The Feral Alpha's Secret Wolfless Mate

Jaren POV The heavy mahogany doors of my grandmother’s parlor slammed shut behind me, but the suffocating scent of her aged agarwood still clung to my senses. My Inner Wolf was pacing, agitated by her demands for a pureblood Princess. I didn't need a political pawn. I needed the woman who had set my blood on fire. I strode into my Alpha Suite, expecting the familiar comfort of dark rum and cedar. Instead, a repulsive, synthetic floral stench assaulted my nose. Jessenia was draped across my leather sofa, wearing a sheer silk nightgown that left nothing to the imagination. She smiled, a trembling, desperate attempt at seduction. "My Lord," she purred, shifting to display the bruises I had left on her arms. "I thought you might need... relief." My beast snarled in pure disgust. The deception was glaringly obvious now. The woman from that night had tasted like heaven; this Omega smelled like cheap desperation. "Stand up," I ordered. She scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide. "Take it off." I let my Alpha's Command bleed into my voice, heavy and absolute. Jessenia gasped, her Omega wolf whimpering under the crushing weight of my aura. Her trembling hands reached for the silk straps, letting the gown pool at her feet. I stepped closer, my golden eyes locking onto her bare skin. I didn't care about her body. I stared directly at her collarbone. Smooth. Unblemished. There was no bite mark. The deep, bone-crushing puncture my canines had left in the throes of my Heat was completely absent. A violent, blinding rage ripped through me. I had been played. "Get out," I snarled, my voice dropping to a lethal, icy whisper. "Jaren, please, I—" "Get out before I tear your throat out!" I roared. Jessenia sobbed in sheer terror, snatching her gown and fleeing the suite. I poured a glass of dark rum, my knuckles white as I gripped the crystal. The fake was gone, but the real one was still out there. Through the heavy oak door, my enhanced hearing picked up the frantic patter of footsteps in the corridor. Jessenia had intercepted Elsie, one of the maids. "What happened?" Elsie whispered. "It's that little Wolfless rat, Eliana!" Jessenia hissed, her voice venomous with jealousy. "She got herself transferred to the Dowager Luna's parlor this afternoon. She's playing the innocent victim, but I know she's just trying to seduce him! She wants to be close to him!" *Eliana.* The glass in my hand shattered, amber liquid spilling over my fingers. The pieces slammed together in my mind with sickening clarity. The Wolfless maid from this morning. The one scrubbing the floors, reeking of harsh lye soap and wet ash. The one who had buttoned my shirt, trembling like a leaf. When I had leaned in, my nose brushing her collarbone, I had caught it—the faintest, buried trace of white peach and jasmine. She had hidden the bite mark under the mud. She had masked her scent. She had been right under my nose. My Inner Wolf let out a low, vibrating growl of pure obsession. By midnight, the Pack House was dead silent, but my blood was boiling. I prowled the grounds, my instincts dragging me toward the edge of the Dowager Luna's courtyard. The night air was crisp, but then it hit me. Without the lye soap, without the ash, the scent was undeniable. White peach and jasmine. It was a siren song, pulling me toward the flimsy wooden washroom near the servant quarters. I didn't knock. I kicked the door. The cheap wood splintered and gave way instantly. Thick steam rolled out into the cool night. Inside, Eliana gasped, her eyes wide with absolute terror. She scrambled backward in the large wooden tub, trying to sink beneath the soapy water to hide her naked body. But she wasn't fast enough. My gaze locked onto her pale, wet skin. Right there, on her delicate collarbone, were the angry, healing puncture wounds of my teeth. *Mine!* my beast roared, a primal sound that shook the very foundations of my soul. "My Lord, please—" she choked out, shrinking against the back of the tub. I crossed the damp room in two strides. I didn't care that she was Wolfless. I didn't care about the Dowager's rules. I grabbed her wet, trembling chin, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes were wide, swimming with desperate tears, but I felt no mercy—only a ravenous, all-consuming hunger. I crashed my lips onto hers. The second our skin touched, a violent electric spark exploded through my veins. It was a jolt of pure, agonizing pleasure that stole the breath from my lungs. She whimpered, her small hands pushing weakly against my chest, but I only deepened the kiss, claiming the taste of her.