Chapter 4 Skylar

The first mistake is kissing Rhys Kincaid back.

The second is answering my mother's call while his hand is still wrapped around my throat.

My phone vibrates across the desk. I try pulling away, but Rhys follows like instinct, like his body already decided mine belongs close.

"Wait."

His mouth drags across mine before he stops. Barely.

"My mom's calling."

That gets his attention. Not enough to make him move far, but enough that his eyes sharpen. I grab the phone with shaking fingers.

"Hi."

"Skylar." Quick and tense. "Are you alone?"

Rhys leans against the desk beside me, watching my face carefully.

"Yes."

Lie. His eyes narrow like he heard it in my heartbeat.

"Did anyone recognize your name? Did anyone say Voss?"

"No."

Another lie. Rhys reaches over, slowly pulls my hair away from my neck. My entire body goes rigid.

"You need to stay invisible," Mom continues. "No attention. No scenes. No reasons for anybody to remember you."

His fingers slide lightly against my throat. Heat hits so hard I lose my train of thought.

"Skylar?"

"I'm listening."

Rhys's gaze lifts to mine. Completely aware of what he's doing.

"You especially stay away from the Kincaids. Malcolm spent twelve years making sure nobody could challenge his claim to your father's territory."

Too late. Way too late.

I make the mistake before I can stop myself. "Malcolm assigned his son to watch me."

Rhys goes very still. Every trace of teasing disappears.

My mother stops breathing. Then: "No." Shattered.

Flood of fear, straight through me. "Mom—"

"You listen carefully. You cannot let Malcolm Kincaid connect you back to your father." Fast movement crackles down the line, must be pacing. "And he absolutely cannot trace you back to me."

The room changes shape. Suddenly I'm not in a dorm. I'm twelve again, watching my mother nail blankets over motel windows because somebody smelled wolf nearby. Pack bags in under ten minutes. Sleep with knives under pillows.

Rhys watches my face carefully. Thinking.

"If Malcolm realizes Elliot's human mate survived," Mom says rapidly, "he will come for me too."

"Your father's territory legally should've passed to me after his death. But humans can't hold wolf land." Her breathing roughens. "Malcolm knew that. That's why he hunted us instead of challenging for the territory properly."

Rhys goes very still beside me.

"The only legal way to absorb another Alpha's land permanently is through the surviving mate or heir. And Malcolm would rather burn territory to ground than admit a human woman had claim to it."

My throat tightens. She sounds certain. Not paranoid. Certain.

"You stay away from his son," she says sharply. "Do you understand me?"

My eyes lift to Rhys. He's already watching me, completely calm. Which somehow feels worse than the teasing.

"I understand."

The call ends after repeated warnings, one desperate reminder not to trust anybody with the Kincaid name.

The second I lower my phone, I move away from Rhys. Actual distance this time. My pulse is still hammering.

Rhys doesn't try touching me again. He just watches me silently.

"My father thought your mother died years ago."

I fold my arms tight. "She didn't."

"No." His expression hardens. "Which means if he realizes she survived, he'll start looking for her immediately."

Ice settles low in my stomach. "He can't just kill people."

Rhys studies me like he's deciding how honest to be. Then apparently decides: very.

"My father can't openly execute you. You're part wolf. Council law protects you whether he likes it or not." He pauses. "As long as you can't shift, most wolves won't see you as a real threat. He'll tell himself you're basically human."

My jaw tightens. "But?"

His eyes hold mine steadily. "But if you ever shift or I fear, ever go into heat..."

He doesn't finish. Doesn't need to. Then I stop being Elliot Voss's half-human daughter. I become his heir.

"You're not dangerous because of what you are now. You're dangerous because of what you could become."

My stomach tightens. "And my mother?"

Silence. That's answer enough.

"There are no real protections for humans. Not against powerful wolves." He doesn't sound emotional. He sounds practical. Like this is simply how the world works. "My father understands pack law. He understands council politics. Killing wolves creates problems." His eyes hold mine. "Humans disappear quietly."

Something cold slides down my spine. Suddenly I understand exactly why my mother spent twelve years running.

"She's in danger because of me."

"Yes."

No hesitation at all. No comforting lie. Just the hobest to the Moons truth. I hate that part of me appreciates it.

Rhys pushes away from the wall slowly. "If Malcolm thinks I'm handling you personally, he stops digging. If he believes I'm simply dating you for leverage. He lets me report back. He lets me control the situation."

"And if my father asks whether you're showing wolf traits," he says calmly, "I lie."

My stomach tightens. "You'd do that?"

"I already am."

"You mean lie to him."

"I mean survive him."

Silence stretches between us , not heated, but heavy. Now I finally understand what he's actually offering: not romance but cover, time, protection. From his own father.

"You really think fake dating fixes this?"

"No." Calm. Controlled. "I think it keeps Malcolm from assigning another wolf to watch you while he investigates."

"And if he does investigate?"

"He finds your mother eventually."

The words hit like a knife through my ribs. We both know he's right. I hate that he's right.

"You're asking me to trust a Kincaid."

"I'm asking you to trust that I know my father better than you do."

Because I do. Which is unfortunate.

I look away first. Thinking, exactly like my mother taught me. Rhys waits silently. No pushing. And thankfully no teasing. Just watching me decide whether I'm desperate enough to make a deal with the son of the man who destroyed my family.

The horrifying part is—I am.

"Fine." Quiet. "We fake date."

Rhys goes very still.

"But there are rules."

His eyes narrow. "What kind of rules?"

"No kissing."

His mouth almost twitches. "That sounds optimistic."

God. This is such a terrible idea.

"Nobody finds out we're mates. Ever."

"Agreed."

"You tell your father whatever keeps him away from my mother."

"I will."

I hesitate. Then force out the last part. "One more thing."

His gaze lifts fully to mine.

"You can't sleep with anyone else while you're fake dating me."

Rhys goes completely still. The room suddenly feels very quiet, very small. His eyes stay locked on mine like he's trying to figure out whether I understand what I just admitted.

Because I do. Unfortunately.

Fake dating is one thing. Telling Rhys Kincaid he can't touch another girl feels dangerously close to something else. Possessive. Mate-level possessive.

Judging by his face, he hears the difference too.

"You're making rules for a relationship you claim isn't real," he says quietly.

Heat crawls up my throat. "It's about appearances."

"Right." The single word drips disbelief.

I cross my arms tighter. "You sleep around. People know that. If we're fake dating and you keep hooking up with random girls, people will question it."

Rhys keeps staring at me—calm, focused, impossible to read.

Then slowly: "Would it bother you?"