you think delivered you to me?"

"You're lying," I shake my head. "Evan wouldn't…"

"Wouldn't he?" Hammond straightens. "There's so much you don't know about your precious billionaire."

"What are you talking about?"

"Evan Blackthorn helped me create the first test that turned into the Crimson Plague," Hammond says, watching my face carefully.

"Did he tell you that part? Or did he conveniently leave it out when he was fucking you?"

I keep my expression neutral, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing Evan had already confessed this to me. "You're trying to turn me against him. It won't work."

"I don't need to turn you against him," Hammond says. "I just need you to understand your situation. Evan has always been weak, and conflicted. He couldn't commit to our original vision, but he'll come around. Especially now that I have you."

"He'll kill you," I say with conviction. "They all will."

Hammond laughs again. "They can try. But first, they'd have to find you. And this facility doesn't exist on any map."

He walks to a nearby table and picks up a syringe filled with amber liquid.

"What is that?" I ask, unable to keep the fear from my voice.

"Just a little something to help trigger your heat cycle," he says casually. "We need to run some tests, and you'll be more... cooperative when your biology takes over."

"No!" I struggle violently against my restraints. "Don't you dare!"

"I've never actually witnessed an Omega in heat with an Alpha," Hammond continues as if I hadn't spoken. "I'm told it's quite a spectacle. Primal. Intense." He taps the syringe, checking for air bubbles. "I've selected a few promising candidates from my enhanced Alpha program. We'll see which one your body responds to most strongly."

"You sick fuck," I snarl, twisting so hard the chair rocks slightly. "I'll kill you myself if you touch me."

"I won't be touching you, Dr. Baldwin," he corrects. "I'll merely be observing. For science, of course."

"Science?" I laugh bitterly. "This isn't science. This is torture. This is rape."

"Such dramatic language. You Omegas are designed for this. Your body will crave it once the heat takes hold."

"My body isn't separate from my mind," I argue. "Forcing me into heat and throwing me to your lab-grown Alphas is rape, no matter how you justify it."

"Your moral objections are noted," Hammond says dryly. "And ignored."

He approaches with the syringe, and I thrash wildly, tipping the chair onto two legs before it slams back down.

"You'll hurt yourself if you keep that up," he warns.

"Better than letting you hurt me," I snap.

"I have no desire to hurt you, Dr. Baldwin. You're far too valuable." He sighs. "But you are making this more difficult than it needs to be."

He presses a button on a device in his pocket, and a moment later, two men in enter the room.

"Hold her still," Hammond orders.

One grabs my shoulders from behind while the other holds my arm extended, exposing the crook of my elbow.

"No!" I scream, struggling against their grip. "Stop!"

Hammond approaches with the syringe. "This will all be easier if you accept your role in what's coming, Dr. Baldwin. Fighting only prolongs the inevitable."

"Fuck you," I spit, tears of rage and fear blurring my vision. "I'll never accept this."

"You will," he says with absolute certainty. "Your Omega nature will give you no choice."

The needle pierces my skin, and I feel the burn of the liquid entering my veins. Almost immediately, warmth begins to spread up my arm.

"What have you done to me?" I gasp as the heat intensifies, spreading through my chest and down my spine.

"Just accelerated what was already in your nature," Hammond says, stepping back to observe. "The heat would have come naturally in time. I simply... expedited the process."

The warmth is rapidly becoming uncomfortable, my skin flushing and sweat breaks out across my forehead. My breathing quickens as the first pulse of arousal hits me, stronger than anything I've experienced before.

"No," I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut against the sensation. "Please, no."

"Fascinating," Hammond murmurs. "The reaction is even faster than I anticipated." He turns to his men. "Prepare the observation room. And bring in Subject Alpha-7 first. He should show the most promising response to her pheromone."

"You can't do this," I plead, my voice breaking as another wave of heat washes over me. My thighs clench together involuntarily, seeking friction that isn't there. "Please."

Hammond looks at me, and smiles.

"Be rest assured, Dr. Baldwin, we'll take excellent care of you and any offspring that results from these pairings." He reaches for another syringe on the table. "But first, I think it's best if you sleep through the worst of this transition. The initial phase can be... distressing."

"Don't," I sob, feeling my control slipping as the drug in my system works its way deeper. "Please don't do this."

"Shh," Hammond says, approaching with the second syringe. "Sleep now. When you wake, your body will know exactly what it needs."

The needle slides into my arm again, and a different sensation spreads. It's cool and numbing, pulling me down into darkness.

"Sleep," Hammond's voice seems to come from far away. "I'll return when you're ready. We wouldn't want you to injure yourself fighting what you can't control."

The darkness rises to claim me, and my last thought before consciousness slips away is of the four men who've become so important to me. Evan. Leo. Onyx. Axl. I hope they're coming for me. I hope they hurry.

I hope I'm still myself when they find me.

Chapter 23 - Leo

"Dahlia?" A scream pierces through the speaker, followed by the sound of shattering glass.

"Leo! We're being attacked!" Her voice is high with terror. "We're on..."

The call cuts off abruptly.

"Dahlia? DAHLIA!" I shout into the phone..."Fuck! Fuck!!"

Onyx is already on his feet beside me; his eyes locked on mine.

"What happened?" he demands.

"Dahlia's in trouble... it seems someone's attacking them. The call cut off before she could tell me where they are."

Onyx grabs the edge of the desk. ""Pull up Blackthorn's tracker. Now."

I spin back to the computer, my hands flying over the keyboard as Onyx leans over my shoulder, his breath rough and heavy.

"Come on, come on," I mutter, as the tracking program loads, and searches for Dahlia's signal, but the loading circle spin endlessly on screen.

"What's taking so long?" Onyx growls behind me.

"The signal's gone," I say, slamming my fist against the desk. "Her phone’s either smashed or jammed."

"Try Valentine," Onyx snaps. "They were together."

I nod and input Axl's information. The system processes for a moment before a small dot appears on the map.

"Got him," I say, already memorizing the location. "He's downtown, about fifteen minutes from here."

"Let's go." Onyx is already moving toward the door.

I grab my jacket and keys, following him to the garage. We take my SUV, tires squealing as I peel out of the driveway. The clock on the dashboard reads 1:17 AM. Dahlia called less than ten minutes ago. They can't have gotten far.

"Faster," Onyx demands,

I push the speedometer higher, weaving through the empty streets. If they hurt, her...

"There," Onyx points as we approach the location on the tracker.

I slam on the brakes. The street is deserted, storefronts dark and shuttered. No sign of Dahlia or Axl.

"The signal's coming from that alley," I say, pulling my gun from its holster.

We approach cautiously, using the shadows for cover. The alley is narrow, filled with dumpsters and the stench of garbage. And then we see a crumpled form lying half-hidden behind a trash can.

"Valentine," Onyx rushes forward, turning the body over.

Axl's face is a mess of blood and bruises; his signature eyeliner smeared across his swollen cheeks. His leather jacket is torn, and there's a gash along his hairline that's still bleeding.

"Is he alive?" I ask, scanning the alley for any sign of Dahlia.

Onyx presses two fingers to Axl's neck. "Yeah. Barely. We need to get him back to the house."

I holster my gun and help Onyx lift Axl's limp body. He's lighter than I expected. We carry him to the car, laying him across the back seat.

"There's no sign of Dahlia," I say, climbing behind the wheel. "They must have taken her somewhere else."

"If they've hurt her..." Onyx doesn't finish the thought. He doesn't need to.

The drive back is tense and silent. I keep checking the rearview mirror, watching Axl's chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. He looks small somehow, vulnerable without his rock star swagger.

Back at the safe house, we carry Axl to the medical wing and lay him on a bed next to Mara's. I grab the first aid kit while Onyx wets a cloth to clean the blood from Axl's face.

"Should we wake him?" Onyx asks, his voice is uncharacteristically uncertain.

Before I can answer, Axl's eyes fly open. He jerks upright, wild-eyed and disoriented.

"Dahlia!" he shouts, trying to get off the bed. "Where's Dahlia?"

"That's what we want to know," Onyx grabs Axl's shoulders, pushing him back down. "What the fucking hell happened?"

Axl struggles against Onyx's grip for a moment before collapsing back, his face contorting in pain. "We were ambushed. Two vans boxed us in on the way back from my place."

"Who were they?" I ask, pressing a gauze pad to the cut on his forehead.

"Military types, I think. They were wearing black tactical gear, with no insignia." Axl winces as I apply antiseptic. "There were too many of them."

"And Dahlia?" Onyx demands, his voice dropping dangerously low.

Axl's eyes fill with self-loathing. "I tried to fight them off. I told her to lock the doors and call for help." He swallows hard. "But they broke the window. The last thing I saw was them dragging her out of the car. I couldn't... there were too many..."

Onyx's fist connects with Axl's jaw before either of us can react. The crack echoes through the room.

"You were supposed to protect her!" Onyx roars, grabbing Axl by the shirt. "You promised!"

I jump between them, shoving Onyx back. "That's enough! This isn't helping Dahlia!"

"He let them take her!" Onyx snarls, trying to get past me.

"I tried!" Axl shouts back, as blood trickles from his split lip. "You think I wanted this? They hit me with some kind of stun baton! I couldn't even stand!"

"Stop it, both of you!" I push harder against Onyx's chest. "Our priority is finding Dahlia. Everything else can wait."

Onyx backs off, breathing hard through his nose. His eyes still promise violence, but he turns away from Axl.

"How do we find her?" he asks, pacing the small room like a caged animal. "The trail's already cold."

"Not necessarily," Axl wipes blood from his mouth. "She's wearing my necklace, and it has a tracking device. It's an old habit from my wild days. I had too many stalkers."

"Can you access it?"

"My phone's gone, but I can log in from any computer." Axl tries to stand, grimacing with the effort. "The battery should last at least 24 hours."

"I'll get a laptop," I say, already moving toward the door.

When I return with the laptop, Axl's sitting up, holding an ice pack to his jaw. I hand it to him, and he starts typing rapidly, pulling up a tracking program.

"Come on, come on," he mutters, waiting for the system to connect. A small dot appears on the screen, blinking steadily. "Got her!"

"That's the old military testing ground," I say, recognizing the location. "It was decommissioned years ago."

"Or so they wanted everyone to think," a new voice says from the doorway.

We all turn to see Evan standing there, his usually perfect appearance is disheveled. His tie hangs loose around his neck, and his hair sticks up like he's been running his hands through it repeatedly.

"What do you know about this?" Onyx demands, stepping toward him.

Evan's face is grim. "Hammond has her. He came to my office earlier tonight."

"Hammond?" I repeat, the name hitting me like a physical blow. "The guy from the press conference? The one pushing for containment?"

"The same," Evan confirms, stepping into the room.

"And you're just telling us this now?" Onyx's voice is deadly quiet.

Evan meets his gaze steadily. "I came as soon as I could."

"What does he want with Dahlia?" Axl asks.

"She's an Omega," Evan says simply. "And she found the cure. That makes her the most valuable person on the planet to him."

The implications sink in, and I feel sick. "We need to get her out. Now."

"We can't," Evan says. "If I move against Hammond, I lose everything. My company, my resources, everything I've built."

The room goes silent. I stare at Evan, not quite believing what I'm hearing.

"You're not serious," I finally say.

"Hammond has connections everywhere with the government, military, and even police. If I fight him directly, I'll be ruined."

"So what?" Onyx steps closer to Evan, towering over him. "You're just going to abandon her? After everything?"

"I'm being realistic," Evan snaps. "Hammond's offering me a deal. If I cooperate with him, Dahlia stays safe."

"And if you don't?" I ask.

Evan's jaw tightens. "Then he'll use her for his breeding program, and I'll still lose everything."

"Breeding program?" Axl repeats, "What does that even mean?"

"He wants to create more Omegas," Evan explains. "And enhanced Alphas. He wants an army he can control."

"With Dahlia as what? His brood mare?" Onyx's voice shakes with rage.

"I don't like it any more than you do," Evan says. "But my hands are tied."

"You disgusting dog." I lunge at him and throw my fist against his jaw before I even realize I'm moving. He staggers back, caught off guard.

"Your hands are tied?" I snarl, grabbing him by the shirt. "Dahlia trusted you! We all did!"

Evan doesn't fight back. He looks at me. His gaze is flat and unreadable, like glass that reflects everything and reveals nothing. "I'm trying to protect what I can."

"We're going after her," Onyx declares. "With or without your help."

"How?" Evan asks. "That facility is a fortress. There would be armed guards, security systems, and the works."

"The tracking device," Axl says, pointing to the laptop. "It's still on. They haven't found it yet. It could lead us right to her."

"And then what?" Evan challenges. "The three of you will go against Hammond's entire security force? You'll never make it past the front gate."

"We have to try," I insist. "We can't just leave her there."

"I'm sorry," Evan says, and for a moment, he almost sounds sincere. "But I can't let you do that."

I feel a sharp sting in my neck. My hand flies up, fingers finding a small dart embedded in my skin. My vision blurs immediately.

"What the..." I turn to see Onyx clutching at his own neck, a matching dart protruding from his throat.

Axl lunges from the bed but collapses almost immediately, a third dart in his shoulder.

"You bastard," I slur, my knees buckling beneath me. I try to reach for my gun, but my arms won't cooperate.

The last thing I see before darkness claims me is Evan standing over us, his face a mask of regret.

"I really am sorry," he says. "But this is the only way."

Chapter 24 - Evan

Iwatch Dahlia through the observation window, and my stomach twists into knots. She lies motionless on a metal examination table; her wild curls spread across the stark white pillow. There is medical equipment around her to monitor her vitals. The only sign she's alive is her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths,

What have I done?

The door behind me slides open with a soft hiss. I don't need to turn around to know who it is. Hammond's cologne announces him before his footsteps do.

"She's quite the specimen, isn't she?" Hammond stops beside me, and his reflection appears on the glass. "You chose right, Blackthorn."

I keep my face carefully blank. "She's still unconscious."

"Her body is fighting the heat." Hammond taps the glass with his knuckle. "That's why she's not waking up. The stronger the mind of the Omega, the harder they resist the first artificial cycle. But they all break eventually."

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth might crack. "When will she wake up?"

"Eager, are we?" Hammond's lips curl into a smirk. "Don't worry. I prefer it if you sire the first batch of super soldiers anyway. You have the right... genetic material."

My skin crawls at his words, but I force myself to nod. "I'm honored."

"You should be." He turns to face me fully. "I'm curious though… how is she? In bed, I mean."

I stare at him, momentarily stunned by his audacity.

"Come now, Evan. We're both men of the world." Hammond's eyes gleam with something that makes my blood run cold. "Is she as responsive as they say Omegas are? Does she get wet just from your scent? Does she beg for your knot?"

Every muscle in my body tenses, fighting the urge to slam his head through the glass. Instead, I give him a tight smile.

"She's... exceptional."

"I bet she is." Hammond looks back at Dahlia, his gaze crawling over her body. "I'd love to fuck her myself and test how sweet an Omega really is. But I can wait and watch instead."

"Watch?" I repeat, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

"For research purposes, of course." Hammond claps a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry. You won't have to share her. You can have her all to yourself. But I must be present to observe and document the mating process."

I want to rip his hand off my shoulder and shove it down his throat, but I manage a stiff nod. "Whatever you think is best."

"I knew you'd understand." Hammond squeezes my shoulder before letting go. "We're going to become the most powerful men in the world, Evan. Just imagine having an army of enhanced Alphas at our command, all born from Omegas we control. The government will be at our feet."

"And the others?" I ask, nodding toward the adjacent room visible through another observation window.

Three men sit slumped in metal chairs, their wrists and ankles secured with heavy restraints. Onyx, Leo, and Axl are all unconscious from the tranquilizer darts.

"They'll serve their purpose," Hammond says dismissively. "We'll run tests using them first. Alphas have better endurance than normal humans. Their DNA will help us perfect the process before we move to full-scale production."

As if on cue, Leo stirs in his chair. His head lolls forward, then snaps up, eyes blinking rapidly as his consciousness returns. He looks around the room trying to understand where he is, and once he does, his face hardens. He jerks against his restraints.

"Looks like Detective Byers is awake," Hammond observes. "He seems upset."

Even through the soundproof glass, I can see Leo's mouth form the words: "I'll kill you, Evan."

"He doesn't seem to appreciate what we're doing here," I remark dryly.

"They never do. Not at first." Hammond walks to a control panel and presses a button. Leo's voice suddenly fills the room.

"…fucking traitor! When I get out of here, I'm going to rip your spine out through your throat!"

Hammond chuckles. "Such colorful words."

"Turn it off," I say.

Hammond raises an eyebrow but complies, cutting the audio feed. "Are you getting soft on me, Blackthorn?"

"Let's focus on what matters." I turn away from the window. "So, what's next? You mentioned tests."

"Ah, yes." Hammond's eyes light up with disturbing enthusiasm. "First, we'll extract genetic material from all three Alphas. Sperm samples, tissue, bone marrow, everything we need to isolate what makes them special."

"And Dahlia?"

"Once her heat fully manifests, we'll introduce you. The mating will be recorded from every angle. After conception is confirmed, we'll monitor fetal development closely."

"And if she resists?" I ask, watching Dahlia's face for any sign of waking.

"The beauty of heat is that resistance becomes... irrelevant… Her body will want what it wants. And what it wants is an Alpha's seed."

"I see." I clasp my hands behind my back to hide their trembling. "And after she gives birth?"

"We repeat the process, of course. With different Alphas. We need to determine optimal genetic combinations."

"How many children do you expect her to bear?"

Hammond shrugs. "As many as possible before her fertility declines. But by then, we'll have created more Omegas from her offspring."

"You want to breed your own Omegas?"

"Precisely." Hammond beams like I've just complimented him. "I knew you'd understand the vision eventually."

Through the other window, I see Onyx beginning to stir. His massive frame tenses and his eyes open to narrow slits.

"Looks like we'll have a full house soon," I observe.

"Yes, well, the tranquilizer dosage was calculated for average-sized men. Our wolf friend there is far from average." Hammond steps closer to the glass. "These men are magnificent specimens. Pure Alpha. His offspring with the Omega would be particularly powerful."

"More powerful than mine?" I ask, injecting just the right amount of jealousy into my voice.

Hammond glances at me. "Are you worried about competition, Blackthorn?"

"I'm curious about your scientific assessment."

"Well, it's hard to say without testing. That's why we need multiple samples." He turns back to watch as Onyx grows more alert, pulling against his restraints with increasing strength. "His raw power is impressive, but your hybrid genetics offer unique advantages. Half-shifter, half-human is the perfect bridge between worlds."

In the holding room, Leo and Onyx exchange looks.

"They seem to be coordinating," I note.

"Impossible. Those restraints are military grade, designed specifically for enhanced subjects." Hammond dismisses my concern with a wave. "They're not going anywhere."

"If you say so." I check my watch. "How much longer before Dahlia wakes up?"

"Are you impatient to start breeding?" Hammond smirks. "The drug should wear off within the hour or two. The heat symptoms will be intense by then."

I move back to Dahlia's window, pressing my palm against the glass. "And you're sure she won't be harmed in the process?"

"We need her healthy to bear children," Hammond says, as if that answers my question. "She'll be uncomfortable, certainly. The synthetic heat can be overwhelming for first-timers. But it won't kill her."

"How considerate of you."

"I'm a very practical man, Evan. Not a monster." Hammond joins me at the window. "She's beautiful, isn't she? Even unconscious, she radiates fertility. Can you smell her yet?"

I can. Dahlia's scent has begun to change, and it's growing sweeter and more potent by the minute.

"Yes," I admit.

"Good. That means the process is working." Hammond checks a monitor displaying Dahlia's vitals. "Her heart rate is increasing. Body temperature is rising. We have classic pre-heat symptoms."

"What about pain management?" I ask, noticing the furrow between Dahlia's brows, even unconscious. "She looks uncomfortable."

"Pain is part of the process… Besides, too many drugs might interfere with conception."

A commotion from the other room draws our attention. Leo is thrashing violently in his chair, the metal creaking under the strain.

"He's going to hurt himself," I observe.

"Let him try," Hammond says, sounding unconcerned. "Those restraints are reinforced steel. Even a bear shifter can't break them."

As if to prove him wrong, one of Leo's restraints gives an ominous groan.

"You might want to reconsider that assessment," I say.

Hammond frowns, moving closer to the observation window. "Impossible."

In the holding room, Onyx has stopped struggling. Instead, he sits perfectly still and closes his eyes.

"What is he doing?" Hammond asks.

"Shifters can sometimes access enhanced strength by focusing their energy."

"Fascinating." Hammond sounds genuinely intrigued. "I'll have to document this for the research files."

"You do that." I glance at Dahlia again. Her fingers have started to twitch. She's waking up.

"Ah, perfect timing." Hammond notices, too. "She'll be fully conscious soon, and the heat will take hold. We should prepare for the mating process."

"What does that entail exactly?" I ask, playing for time.

"We'll move her to a specialized room, which will be more comfortable than this medical setup but still equipped with monitoring devices." Hammond points to a door at the far end of the corridor. "Everything is ready. We just need our participants."

"And the others? What happens to them while Dahlia and I are... occupied?"

"They will stay secured until it's their turn for testing." Hammond's eyes gleam with anticipation. "Though perhaps we'll let them watch the mating. Their reactions could provide valuable data on Alpha territorial responses."

"You've thought of everything,"

"I've been planning for years Evan and I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity. And now, thanks to you, I have everything I need."

"Happy to help."

"I knew you'd come around eventually." Hammond claps me on the shoulder again. "You were always smart. You understand the bigger picture."

"The bigger picture," I repeat. "Yes, that's exactly what matters here."

"This is just the beginning." Hammond's voice takes on an almost religious fervor. "Imagine a world where we control the most powerful beings on the planet, where governments bow to our superior force. Where we decide the course of human evolution."

"Sounds like a nice fantasy."

Hammond frowns. "Fantasy? This is reality, Evan. Our reality. The future we're creating together."

I laugh a hollow and sharp sound that echoes in the sterile room. "Wow, your still fucking delusional."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Hammond's eyes narrow with sudden suspicion.

I turn to face him fully, dropping the mask I've worn since entering this facility. "I mean, Hammond, that you're more delusional than I thought if you believe I'd ever help you turn Dahlia into a breeding machine."

"What are you saying?" Hammond takes a step back, his hand moving towards the inside of his jacket.

"I'm saying you should probably check those 'indestructible' restraints again."

Chapter 25 - Onyx

The sterile white light burns my eyes immediately I open them, making me squint against the pain. I jerk against the restraints to test their strength. They don't budge.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Axl's voice cuts through the fog in my brain. "You missed all the fun."

I blink hard, forcing my vision to clear. We're in a stark white room with a one-way mirror. Axl and Leo are secured to metal chairs identical to mine, their limbs bound with the same heavy-duty restraints.

"Where the fuck are we?" I growl, pulling against the metal cuffs again. The chair creaks, but it holds firm.

"Hammond's secret facility, I guess," Leo answers, "The one Evan so helpfully delivered us to."

"That backstabbing piece of shit," Axl spits, His face is no longer bruised from the earlier attack, but there is still dried blood crusting at his hairline. "I'm going to rip his throat out when I get my hands on him."

Leo shifts in his chair, leaning forward as much as his restraints allow. "Listen," he says, voice dropping. "Evan has a plan."

Axl barks out a harsh laugh. "A plan? Are you fucking kidding me? The asshole tranquilized us and handed us over to a psychopath."

"It's not what you think," Leo insists. "He sent a message to my phone before he darted us."

"Message saying what exactly?" I ask, not ready to believe Evan hasn't betrayed us completely.

"That he's playing along to get inside," Leo explains. "He needed Hammond to trust him."

Axl rolls his eyes. "Great plan. And now we're chained up like animals waiting for slaughter. Brilliant fucking strategy."

"So, what's the grand plan?" Axl asks, still skeptical. "We just sit here with our thumbs up our asses while Evan does what exactly?"

"He said he'd give us a signal," Leo says. "Some kind of beeping."

I strain against my restraints again, feeling the metal dig into my skin. "How long have we been out?"

Leo glances at the observation window. "If I'm right, the dart kept us down for about fifty-five minutes."

"How the hell do you know that?" Axl asks.

"The tranquilizer they used would keep an average human down for about three hours," Leo explains. "I've been darted with something similar before during a raid. It only took me about an hour to shake it off."

Axl raises his eyebrows, looking almost impressed. "Huh. I can't believe I am learning something new even today."

"This isn't the time for a fucking chemistry lesson," I snap. "We need to get out of here and find Dahlia."

"Agreed," Leo says. "If we don't get Evan's signal in the next ten minutes, we assume he betrayed us, and we do this the hard way."

"And what's the hard way?" Axl asks.

Leo's smile is all teeth. "We break these chains and tear this place apart until we find her."

"Can we even break these?" Axl tugs at his restraints. "They feel pretty solid."

"They're strong and designed for shifters," I say. "Not for us."

"If we shift partially, we should have enough strength," Leo adds. "The trick is timing it right."

I close my eyes, reaching for my wolf. He's there, pacing just beneath my skin, and his rage makes him stronger than usual. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"If Evan has betrayed us..." Axl begins.

"Then I'll rip his throat out myself," Leo finishes.

We fall silent, waiting. The seconds tick by like hours. Sweat beads on my forehead as I fight to keep my wolf in check. He wants out. He wants blood. He wants to find our Omega.

Just as I'm about to suggest we stop waiting and break free, a high-pitched beeping fills the room. It's coming from somewhere in the ceiling, a rapid pulse that makes my ears twitch.

Leo's head snaps up. "That's it. That's the signal."

"Now!" I roar, no longer holding back my wolf.

The change ripples through me like fire. My muscles swell and shift, bones cracking as they thicken. My hands transform partially into claws, fur sprouting along my arms. Beside me, Leo and Axl undergo similar partial transformations.

I strain against the restraints with everything I have. The metal groans, then snaps, pieces flying across the room. Leo breaks free next, tearing through the cuffs like they're made of paper.

The moment we're all loose, the door slides open with a soft hiss. We exchange glances, wary of a trap.

"Is this part of the plan?" Axl asks, rubbing his wrists where the metal cut into his skin.

"Only one way to find out," Leo says, already moving toward the door.

We step into a sterile white corridor that branches in two directions. There's no sign of guards or personnel.

"Which way?" Axl asks, looking between the two identical hallways.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, sorting through the antiseptic smells of the facility. "Left," I say with certainty. "I can smell Dahlia."

"You sure?" Leo asks, already moving.

"I'd know her scent anywhere," I growl. "She's close."

We move quickly down the corridor, staying alert for any sign of resistance. The lack of guards makes me nervous. Either Evan's plan is working perfectly, or we're walking into a trap.

"Anyone else think this is too easy?" Axl mutters, echoing my thoughts.

"Definitely," Leo agrees. "Stay sharp."

We reach a junction where the corridor splits again. I pause, sniffing the air.

"She's that way," I point to the right. "And she's not alone."

"Hammond?" Leo asks.

I shake my head. "Evan. And someone else…"

"That would be Hammond," Leo confirms. "What's our play here?"

"We go in hard and fast," I say. "Grab Dahlia and get out."

"And Evan?" Axl asks.

I bare my teeth. "If he's helping us, then great. If not, he dies with Hammond."

We move silently down the corridor; our footsteps are barely audible on the polished floor. The sterile hallways all look the same with white walls, bright lights, and locked doors with small windows. This place feels more like a prison than a research facility.

"I don't like this," Leo mutters, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings. "Where is everyone?"

He's right. We've encountered no resistance since breaking free, which makes no sense for a high-security facility.

"Maybe Evan cleared the way," Axl suggests, though he doesn't sound convinced.

I'm about to respond when a door at the end of the hallway bursts open. Six men pour through, weapons raised.

"Contact!" Leo shouts, immediately dropping into a fighting stance.

The men rush toward us, and I feel my wolf surge forward. I let the partial shift take over, my nails lengthening into claws, my teeth sharpening to points. The first man reaches me, swinging a stun baton. I catch his wrist, crushing it in my grip. He screams as bones crack beneath my fingers.

Beside me, Leo has fully embraced his bear. His massive form tears through his shirt as he roars, the sound echoing through the corridor. He grabs one of the attackers and throws him against the wall with enough force to crack the plaster.

Axl moves with surprising speed for someone who isn't fully shifted. He ducks under a swing, delivering a brutal uppercut that sends his opponent sprawling.

"Behind you!" I shout as another guard rushes Axl from behind.

Axl spins, but not fast enough. The guard slams his baton into Axl's side. Electricity crackles, and Axl drops to one knee with a grunt of pain.

I leap over a fallen guard, tackling Axl's attacker before he can strike again. We crash to the floor, and I pin him with my weight, my clawed hand at his throat.

"Where is she?" I growl, pressing just hard enough to draw blood. "Where's the woman?"

"Fuck you," he spits.

I tighten my grip. "Wrong answer."

"Onyx!" Leo calls. "We need to move!"

I glance up to see more guards pouring in from both ends of the corridor. We're about to be surrounded.

"This way!" Axl shouts, kicking open a side door. He's recovered quickly from the stun baton, his eyes glowing with a golden light I haven't seen before.

We rush through the door into what looks like a laboratory. Glass cabinets line the walls, filled with vials of amber liquid. In the center of the room sits an examination table with restraints.

"They were going to keep her here," I growl, rage building in my chest.

"Save it," Leo says, barricading the door with a heavy cabinet. "We need to find another way out."

Axl is already at the far door, peering through the small window. "Clear on this side. Let's go."

We move quickly through a series of interconnected labs, each more disturbing than the last. One contains cages large enough for humans. Another has walls lined with medical equipment that looks more like torture devices.

"What the fuck were they doing here?" Axl mutters as we pass through a room filled with screens displaying genetic sequences.

"Creating monsters," Leo answers grimly.

We encounter more resistance as we push deeper into the facility. Guards appear in groups of two or three, but they're no match for three enraged Alphas. We leave a trail of unconscious bodies behind us, not killing unless necessary. These men are just following orders. Hammond is the real target.

After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, we arrive at a larger room that appears to be the central hub. Multiple corridors branch off from it, and screens on the walls display different areas of the facility.

"Look," Leo points to one of the screens showing a loading dock. "That must be the way out."

Before we can move toward it, the main doors burst open. A dozen men in black flood in. But these aren't Hammond's security; their uniforms bear a different insignia, something I don't recognize.

"Down on the ground!" one of them shouts. "Hands where we can see them!"

"Fuck that," I snarl, ready to fight.

"Stand down,"

The men part, and Evan Blackthorn walks through, immaculate in his tailored suit. Only a small cut on his cheek shows he's been in any kind of struggle.

"Took you long enough to show your face," Leo says.

Evan's expression remains neutral. "Did you really think I would betray Dahlia like that?"

"Yes," Axl answers without hesitation. "We absolutely did."

Evan scowls, genuine hurt flashing across his face before his mask slips back into place. "I needed Hammond to trust me completely. It was the only way to get inside his operation."

"So, who are these guys?" Leo asks, nodding toward the team still aiming weapons at us.

"Government Special Security Division," Evan explains. "I've been working with them for weeks to bring him down."

"And you couldn't have told us this before drugging us and handing us over to a psychopath?" Axl demands.

"Hammond has spies everywhere. I couldn't risk it." Evan turns to the team leader. "Secure the facility. I want every piece of evidence cataloged and every person in this lab rounded up for questioning."

The man nods and begins issuing orders to his team. They spread out, moving with practiced efficiency.

"Hammond escaped," Evan says, turning back to us. "He slipped away during the initial breach. We need to find him before he disappears completely."

"Where's Dahlia?" I demand, growing impatient with this conversation.

Evan's expression darkens. "She was in a medical room when I last saw her. Hammond was preparing to move her to a specialized containment area."

I don't wait to hear more. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, sorting through the scents of blood, sweat, fear, chemicals, until I catch it. Dahlia. Her scent is stronger now, tinged with something that makes my wolf howl in rage.

"I've got her," I say, already moving. "I'll follow her scent."

"Onyx, wait!" Evan calls after me. "We should go together!"

I ignore him, breaking into a run. The corridor blurs around me as I follow my nose, taking turns without hesitation. Her scent grows stronger with each step, pulling me forward like a physical force.

I burst through a set of double doors into a medical wing. The scent of antiseptic burns my nostrils, but underneath it, Dahlia's unique fragrance calls to me. And there's something else, though, the sweetness of her hormones. Fuck! They've triggered her heat.

My wolf rages against my control, desperate to find her, to protect her. I let him guide me now, racing down the hallway until I reach a heavy security door. It's locked, but that doesn't stop me. I slam my shoulder against it once, twice, and on the third try, the frame splinters and the door crashes open.

The room beyond is dimly lit, with medical equipment lining the walls. And there, in the center, is Dahlia.

Hammond is standing behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding a syringe to her neck. The needle presses against her skin, a bead of blood already forming where it's punctured the surface.

"One more step," Hammond says calmly, "and I push this plunger."

Chapter 26 - Dahlia

Iwake up to a world on fire.

My skin burns like I've been doused in gasoline and lit with a match. Every nerve ending screams for relief that won't come. I try to focus, to remember where I am, but my thoughts scatter like frightened birds.

My eyes flutter open to harsh fluorescent lights that make my head pound. I'm standing, but not by choice. Hammond's arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me upright against him. The pressure of his body against mine makes me want to vomit. Something sharp pricks my neck, and the realization sends a jolt of terror through me.

"One more step," Hammond says, his voice vibrating against my back, "and I push this plunger."

I blink through the haze of drugs and hormones to see Onyx standing in the doorway, his massive frame filling the space. His eyes burn gold with rage; his hands curled into claws. Behind him, I can make out more shapes of Leo, Axl, Evan, and some more men.

They came for me. They all came.

"Let her go, Hammond." Evan steps forward. "It's over. The facility is surrounded. Your research is being confiscated as we speak."

Hammond's grip tightens, making me gasp. "Nothing is over until I say it's over, Blackthorn."

The needle digs deeper into my skin. I feel a warm trickle of blood running down my neck.

"You see," Hammond continues, "I'm holding something far more valuable than research. I'm holding the only known Omega compatible with multiple Alphas. Do you have any idea what that's worth?"

“She’s not something you can buy or trade,” Leo snaps, his jaw tight. “She’s a person, you bastard."

"She's the future," Hammond corrects. "And if any of you take another step, I'll pump her full of enough pheromone booster to send her into a heat so intense she'll beg the nearest Alpha to mount her." He laughs, the sound cold and clinical. "And there are plenty of shifters in this facility who would be more than happy to oblige."

My stomach turns at his words. The heat already coursing through my system is bad enough. It's like a fever that's consuming me from the inside out. I can barely think straight. If he injects me with more...

"What do you want?" Evan asks.

“I want safe passage,” Hammond says smoothly. “A helicopter on the roof, no trackers, no tails. Once I’m out, I’ll give you her location.”

"You're taking her with you?" Axl steps forward, his hands clenched into fists. "That's not happening."

"Well, you can prepare for the consequences," Hammond smiles, and I can feel the curve of his lips against my hair.

"And if we refuse?" Onyx asks.

Hammond presses the syringe harder against my neck. "Then I push this needle, and Dr. Baldwin becomes a willing participant in my breeding program right here, right now. Her scent will call every Alpha within a mile radius. Do you think you can protect her from all of them? Even from yourselves?"

I see the struggle on their faces. They want to tear Hammond apart, but they can't risk my safety.

I need to do something. I can't be the damsel in distress waiting for rescue. Not when I have four men ready to risk everything for me.

"Please," I whisper, letting my body sag against Hammond. "It hurts so much. Just make it stop."

Hammond's grip loosens slightly. "What was that, my dear?"

I turn my head, looking up at him with what I hope appears to be drug-hazed submission. "The heat... It's too much. I can't fight it anymore."

Confusion flickers across his face, quickly replaced by smug satisfaction. "You see, gentlemen? Even the brilliant Dr. Baldwin knows when to surrender to her beast."

While he's distracted by his gloating, my hand slides along the medical tray beside us. My fingers close around a scalpel. I grip it tight and hide it against my palm.

"Just tell me what to do," I plead, playing into his God complex. "You're in charge. You know what's best."

Hammond's eyes gleam with triumph. "I knew you'd see reason eventually. You're too intelligent not to understand the importance of my work."

"Dahlia," Evan warns, taking another step forward. "Don't listen to him."

Hammond jerks me back, the needle pressing deeper. "Stay where you are, Blackthorn!"

"It's okay," I say to Evan, hoping he can read the intent in my eyes. "I understand now that this is bigger than me."

Hammond relaxes his grip just slightly, believing he's won. It's the only opening I need.

I drive the scalpel into his thigh with every ounce of strength I possess.

Hammond howls, his grip on me faltering. I try to twist away, but he grabs my hair, yanking me back against him. We struggle, his strength surprising for a man his age. The syringe wavers dangerously close to my neck.

"You fucking bitch!" he snarls.

"Now!" I scream at the others.

Onyx and the others surge forward. Onyx grabs Hammond by the collar and wrenches him off me, slamming him hard against the wall. The syringe clatters uselessly to the floor.

Hammond tries to fight back, but Leo and Axl are already there, pinning his arms, forcing him down. Evan kicks the syringe away, far out of reach.

I collapse to the floor, breathless and shaking but uninjured, as the burning fear inside me gives way to relief.

Onyx looks down at me, "You did well, Dahlia. We’ve got you."

His words don’t feel very reassuring because even cool tiles do nothing to cool my burning skin.

"We need to get her out of here," Evan orders someone. "Now!"

"Don't touch her," Onyx growls at someone I can't see. "Nobody fucking touches her but us."

Through the haze of need, I see Hammond being restrained by the team. Blood soaks his pant leg where I stabbed him, but he's still smiling, watching me writhe on the floor.

"It’s too late," he calls out. "She's already gone. The dose I gave her was meant for an elephant; that's why I put her to sleep earlier. You'll have to fuck her soon, or she'll die from the strain. I wish I could watch. Fuck!"

"Shut him up," Leo snarls.

Someone gags Hammond, but his words have already taken root. The pain is getting worse; my body temperature is rising to dangerous levels. I can feel sweat soaking through my clothes.

"He's right," I manage to gasp. "It's too much. I can't…I need…"

"We've got you," Axl says, his voice tight with restraint. "We'll take care of you, baby."

"Not here," Evan says firmly. "Get her to the chopper. We need to move now."

Someone carries me off the floor, and it's hard to tell who. Every touch sends shockwaves of pleasure and pain through my body. I bury my face against his chest, inhaling his scent desperately. It's Onyx.

"Please," I whimper, not even sure what I'm begging for.

"Hold on," Onyx murmurs against my hair. "Just hold on, Dahlia."

He carries me through the corridors, and I'm vaguely aware of other people moving out of our way, of orders being shouted, of doors opening and closing. None of it matters compared to the fire consuming me from within.

"Her temperature is too high," Leo says from somewhere beside us. "We need to cool her down."

"The helicopter has medical supplies," Evan replies. "We can stabilize her until we reach the safe house."

"Will she make it that long?" Axl asks.

No one answers. The silence is answer enough.

We burst through a final door onto a rooftop where a helicopter waits, with the blades already spinning. The rush of cool air against my skin provides momentary relief, but it's still not enough.

"Get her inside," Evan commands.

Onyx carries me into the helicopter, laying me on a padded bench. The others climb in after us, the door sliding shut behind them. The confined space fills with their scents, and I moan, arching off the bench involuntarily.

"Jesus," Axl mutters. "What did that bastard give her?"

"Some kind of synthetic heat amplifier," Evan says, rummaging through a medical kit. "It's forcing her body to produce pheromones at a dangerous rate."

Leo presses a cold compress against my forehead. "Her skin is on fire."

"We need to get her temperature down," Evan agrees, filling a syringe with clear liquid. "This should help with the fever, but not the rest."

I feel the prick of a needle in my arm, and it's gentler than Hammond's cruel jab. The medication spreads relief through my veins, but it does nothing for the desperate ache building between my legs.

"It's not enough," I gasp, clutching at whoever is closest. "Touch me at least…I need…"

"We know what you need," Onyx says, "But not here. Not like this."

"I can't wait," I sob, twisting against the hands trying to hold me still. "Please, it hurts."

The helicopter lifts off, the vibration of the engines only adding to my torment. Every sensation is amplified a thousand times: the brush of fabric against my skin, the press of hands trying to help me, the mingled scents of four Alphas driving me wild with need.

"How long to the safe house?" Leo asks, pressing another cold compress to my neck.

"Ten minutes," Evan replies.

"She won't last ten minutes," Axl argues. "Look at her."

I'm beyond caring about their discussion. My body moves of its own accord, seeking relief that won't come. I tear at my clothes, desperate to cool my burning skin.

"Stop," Leo catches my hands. "Dahlia, you need to stay still."

"I can't," I cry, tears streaming down my face. "I can't think. I can't breathe. Please, please help me."

"We're here," Evan says, taking my hand and pressing it to his chest. "We've got you. But you need to tell us you want this. That you're choosing this."

Even through the haze of need, I understand what he's asking. They won't touch me without consent, no matter how desperate my body is.

"Yes," I gasp. "Please, yes. I choose this. I choose all of you."

Chapter 27 - Onyx

Icarry Dahlia through the front door of the safe house, her body burning against mine like a furnace. Her scent is intoxicating, and it's taking every ounce of my control not to respond the way my wolf demands.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Evan directs, leading the way down the hall. "The master suite has everything we need."

Leo rushes ahead to prepare the room while Axl follows close behind, his eyes never leaving Dahlia's face. She struggles in my arms, her hands clutching at my shirt, tearing at the fabric in desperation.

"Hurry," she pants, her voice barely recognizable. "Please, Onyx, I can't take it anymore."

I quicken my pace, following Evan into the master suite. The room is massive with a California king bed dominating the center. Leo has already pulled back the covers and is laying down towels.

"Put her here," he instructs, stepping back to give me space.

I lay Dahlia gently on the bed, but she doesn't let go of my shirt. Her strength surprises me as she yanks me down toward her.

"Don't leave me," she begs, her eyes wild with need. "Please don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," I promise, brushing sweat-soaked curls from her forehead. "None of us are."

Evan appears with a basin of cool water and small towels. "We need to get her temperature down first."

"And get these clothes off her," Axl adds, already moving to help. "They're soaked through."

Dahlia claws at her shirt, too frantic to manage the buttons. "Off, get them off!"

"Let us help you," Leo says, his voice soothing despite the tension rolling off him in waves.

Her skin is flushed deep red, and she arches into every touch with desperate moans.

"Please," she sobs once she's naked, her body glistening with sweat. "I need you. Any of you. All of you. Just make it stop hurting."

The scent of her arousal fills the room, making my head spin. I look at the others and see the same struggle reflected in their eyes, the need to help her warring with the desire to do this right.

"We need to set some rules," Evan says, his voice strained as he presses a cool cloth to Dahlia's forehead. "And set some boundaries."

"Fuck your rules," Dahlia growls, grabbing his wrist. "I'm burning alive, and you want to discuss boundaries?"

"Yes," Leo insists, taking her other hand. "Because when this is over, we want you to know we respected you, even when your body was out of your control."

Her eyes fill with tears, a moment of clarity breaking through the haze of need. "Okay. Okay, but hurry."

"Let's go two at a time," Evan suggests, looking around at all of us. "We take turns. That way, she's not overwhelmed, and someone can always monitor her condition."

"Fine," Axl agrees, already stripping off his shirt. "But who goes first?"

None of us wants to step back, but we can't all claim her at once.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" Axl suggests with a hint of his usual humor, though his eyes remain dark with desire.

Under any other circumstances, I'd laugh at the absurdity of deciding something so primal with a children's game. But right now, it seems as good a method as any.

"Fine," Leo agrees, holding out his fist.

We form a quick circle, each extending a hand. "One, two, three!"

Axl and I throw scissors. Evan and Leo both chose paper.

"Looks like it's us," Axl says to me, already kicking off his boots.

I turn to Dahlia, who watches us with desperate eyes, her chest heaving with each breath. "Is that okay? Axl and I first?"

"Yes," she gasps, reaching for us both. "Please, just hurry."

Leo and Evan step back, though I can see how much it costs them. They position themselves at the edges of the room, giving us space while staying close enough to help if needed.

I strip quickly, not bothering with any kind of show. My cock springs free, already hard and aching. Beside me, Axl does the same, revealing the lean, tattooed body that's made him famous.

"Come here," Dahlia demands, her voice breaking on a moan.

We approach the bed from opposite sides. Axl reaches her first, capturing her mouth in a hungry kiss that makes her whimper. I watch for a moment, surprised by the lack of jealousy. Instead, seeing her pleasure only heightens my arousal.

Axl breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down her neck, across her collarbone, and finally to her breast. He takes her nipple between his lips, sucking hard enough to make her cry out.

I settle between her legs, spreading her thighs wider. She's soaking wet, her arousal glistening on her inner thighs.

"You're so beautiful," I tell her, running my fingers through her folds.

She bucks against my hand, desperate for more contact. "Please, Onyx. I need you inside me."

"Soon," I promise, circling her entrance with my fingers. "I need to make sure you're ready."

"I've been ready for a while now," she groans, grinding against my hand. "Stop teasing me!"

Axl chuckles against her breast, the vibration making her gasp. "Maybe he's self-conscious."

"Fuck you," I slide two fingers inside her. She's tight but so wet that they glide in effortlessly.

Dahlia throws her head back, a strangled cry escaping her throat. "More!"

I pump my fingers slowly, curling them until her whole body jerks.

"There!" she cries, clenching around my fingers. "Right there!"

Axl moves to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention while his hand slides down to circle her clit. The dual sensation makes her thrash on the bed; her body caught between our touches.

"I can't wait anymore," I growl, withdrawing my fingers. "I need to be inside you."

"Yes," she agrees, spreading her legs wider in invitation. "Please, Onyx."

I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock sliding through her wetness. The sensation is almost too much, and I must grit my teeth to maintain control.

"Look at me," I command.

Her eyes, glazed with desire, lock onto mine. In that moment, I push forward, sinking into her in one slow thrust until I'm buried to my balls.

"Fuck!" she screams, her back arching off the bed. "Oh God, yes!"

The tight heat of her around me is almost undoing me. I hold still, fighting for control, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

Axl shifts positions, moving up toward her head. "Open your mouth for me, baby."

Dahlia turns her head, her lips parting eagerly as Axl guides his cock toward her mouth. She takes him in greedily, her moans muffled around his length.

The sight of her taking us both sends a surge of primal satisfaction through me. I start to move, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back in. Each stroke pulls a muffled cry from her throat.

"That's it," I encourage. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

Axl threads his fingers through her curls, guiding her movements as she sucks him. "Your mouth feels so fucking good."

I feel her walls fluttering around me, a sign she's already close to the edge. The heat drug Hammond gave her has her body primed for release.

"Are you going to come for me?" I ask, increasing my pace. "Come on my cock while you suck him?"

She moans around Axl, the vibration making him hiss with pleasure. Her hands clutch at the sheets.

I slide my hand between us, finding her clit with my thumb. The moment I touch her there, she shatters, and her body convulses around me in powerful waves. The strength of her orgasm triggers my own release, and I feel the base of my cock swelling, locking us together as I empty myself inside her.

"Fuck," I groan, the sensation of knotting her for the first time overwhelming my senses. "Dahlia! I love you..."

Axl pulls out of her mouth, giving her space to breathe through her climax. He wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself rapidly as he watches us.

"I'm close," he warns.

Dahlia, still trembling from her orgasm, looks up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Cum on my breasts," she gasps. "I want to feel you."

With a guttural groan, Axl complies, his release painting white streaks across her flushed skin. The sight is erotic in a way I never expected, and my cock pulses again inside her.

We stay connected as my knot slowly recedes, our breathing gradually returning to normal. Dahlia's eyes are clearer now, the desperate edge of need temporarily sated.

"Better?" I ask, brushing a kiss across her forehead.

"For now," she nods, though I can still feel the unnatural heat of her skin. "But I need more."

"My turn," Axl says, nudging my shoulder. "Time to tag out, big guy."

I carefully withdraw from her, both of us wincing at the sensation. Our combined release trickles from her body, and the sight stirs my wolf again.

Axl doesn't waste any time; he slides between her thighs and pushes into her. Dahlia cries out, her oversensitive body both craving and resisting the new intrusion.

"Too much?" Axl pauses.

"No," she gasps, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

I move to lie beside her, oddly content to watch as Axl begins to move inside her.

Across the room, Leo stands with his back against the wall, his hand stroking his cock. His eyes never leave Dahlia's face, following every expression of pleasure that crosses her features.

Evan sits in a chair nearby, his posture rigid with restraint, though the bulge in his pants betrays his arousal.

The room fills with the scent of sex and pheromones, creating an intoxicating fog that heightens every sensation. I lean down to kiss Dahlia, swallowing her moans as Axl drives into her with increasing force.

"You're doing so well," I murmur against her lips. "You're taking everything we give you like a good little girl."

Her hand finds mine, squeezing tight as another wave of pleasure builds inside her. I trail kisses down her neck, nuzzling the sensitive spot where her pulse beats rapidly beneath her skin.

"I want to mark you," I whisper, the words coming from some primal part of me I can't control. "Make you mine."

"Yes," she pants, tilting her head to give me better access. "Please, Onyx. Mark me."

Axl's rhythm falters as he nears his climax. "I'm going to knot you," he warns, his voice strained. "Is that okay?"

"Yes!" Dahlia cries, her body tensing beneath him. "I'm so close!"

I feel her trembling on the edge of release, and I know exactly what she needs to push her over. I open my mouth against the curve of her neck and graze my teeth against her skin.

"Mine," I growl, and then I bite down, breaking the skin just as Axl slams into her one final time.

Dahlia screams, her entire body convulsing as the most powerful orgasm yet tears through her. A gush of wetness floods between her legs, soaking the towels beneath them as she squirts with the intensity of her release.

When the last tremors subside, she lies boneless between us, her eyes unfocused and her breathing shallow. For a moment, I worry we've pushed her too far, but then a small smile curves her lips.

"More," she whispers, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I need more."

Chapter 28 - Leo

Iwatch Onyx and Axl reluctantly pull away from Dahlia, their bodies slick with sweat. She lies there panting, her skin still flushed with that unnatural heat. Her eyes find mine, desperate and pleading.

"Leo," she whispers, reaching for me.

I don't need to be told twice. I move toward the bed, shedding my remaining clothes as Evan does the same. Her body is a masterpiece, even with the marks and fluids from the others covering it. Maybe especially because of that. I climb onto the bed, and Evan flips Dahlia onto her stomach with surprising gentleness despite his apparent urgency. He guides her hips up until her ass is raised in the air, her face pressed against the pillows.

"Do you want me like this?" she asks, looking back over her shoulder, her curls wild around her face.

"Perfect," Evan growls, positioning himself behind her.

I move to the head of the bed, my cock already stiff and aching. The scent of her arousal fills my nostrils, making my bear stir beneath my skin.

"Open your mouth for me, sweetheart," I say, guiding her head toward my cock.

She complies eagerly, her lips parting. The moment her mouth envelops me, I must grip the headboard to keep from buckling at the knees.

"Fuck, your mouth is hot," I groan, tangling my fingers in her hair.

Behind her, Evan grips her hips tight enough to leave marks. "Are you ready for me?" he asks, rubbing the head of his cock through her folds.

Dahlia moans around my length, the vibration sending shivers up my spine. She pushes back against Evan, wordlessly begging.

"Such a greedy little Omega," Evan says, slapping her ass lightly. "Wanting all your Alphas at once."

He enters her and Dahlia's cry is muffled by my cock, but I feel it to my core. Her eyes roll back as Evan sets a brutal pace, each thrust pushing her further onto my length.

"That's it," I encourage, holding her head steady as I begin to move. "Take us both."

Evan's hands dig into her flesh as he pulls her back onto his cock again and again.

"You were made for this," he tells her, his voice dropping to a growl. "You were made to be filled by us, to be fucked until you can't remember your name."

His dirty talk makes her moan louder, her tongue swirling around my shaft with renewed enthusiasm. I can feel the heat of her mouth increasing as her arousal builds.

"You like that?" Evan asks, slapping her ass again. "You like being our little fuck toy?"

She nods frantically around my cock, tears of pleasure streaming down her face.

"Tell her what you want, Leo," Evan demands, never slowing his pace.

"Tell our Omega what you're going to do to her."

I tighten my grip in her hair, guiding her movements as I thrust deeper into her mouth.

"I'm going to fill that pretty throat," I tell her, watching her eyes widen. "And you're going to swallow every drop, aren't you?"

She moans her agreement, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks harder. The sight of her taking both of us, so eager and willing, pushes me dangerously close to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm not going to last," I warn, my hips jerking forward involuntarily.

"Don't hold back," Evan says, his pace becoming more erratic as he nears his climax. "She needs it. All of it."

Dahlia's hands grip my thighs, her nails digging into my skin as she takes me deeper. The combination of pain and pleasure is too much.

"I'm coming," I groan, my release hitting me like a freight train.

She doesn't pull away. Instead, she swallows eagerly around me as I empty myself down her throat, her eyes locked on mine the entire time. Some of my cum escapes the corner of her mouth, trailing down her chin.

"That's it," I pant, watching as she continues to lick and suck, determined to get every last drop. "Good girl."

When a bit of cum drips onto the sheets, she uses her finger to scoop it up, bringing it to her mouth and licking it clean without breaking eye contact.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I swear, feeling my cock twitch and begin to harden again despite having just come. "You're incredible."

Evan grunts in agreement, his pace becoming punishing as he watches our exchange.

"I'm going to fill you up now," he tells Dahlia, pressing her face into the pillow as he pounds into her. "I'm going to knot this sweet pussy and mark you as mine."

Dahlia's moans grow louder, muffled by the pillow but still clearly desperate. Her hips slam back against Evan's thrusts, meeting him halfway in eagerness.

"Please," she begs, turning her face to the side. "Please, Evan, fill me up, knot me, NOW!"

"What do you need?" he demands, gripping her hair and pulling her head back. "Say it."

"Your knot!" she cries out. "I need your knot! Make me yours!"

"I love you, Dahlia... I love you so damn much." Evan roars as he drives into her one final time. I can see the moment his knot begins to swell, locking them together. He bends forward and sinks his teeth into the curve of her neck, marking her as Onyx did.

Dahlia screams, her entire body shaking as another orgasm rips through her. "Evan! Oh my, Evan!"

The scent of her release fills the room, making my newly hardened cock throb with need. Evan holds her tight against him as he empties himself inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

When his knot finally subsides, he withdraws carefully, both gasping at the sensation. Dahlia collapses onto the bed, but her eyes find mine immediately, seeing my obvious arousal.

"Come here," she whispers, reaching for me.

I move between her legs, lifting her to straddle my lap. "Think you can ride me?" I ask, supporting her weight with my hands on her waist.

She nods, positioning herself above my cock. "I want you so much."

As she sinks onto me, we both groan at the sensation. She's impossibly tight despite having just taken three men, and her body grips me like a vise.

"Move for me," I urge, guiding her hips in a slow rhythm.

She starts rising and falling on my length, but I can feel her thighs trembling with exhaustion.

"It's okay," I murmur, flipping us so she's on her back. "Let me do the work now."

Her legs wrap around my waist as I begin to thrust, her arms looping around my neck to pull me down for a kiss.

"You feel so fucking good," I tell her, driving deeper. "So wet and tight for me."

I increase my pace, feeling my control slipping as my bear pushes closer to the surface.

"I'm going to ruin you," I growl against her ear. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll feel me for days."

"Yes," she moans, arching beneath me. "Wreck me, Leo. I want it all."

I grab her thighs, pushing them wider apart as I pound into her. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, along with her increasingly desperate cries.

"You're taking my cock so well," I praise, feeling my knot beginning to swell. "I'm going to knot you now, baby. I'm going to fill you up."

"Please!" she begs, her walls fluttering around me as another orgasm builds. "I need it!"

I thrust once more, burying myself deep as my knot locks us together. The sensation triggers her release, and she screams my name as she squirts around my cock, soaking us both.

"Fuck, Dahlia!" I roar, biting down on her shoulder as I empty myself inside her. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, more intense than anything I've ever experienced.

We stay connected, panting and trembling, as my knot slowly subsides. When I finally pull out, she whimpers at the loss, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"Sleep now, my love," I murmur, brushing sweat-soaked curls from her forehead. "We'll be here when you wake up."

Epilogue - Dahlia

Iwake up to sunlight streaming through the windows, casting golden patterns across the bedroom floor. For a moment, I just rest there, savoring the warmth and the tangle of limbs surrounding me. Evan's arm is draped across my waist, his breath tickling the back of my neck. Leo sleeps on my other side, one hand resting possessively on my hip. Onyx and Axl are sprawled at the foot of our ridiculous custom-made bed, their bodies forming a protective barrier between me and the door.

My pack. My Alphas. Mine.

It's been six weeks since Hammond's facility, six weeks since they saved me, six weeks since we all decided this arrangement wasn't temporary. The world has changed dramatically in that time, both my world and the world at large.

The cure worked. Not just on Mara and the infected shifter we captured, but on thousands of others. Evan used his resources to mass-produce and distribute it globally, while I worked with medical teams to refine the formula. The virus that was meant to destroy shifter-kind has been neutralized, and Hammond's "containment" program was dismantled.

Hammond himself is locked away in a secure government facility, facing charges that will keep him there for several lifetimes. His research has been seized, and his network of collaborators has been exposed. The world knows what he tried to do and what we stopped him from doing.

I stretch carefully, trying not to wake them. My body feels different this morning. Heavier somehow, and more sensitive. I've been feeling off for a few days now, but I've been too busy to pay much attention. Between press conferences, research papers, and establishing our unusual household, there hasn't been much time for self-reflection.

As I shift to sit up, a wave of nausea hits me. I freeze, waiting for it to pass, but it only intensifies when Evan rolls closer; his scent is suddenly overwhelming.

Oh no.

I carefully extricate myself from the tangle of bodies, moving with a stealth I didn't possess before my Omega awakening. None of them stir as I slip from the bed and pad quietly to the bathroom, closing the door behind me before I lunge for the toilet.

After emptying my stomach, I sit back on my heels, trembling slightly. This is the third morning in a row. I can't ignore it anymore.

"Dahlia?" Onyx's voice comes through the door, concerned. "You okay in there?"

"I'm fine," I call back, wincing at how unconvincing I sound. "Just... give me a minute."

I rinse my mouth and splash cold water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My skin glows with a radiance that has nothing to do with the lighting, and my eyes seem brighter somehow. I place a hand on my still-flat stomach, a suspicion forming that I'm not quite ready to voice.

When I walk out of the bathroom, all four of them are awake and watching me with varying degrees of concern.

"You look pale," Leo says, immediately moving to feel my forehead.

I duck away from his touch, suddenly overwhelmed by his scent. "I'm fine. I feel a little queasy."

"You've been 'queasy' every morning this week," Evan points out. "And you barely touched dinner last night."

"Maybe I'm coming down with something," I suggest, though I don't believe it myself.

Axl sits up, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "Or maybe it's something else."

Our eyes meet, and I see the question in his. He's more perceptive than the others sometimes give him credit for.

"I need to go to the lab," I say abruptly, grabbing clothes from the dresser. "I have some tests to run."

"Tests for what?" Onyx asks, his voice is deceptively casual.

I pull on a t-shirt and jeans, avoiding their gazes. "Just some follow-up work on the cure. Nothing important."

None of them believes me, and I can tell by the way they exchange glances, but they don't push. That's one of the things I love about them. For all their Alpha posturing, they respect my boundaries.

"I'll make breakfast," Leo offers, climbing out of bed. "Something light for your stomach."

"Thanks," I say, grateful for the change of subject. "I won't be long."

I make my escape before they can ask more questions, hurrying down to the lab in the basement of our new home. After the events at Hammond's facility, we decided we needed a place that could accommodate all of us and provide security. Evan purchased this estate on the outskirts of the city. It's twelve acres of wooded land surrounded by a state-of-the-art security system.

The lab is my sanctuary, a place where I can think clearly amidst the chaos of our unconventional relationship. I close the door behind me and lean against it, taking a deep breath.

"Computer, engage privacy protocol," I say.

"Privacy protocol engaged," the AI responds. "All monitoring systems disabled."

I move to the equipment I need. A simple blood test will confirm what I already suspect, but I'm not taking any chances. I draw my blood, then prepare the sample for analysis.

While the computer processes the results, I pace the length of the lab. If I'm right, and I'm almost sure I am, our lives are about to change again.

The question is, who's the father?

I laugh softly at the absurdity of the situation. Four Alphas, one Omega, and a heat cycle that lasted for a week. It could be any of them. It could be all of them, in a way. Omega biology is still largely uncharted territory, especially for someone like me who can bond with multiple Alphas.

The computer chimes, indicating that the analysis is complete. I take a deep breath and look at the screen.

Pregnancy Confirmed. Gestation: Approximately 7 weeks.

Even though I was expecting it, seeing the confirmation sends a shock through my system. I grab the vaginal ultrasound wand and insert it inside of me, looking for a heartbeat. To my surprise, I find four! I'm pregnant, and I'm pregnant with quadruplets! Lives are growing inside me; babies created from the bonds I share with my Alphas.

I run additional tests to check hormone levels and genetic markers. Everything looks normal, though "normal" is a relative term when dealing with an unprecedented multi-bonded Omega pregnancy.

I sit up heavily on the lab table, my hand moving instinctively to my stomach. Four babies. Our babies.

For a woman who spent most of her life devoted to science, the idea of motherhood never featured prominently in my plans. But now, knowing four lives are growing inside me, lives created from the most unexpected and powerful connections I've ever experienced, I feel a surge of protectiveness and joy that takes my breath away.

The question now is how to tell them.

I save the test results on my secure server and clear the screens. This news belongs to all of us, but I want to find the right moment, the right words.

As I make my way back upstairs, the scent of breakfast greets me.

They are all in the kitchen when I enter. Leo is at the stove, Evan is reading news on his tablet, Axl is perched on a counter strumming his guitar, and Onyx is leaning against the island, drinking coffee. They look up when I enter, and I see the question in their eyes.

"Is everything okay?" Evan asks, setting down his tablet.

I nod, moving to pour a glass of water on myself. "Yes."

Onyx's nostrils flare slightly, and I know he can smell the change in me. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but he says nothing.

"Sit," Leo orders, gesturing to the table. "I made plain toast and scrambled eggs. It should be gentle on your stomach."

I obey, suddenly ravenous despite the nausea from earlier. As I eat, I watch them move around each other with the easy familiarity we've developed. It wasn't always this smooth. The first few weeks were a tangle of jealousy, territorial disputes, and the occasional physical altercation. But we've found our rhythm, each of them carving out their role in our unusual family.

Evan handles the business and security aspects, using his resources to protect what we've built. Leo manages practical day-to-day operations; his mind is always alert to potential threats. Onyx provides the connection to the shifter community, bridging the gap between our world and theirs. And Axl brings joy and spontaneity, reminding us not to take ourselves too seriously.

And me? I'm the center, the Omega who holds them all together. The scientist who found the cure. The woman who loves them each differently but equally.

"You're quiet this morning," Axl observes, setting his guitar aside. "What's going on in that brilliant brain of yours?"

I look around at them, these four extraordinary men who've become my world. They deserve to know now.

"I have something to tell you," I say, setting down my fork. "Something important."

They immediately go still and focus all their attention on me. The intensity of four Alpha gazes is still overwhelming sometimes.

"Is it about the tests you ran?" Evan asks, his voice carefully neutral.

I nod, taking a deep breath. "I've been feeling strange lately..."

"Dahlia, are you...?" Leo asks

"Yes," I confirm, unable to keep the smile from spreading across my face. "I'm pregnant."

Axl whoops, nearly falling off the counter. Leo freezes, spatula in hand, eyes wide with shock. Evan's tablet clatters to the table as he stands abruptly. And Onyx, lets out a sound that's half laugh, half sob.

"You're sure?" Evan asks, moving to my side.

"Completely," I say. "About seven weeks along, which means..."

"It happened during the heat."

I nod. "But it’s not just one baby, we are expecting four! I would guess one for each of you, or all of you, in a way. Omega biology is complicated, especially with multiple bonds."

"OMG! Does it matter?" Axl asks, jumping down from the counter to join us. "These are our babies. All of ours."

"Axl's right," Onyx says. "The babies are pack, regardless."

I hadn't realized how worried I was about their reaction until this moment.

Leo kneels beside my chair, placing a gentle hand on my stomach. "Four babies," he murmurs, awe in his voice. "Our babies. So happy!"

Evan's hand joins Leo's. "How are you feeling about this?" he asks.

"Scared," I admit. "Excited. Overwhelmed. Happy." I look around at their faces, seeing my joy reflected in them. "Very, very happy."

Axl drops to his knees on my other side, pressing a kiss to my temple. "You're going to be an amazing mother, Dr. Baldwin."

"We'll need to increase security," Evan says, already planning. "And convert the largest spare room into a nursery."

"I'll call my cousin," Onyx adds. "There are traditional shifter birthing rituals we should consider."

"And I'll write the best damn lullabies ever heard," Axl promises with a grin.

I laugh, tears of joy spilling down my cheeks. "I love you all so much."

They surround me entirely now, their hands on me, their scents mingling into the familiar comfort of pack and home and safety. I've never felt more protected or more cherished.

"Well, boys," I murmur, placing a hand over my belly. "Looks like we're having pups."

Claimed by Fur and Fangs

Also by Fiona Black

If you enjoyed this book you, will also enjoy Claimed by Fur and Fangs – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CXGKZCWJ

Chapter 1 – Amelia

The air was thick with smoke as the flames roared from the refinery, casting an orange glow over the night sky. The sound of crackling fire and distant sirens made everything feel like it was happening in slow motion. I stood in the back of the ambulance, preparing for what I knew would be a chaotic night. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

The fire was still raging, and I could feel the heat even from where I stood at the edge of the scene. Then, I saw him merging from the smoke like some kind of warrior from another world. His broad shoulders were draped in soot and ash, his tan skin streaked with the grime of his battle with the fire. His blonde hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead as he moved with purpose. He was a firefighter, one of the first responders on the scene, and he wasn’t alone. On his broad shoulders, he carried an unconscious man with a grace and strength that didn’t match the urgency of the situation.

“Help!” His voice rang out, deep and commanding, but there was something raw, desperate beneath it. My heart picked up pace as I motioned toward the nearest gurney.

“Over here!” I called, rushing to meet him, the sounds of the world fading into the background as he approached.

Every step he took was powerful and assured, each stride bringing him closer. When he reached me, he lowered the unconscious man onto the gurney with careful precision, but there was a sense of urgency in his every movement. His intense blue eyes met mine with such force, I felt it deep within my chest.

“His name is Aidan Hale he was trapped,” he said, his voice shaking just slightly, betraying the effort he’d put into the rescue. “I got him out, but he wasn’t breathing, I did rescue breathing until he started breathing again, but barely.”

I nodded, trying to steady my breathing as I assessed Aidan’s vitals.

“And what’s your name?”

“Finn … Finn Harper” he answered.

“It’s strange that despite the fire Mr. Hale doesn’t have a single scratch though his clothes are torn but no burns on him…” I muttered.

But even with all the chaos swirling around us, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Finn’s gaze on me. It was intense, unyielding, like he could see straight through me. My heart raced, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the adrenaline of the fire or from the electricity pulsing between us.

“You’re hurt,” I said, finally noticing the gash on his forearm, the blood mixing with the grime on his skin.

“It’s nothing,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, his jaw tight. His focus was still entirely on Aidan, but I could see the way his body tensed, his hands shaking from the adrenaline still rushing through him. His blue eyes, stormy and deep, stayed fixed on mine for just a moment longer.

“You saved his life,” I murmured, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

A flicker of something passed through his gaze—gratitude, maybe relief—and then he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, as if the entire world had shrunk to just the two of us. His voice dropped, hushed but firm, “I didn’t save him to lose him now.”

The weight of his words pressed down on me, sending a shiver down my spine. I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “We’ll do everything we can.” The doctor and another nurse started attending Aidan and tried to make him regain consciousness.

For the briefest moment, I saw Finn’s shoulders relax, just a fraction, as if he’d been holding his breath this whole time. But then he seemed to remember his surroundings, the chaos and urgency of the situation. He turned away, taking a step back, but his gaze never left me.

“Let me take care of that cut,” I offered, my voice soft as I noticed the injury on his arm.

“I’m fine,” he said, but there was something in his tone that faltered when I gently grasped his wrist.

“You’re not,” I insisted quietly, the words almost a whisper.

I gently pressed the cloth to Finn’s arm, cleaning the wound as my hand brushed against his skin for just a moment. I saw his breath hitch, and in that brief second, everything else around us seemed to disappear.

"Thank you," Finn said, his voice low, almost a whisper, but there was something in it that sent warmth flooding through me.

“You’re welcome” I whispered as I drowned in the depth of his gaze.

As the nurses rolled Aidan into the ambulance, I couldn’t resist stealing a glance over my shoulder. Finn was still watching me, his eyes never leaving mine, and I couldn’t help but wonder what this unspoken connection between us meant.

“Don’t you dare touch me!” Aidan growled at the nurse as he immediately came down from the ambulance.

“What do you think you are doing sir?” I immediately rushed to him.

“Alma?” Aidan said looking at me intently and confused.

“Sorry?”

“How’s this possible?” he whispered.

“What are you talking about sir?”

Aidan gently touched my face and at that moment I felt something I couldn’t explain. For a split second we were both consumed by each other’s gaze.

Aidan’s hand lingered on my face for just a moment too long, and I felt a rush of warmth flood through me.

“No, this has to be a dream… how…” Aidan murmured, his voice barely a whisper, full of disbelief. “You… You’re Alma.”

“I… I’m not Alma,” I said quickly, my heart racing. “I’m Amelia Thompson. You seem to be mistaking me for someone else sir”

Aidan blinked rapidly, as if trying to focus, trying to make sense of what I had just said. His face went pale, his breathing shallow, and his hands were shaking. He stroked his short dark hair in an almost absent-minded way, as if searching for something, something to anchor him.

“I’m so sorry,” Aidan said quietly, his voice full of regret, realizing his mistake. “I—”

Before I could respond, a man rushed toward him from the chaos. He was tall, his features sharp, and he moved quickly, his face tight with concern.

“Sir!” the man called out; his voice full of urgency. “Sir, are you okay?”

Aidan’s eyes, still filled with confusion, flickered to the man. “I’m fine Julian. Just… just get me out of here. I want to go home.” His voice was firm now, resolute.

Julian, who had to be some sort of assistant, looked between Aidan and me, his gaze narrowing as he took in the scene. He turned toward me, and his eyes widened with recognition.

“Miss Alma? How’s this possible? You are…” Julian asked, his voice full of uncertainty.

“No,” Aidan interrupted, his voice sharp. “She’s not Alma. I thought she was too. Please… I need to go home.”

Julian hesitated, clearly unsure of what was going on, but nodded, stepping back to help Aidan. My heart pounded in my chest, but I knew I had to focus. The scene was chaotic, and there were still so many others who needed attention.

I turned, trying to push the strange interaction with Aidan out of my mind, and looked around for other victims from the fire. People were injured, their faces twisted in pain, and there was no time to waste.

I worked quickly, doing my best to assess and treat the wounded, but as I moved through the crowd, my eyes kept searching. There was no sign of Finn.

Where is he? I thought.

I took a deep breath and climbed into the back of the ambulance with one of the rescued patients, trying to shake the unsettling feeling in my chest. As we sped off toward the hospital, the weight of everything pressed down on me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had just happened with Aidan—and why it felt like there was something much deeper between us than a simple mistake.

The ambulance came to a screeching halt at the hospital entrance, the sound of the tires skidding on the pavement cutting through the haze of my thoughts. I quickly slid open the doors, moving to assist the team that rushed out to meet us.

The burn team took over almost immediately, transferring the patient onto a hospital stretcher with practiced precision. I stepped aside, my hands still trembling from the night's chaos, feeling the heat of the fire cling to my skin. As the patient was rushed inside, I glanced back, half-expecting to see Finn.

“Amelia!”

I froze at the sound of my name, familiar and warm. I turned to see Sienna striding towards me with her usual energetic pace. My best friend and flat mate, Sienna was wearing her doctor’s scrubs, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail as usual, a few strands escaping as she jogged toward me.

“There you are! You look like you’ve been through the wringer,” she said, concern lining her features as she looked me up and down. “What happened?”

I chuckled softly, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Just another day at the hospital,” I said, attempting to brush off the tension. “You know how it is—fire, chaos, injuries. The usual.”

“You look like you’re about to collapse. You sure you’re, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, though my voice was less certain than I’d intended. I was still shaken from the fire, from everything that had happened. But now that Sienna was here, I felt a little lighter. “Just a lot to process tonight.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’ve got a shift that just started, so I’m all yours,” Sienna grinned, her voice playful, but there was a glint of concern in her eyes. “Tell me everything.”

I shook my head, offering her a tired smile. “It’s been a weird one. There was this guy, Aidan... He—” I paused, trying to find the right words. “He mistook me for someone else, some woman named Alma.”

Sienna’s eyes widened in confusion. “Alma? What do you mean? How could he confuse you for someone else?”

“I don’t know…” I muttered, the confusion of the moment still swirling in my chest. “But when he touched my face—” I stopped myself, realizing I was rambling. “It was just... odd.”

“Sounds like he might be in shock or something,” Sienna suggested, her tone thoughtful. “Maybe he’s mixing up memories, or it could be trauma from the fire. Who knows? We get a lot of weird reactions to that kind of thing.”

I nodded, still unsettled by the whole encounter. “Maybe. But something felt off. And then Julian—Aidan’s assistant, I think—came running over and called me Alma too.” I sighed.

Sienna gave me a sympathetic look and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe you just have a striking resemblance with someone they know”

“I guess you’re right”

“I get it. Sometimes these things don’t make sense. But hey, I’m here now. Let’s get you some coffee, yeah?”

Before I could answer, my pager buzzed in my pocket, a soft reminder that there was no time to rest. I looked down at it and sighed. “Duty calls. But we’ll talk later. I promise.”

“Of course,” Sienna smiled.

As I moved through the halls of the hospital, my mind kept drifting back to the scene at the refinery. The sounds, the smoke, the chaos of it swirling in my head. But something else had been nagging me, something I couldn’t shake.

I stopped in my tracks, my heart skipping a beat as a realization hit me like a cold wave.

“Aidan never had any injury not even a scratch despite being brought out from a raging fire… his clothes were torn but his body was untouched. That’s strange” I whispered.

To keep reading click here – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CXGKZCWJ

About Fiona Black

In the bustling city of Boston, MA, resides Fiona Black, a name synonymous with captivating contemporary romance and enthralling fantasy narratives. A mother to two incredible children, Fiona juggles her writing career with a kaleidoscope of interests, including teaching, real estate, and consulting. Each role she undertakes is infused with the same passion and dedication that she pours into her writing.

Fiona's journey into the literary world was not just a choice but a calling. She found in writing a medium to channel her vivid imagination and deep-seated emotions, crafting stories that resonate with the hearts of her readers. Her novels are more than just escapism; they are a celebration of love, resilience, and the magic that dwells within the ordinary.

A life rich in experiences and challenges has been the wellspring of inspiration for Fiona. Whether it's the complexities of relationships she explores in her romance novels or the fantastical realms she constructs in her fantasy works, her writing is a tapestry of her life's adventures and dreams.

Fiona's books are not just written; they are woven from the threads of her soul. Each character, every plot twist, and the emotions they evoke are a testament to her belief in the power of stories.