Just hours earlier…
After escorting Emily home, she clung to him like a second skin, her scent clouding his judgment.
“Stay a while, Damien.” Her fingers traced hypnotic circles on his palm. “You’re already here…”
An inexplicable anxiety squeezed his chest. Something felt wrong.
“I should get back to Sierra,” he muttered. “I promised to spend tonight with her.”
He tried pulling away from Emily’s touch, Sierra’s disappointed face haunting him.
It had been so long since he’d properly been with his mate. The guilt gnawed at him.
The thought of Sierra waiting brought a fond, guilty smile to his lips.
Emily wasn’t deterred. She pressed herself against him, arms snaking around his waist.
“But don’t you want to see what I’m wearing under this?” Her voice dripped honey. “I bought it just for you… but if you don’t want to see it…”
Her hands slipped under his shirt, nails grazing his skin.
Damien’s expression hardened even as desire stirred. “No. I promised Sierra.”
But Emily knew exactly how to touch him, where to press. Soon his resolve crumbled like sand.
Hours later, he meticulously straightened his clothes, checking that not a single wrinkle would betray his infidelity.
The drive home felt longer than usual, dread building with each mile.
“Sierra, I’m back. Sorry I was…” Late. The words died in his throat.
Something was terribly wrong.
The pack house stood silent as a tomb. Sierra’s scent was hours old.
Moonlight flowers – her favorites – sat untouched in their vase, already beginning to wilt.
His heart lurched painfully as he searched room after empty room.
Any moment now, she’d appear. She had to.
