Rejected By Him, Claimed By His Brother

Liora POV:

He wrapped one powerful arm around my waist, a gesture of pure possession, and steered me through the parting sea of rogues. The cold night air outside was a shock to my system, clearing some of the alcoholic fog from my head. I maintained my act, leaning against his solid frame as if I couldn't stand on my own.

As we left, he tossed a final, cutting remark over his shoulder to the bar owner. "Put her tab on my brother's account."

He led me to a sleek black sedan, a vehicle far more luxurious and imposing than anything Kade drove. He opened the passenger door, and I slid inside without a word. The interior smelled of rich leather and him—an intense, clean scent of pine and approaching snowstorms. It was overwhelming, a stark contrast to Kade’s familiar scent of earth and oak.

Rowan got in beside me but didn't start the car. He turned, his stormy grey eyes pinning me in place. They were sharp, analytical, missing nothing.

"You know who I am," he stated. It wasn't a question.

My heart began to pound. This was the first test. "Rowan Hayes," I whispered, making my voice sound small. "Kade's brother."

"Then you know what coming to me means for him." His voice was low, a velvet-wrapped threat, probing for my real motive.

I met his gaze, letting a single, perfect tear escape and trace a path down my cheek. "He took everything from me," I said, my voice thick with a carefully crafted mix of hatred and pain. "I want him to feel what that's like."

I was packaging my complex revenge as a simple, scorned-woman plot. It was a motive he would understand, a motive he could use.

It worked. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. He leaned back, the interrogation over for now, and started the car. It pulled away from the curb with a silent, powerful hum.

We drove in silence, the city lights a blur outside my window. I pretended to watch them, but my mind was racing, planning my next move. I knew what tonight required. To gain his trust, to secure my place at his side, I had to offer him the ultimate proof of my defection. It was a grim, necessary price.

The car glided into an exclusive, high-rise building overlooking the entire city. This was his private territory, a modern fortress of glass and steel, far removed from the traditional packhouse.

A private elevator took us to the penthouse. The small, enclosed space amplified his presence, his Alpha pheromones pressing in on me from all sides. Lyra bristled, recognizing the scent of a powerful, un-mated male as a threat. I had to force her down, smothering her Alpha instincts and projecting only the submission of an Omega.

The apartment was breathtaking and cold. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a glittering panorama of the city. The decor was minimalist, all black, white, and chrome—as starkly beautiful and unyielding as the man himself.

Rowan shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto a leather sofa. He moved to a wet bar and poured two glasses of amber liquid.

He held one out to me. "So, tell me what you want, Liora," he said, his voice dangerously soft as he leaned against the bar. "Protection? Or a weapon for your revenge?"

I didn't take the glass. I closed the distance between us, stepping into his personal space until I had to tilt my head back to look into his eyes. I gave him my answer not with words, but with my body, with the raw declaration in my gaze.

"I want you."