Ava’s POV

The room froze when I saw him kiss her. One second I was hidden in the shadows, and the next my claws were digging into my palms, blood dripping onto the marble floor.

Control, Ava. You can’t shift here.

I stood in the darkest corner of Moonlight Lodge’s ballroom. My champagne tasted like cardboard. Shadow Creek pack was still a mess after our Alpha’s death last month. Not the time or place for me to lose control.

Jackson and Sophia swayed on the dance floor. My ex-fated mate couldn’t keep his hands off the Silverpeak princess. When she laughed at whatever he whispered, pain shot through my mark.

My neck burned where he’d marked me. Four months ago, he swore we were meant to be. Now he’s chasing power instead of love. His plan was simple: marry the Alpha King’s daughter, become Shadow Creek’s next Alpha. Easy upgrade from dating a nobody like me.

My fangs were already pressing against my lower lip. No amount of breathing exercises would stop this shift if I stayed watching them another minute.

I set down my champagne and made a beeline for the bar. Maybe alcohol could drown the rage before I fully transformed in a room full of elites who’d eat me alive for the entertainment value.

“Double whiskey,” I growled, not bothering to hide the gravel in my voice. The bartender’s eyes widened at what must have been the yellow glow of my irises.

“Make that a Moonlight Martini for the lady,” a deep voice cut in. “And the whiskey for me.”

My wolf froze mid-snarl. Just… stopped. Like someone had hit pause on her fury.

I turned and looked up—way up—into eyes the color of a storm-tossed sea. They weren’t just looking at me; they were seeing through me.

He wasn’t pretty-boy handsome like Jackson. This man’s face had character—laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, a slight crease between his brows from frowning too much. Dark hair with silver at the temples. His suit fit him like a second skin, but couldn’t hide the raw power underneath.

But his scent—fuck. Rain-soaked pine trees, woodsmoke, and something wild that made my wolf sit up and beg. The complete opposite to Jackson’s cologne-masked scent that never made my wolf react like this.

“I didn’t ask for your input,” I said, trying to sound tough while my wolf was practically rolling over.

One corner of his mouth kicked up. “You’re about thirty seconds from shifting in a roomful of pack leaders. The drink has wolfsbane extract. It’ll help.”

I glanced down at my hands. Claws, not fingernails.

“Whatever,” I muttered.

The bartender slid over the martini—swirling silver-blue like moonlight on water.

The stranger leaned closer. “Drink up. Your eyes are giving you away.”

I knocked it back in one go, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste.

“Better?” he asked, voice so deep I felt it in my chest.

The effect was almost immediate. My wolf settled, claws retracting, teeth returning to normal.

“Thanks,” I said reluctantly. “Though I’m not sure why you give a damn if I make a scene.”

His eyes flicked to the dance floor, then back to me with unexpected heat. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for underdogs.”

Before I could respond, people started moving aside, stepping back to clear a path. For him. The penny dropped.

“You’re Blake Morgan,” I said, my stomach doing a backflip. “The Silverpeak Alpha.”

The Alpha King. The one who could destroy every Alpha in the world with a single command.

My wolf cowered and preened at the same time, a confusing mix.

“And you’re wearing a mate mark that’s being rejected.” His gaze dropped to my neck where the silver-white mark throbbed. “Who did that to you?”

The question hung between us. Telling the Alpha King that his future son-in-law had marked and abandoned me seemed like a bad idea.

“Someone who decided power was more attractive than keeping his word,” I said instead.