"Mama?" he whispered, voice thick from sleepiness, "Gonna stay here forever?"
Her heart tightened even as she forced a smile, "For now, sweetie. We'll see how things go."
Alexander yawned, wrinkling up his face before he buried further into the pillows. The bed was bigger than the one at home, made of thick, old wood carved hundreds of years ago. The rest of the room reflected the cabin-like feel of Luthor's house—lots of deer antler furniture, forest landscapes, and lush green colors.
"I like this house, but I liked our old house, too. Will we ever go back?"
The lump abruptly materialized in her throat, and swallowing it was difficult. "Maybe someday," she fibbed, not sure if Luthor would ever let them go. "For now, this is home."
He softly grunted a response, already asleep. It was a kindness because she didn't know if she could answer another tragic question. It was just one day, and she already missed her small cottage horribly. She sat with him for a bit, watching the rise and fall of his chest, reassuring herself that he was safe. As long as she lived, he'd always be safe.
Finally, she stood up, steeling herself to spend her first night in Tenzclaw lands after all those years. She crept toward the door, trying to slip into her room unnoticed, leaving Alexander's door open like he preferred. Glancing in at her boy one last time, she turned down the hallway—
And ran headlong into a wall of flesh.
She gasped, hands shooting out to grab on, closing around warm, smooth skin instead of what she expected. She recognized without seeing, without even looking, that it was Luthor. Their bond resonated, and her scent gland pulsed.
She drew her hands away from him as if she'd been burned, but there was no escape. Slowly, she looked up at his face. Luthor's arms were crossed, his expression blank. The overhead light highlighted the planes of his lean body, the lines of his abs, and the sharp cut of his shoulders. He had ever been strong, but time had strengthened him, honed him into something even more powerful. More deeply beautiful.
Before she could control herself, she breathed in deeply, taking in his scent of black pepper and cedar. Inside her, two responded: her wolf, restless and hungry, and her witch magic, furious and volatile. The tension was almost too much, and she laid a hand to her chest to try and cut off the maelstrom. It was, of course, a lost cause.
"You're a good liar," Luthor told her, his eyes looking down at her. Had he ever been this stupidly tall?
And then his words hit her. "Liar? Excuse me?"
He waved his arm around Alexander's room. "Making all of this sound like an everyday thing. Making him believe he's safe when we both know you'd be anywhere else in the world than here."
She bristled, folding her arms and reflecting his gesture. "You're right about that. But I'm only lying because you're forcing me." Everything I do is for Alexander."
"Everything, huh? Running, hiding, and keeping him from his father?"
His words stung, but once more, he was correct, "I did what I had to."
"Did you? Or were you angry because I wouldn't have you as a mate back when we were younger?"
"You're a bully, Luthor. You always were." She knew she was supposed to be tiptoeing around, that the Alpha of a whole pack of wolves wasn't someone you wanted on your shitlist, but she couldn't help herself.
Her emotions had been pent up inside for far too long, and the urge to give Luthor lip for how he had treated her was too much. The bond that was pulling them together did not make any of it easier, because she was angry at herself for continuing to be drawn to him after all these years.
His lips pressed into a tight line, he looked at her beneath heavy lashes. "Is that so?" he murmured.
She nodded. "It's no wonder that I never changed. Your intimidation and your pack's intimidation drove my wolf into subjection. The only thing that ever kept me from being broken was my son and hope for a future someplace far from this God-damned pack."
He leaned closer, bringing their faces even nearer, reminding her at the worst possible time of how pleasant it had been to kiss him previously. "If that is so, why don't you run again, Sharon? It's what you do best."
She scoffed, trying to step back but feeling only the wall behind her. "I'm not foolish, Luthor, I realize you have your wolves covering every door."
His smile was slow and predatory, and his hands came up on either side of her head against the wall, fingers splayed, trapping her. "Good. Though I wouldn't mind the opportunity to chase you through the woods, mate. Maybe we'd discover once and for all if there's a wolf in there or not."
She swallowed, heat spreading low in her stomach, even as anger boiled up in her, "That's never going to happen. And I'm not your mate, not by choice."
"The pack ceremony says you are. What we both felt says that you are. Mate, wife, whatever you want me to refer to you as…you're mine."
Her fists were tight by her sides, magic coursing and churning beneath her skin, desperate to lash out. But when she reached for it, the power slipped through her fingers like sand. She couldn't hold on to it no matter how hard she tried.
The realization hit her like a punch to the diaphragm—her magic, her sole real defense against Luthor, didn't work around him because of him. It had somehow sensed he was her mate and wouldn't obey her when she tried to strike out at him.
She was helpless, stuck there as his aroma curled around her, the proximity of his body igniting something low in her stomach. She felt fire burn through her as he bent toward her, eyes on her face, consuming every flicker of emotion as though she were his prey.
Her magic flared once in her chest, like a firework bursting before fizzling out.