**Ava's POV**
I stared at him like he'd just asked me to juggle fire. The Alpha King—the most powerful werewolf in our world—was standing three feet away asking for my opinion on the man who'd destroyed me.
*This is it. This is how I die.*
"I..." I started, then stopped. My claws were still out, my eyes still glowing. There was no hiding what I was or what state I was in.
Blake's eyes flicked to my hands, then back to my face. "You're about thirty seconds from a full shift in a room full of pack leaders," he observed calmly. "That mark on your neck isn't helping."
I touched it reflexively, wincing as pain shot through me. "How did you—"
"It's not hard to figure out." He moved to a cabinet in the corner of the lounge, returning with a glass of water and some dried herbs. "Chew these. They'll help with the control."
I stared at the herbs in his palm. "You just carry werewolf medication around?"
"Only when I'm dealing with someone whose mate mark is being rejected." His gaze was steady, almost gentle. "Which brings us back to my question. Jackson, isn't it?"
The name hit like a physical blow. I couldn't speak, but my silence was answer enough.
"When?" he asked quietly.
"Four months ago," I managed. "Right before he decided marrying your daughter was more important than honoring a fated mate bond."
Blake's jaw tightened—the only sign that my words affected him. "And he never tried to break the mark properly?"
I laughed bitterly. "Apparently dumping me in a coffee shop with 'it's not personal, it's politics' counts as a clean break in his book."
"Take the herbs, little wolf."
The unexpected endearment made something warm unfurl in my chest. Not my name—he didn't know my name—but something that felt oddly intimate coming from him.
I chewed the bitter herbs, grimacing at the taste. The effect was almost immediate—my claws retracted, the burning in my mark eased to a dull ache.
"Better?"
I nodded, then realized what I'd just done. "Why are you helping me? I'm nobody. Just a Delta's adopted daughter who got played by your future son-in-law."
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "Let me be the judge of who's worth helping."
The lounge suddenly felt smaller. Blake wasn't just looking at me—he was seeing me. Really seeing me, in a way that made my wolf practically purr with satisfaction.
Which was insane. This was Jackson's future father-in-law. The Alpha King. Someone so far above my pay grade it wasn't even funny.
But my wolf didn't seem to care about any of that. She was responding to something primal in his scent, something that called to every instinct I had.
"May I?" He gestured toward my neck, where the mark was still visible.
Every rational part of my brain screamed at me to say no. To run. This was the Alpha King—Jackson's future father-in-law. Nothing good could come from this.
Instead, I found myself tilting my head, exposing the silver-white mark to his gaze.
When his fingertips first brushed my skin, lightning shot through me. Not the burning pain I'd gotten used to, but something warm and electric that made my breath catch.
"The mark is inflamed," he murmured, his voice taking on a clinical tone that didn't quite match the way his touch lingered. "This level of rejection... it should have faded by now."
His fingers traced the outline more carefully, and I had to bite back a gasp. My wolf, who should have been cowering before the most dominant Alpha in existence, was instead pushing toward his touch like she was starved for it.
"It's..." I started, then stopped as his thumb brushed over the most sensitive part of the mark. Heat pooled low in my belly, completely inappropriate and utterly unstoppable.
"It's what?" His eyes met mine, and I saw my own confusion reflected there.
"It doesn't hurt when you touch it," I whispered.
Something shifted in his expression. His hand, which had been examining the mark with careful professionalism, flattened against my neck. His palm was warm, slightly rough, and covered the entire mark like he was claiming it.
"Interesting." His voice had dropped lower, rougher.
"What?" I could barely get the word out. My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it.
"This mark—it's responding to me." His thumb stroked along my pulse point, and I shivered despite the warmth of the room. "I've never seen anything like it."
I couldn't think past the sensation of his hand on my neck, the way my skin seemed to burn in the best possible way wherever he touched. "I don't understand."
"Neither do I." He stepped closer, eliminating the last bit of space between us. His scent—rain-soaked pine and something wildly masculine—wrapped around me like a drug. "But I want to find out."
My wolf was practically purring now, pressing me toward him in a way that should have been embarrassing. This was insane. Completely nuts. He was the father of the woman who'd stolen my mate. The most powerful werewolf alive. And I was nobody—just someone Jackson had used and discarded when something better came along.
But my body didn't care about any of that. It only cared about the way Blake's eyes had darkened, the way his free hand had come up to rest on my waist like it belonged there.
"This is a bad idea," I breathed, even as I found myself leaning into his touch.
"Probably." His hand slid from my neck to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. "But I've never been known for my good decisions where beautiful wolves are concerned."
When he leaned down, it felt inevitable. His mouth met mine with a gentleness that quickly transformed into something hungrier. I melted against him, my hands fisting in his shirt as everything else faded away.
He kissed me like I was something precious, not disposable. Like I mattered. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, and I let him because for the first time in months, I felt like I could breathe again.
Just as his hands reached the hem of my gown, a voice sliced through my mind like a knife:
*Ava... they took your father...*
I gasped, jerking back from Blake as color drained from my face. My mother's voice, shaky and terrified, crashed through our mindlink with the force of a freight train.
