Chapter 7 He Smells Like Her

Lyra's POV

I let the transformation take hold, feeling my consciousness merge with my wolf's as my bones restructured and my senses exploded into hyperacute awareness. The ceremonial dress fell away, the delicate fabric tearing as my body expanded and shifted into lupine form.

My wolf's midnight-black coat gleamed under the moonlight as we tore through the gardens, our paws silent on the damp earth.

There! My wolf spotted movement ahead. A figure in white moving quickly through the service pathways behind the estate.

I bounded forward, closing the distance in seconds. But as I got closer, my enhanced senses caught something wrong. The scent was similar but not exact. Too young, too floral.

The woman turned, startled by my approach, and I froze. Not Dr. Blackwood at all, just a young catering staff member carrying linens that reeked of medical-grade cleaning supplies.

Wrong person, my wolf realized with bitter disappointment.

I retreated into the shadows behind the estate's service buildings, shifting back to human form. The transformation left me dizzy and completely naked in the cool night air.

Clothes, I thought desperately, scanning the area.

I crept along the building's edge until I found a service line where staff uniforms were drying. I grabbed a simple black dress that looked approximately my size and slipped it on quickly. It was loose and plain, nothing like the ceremonial gown I'd destroyed in my shift, but it would have to do.

I smoothed the borrowed dress and tried to make myself presentable.

I hurried back toward the estate.

The grand hall had transformed again in my absence. A small stage had been erected at one end, decorated with the Blackthorne Foundation's silver moon crest. Guests were taking their seats as the scholarship ceremony prepared to begin.

What I saw next stopped me cold.

Dorian stood on the stage beside the podium, looking impossibly handsome in his formal attire. But he wasn't alone. Seraphina stood beside him, her dress replaced by an elegant silver gown. They moved together with practiced ease, sharing quiet conversations and knowing looks.

As I watched, frozen in the doorway, Seraphina laughed at something Dorian said. Then, with deliberate intimacy, she lifted his champagne glass from his hands and took a sip, her lips touching the same spot his had moments before.

The gesture was unmistakably possessive. Unmistakably intimate.

I clutched my chest, the sight of my mate being so close with another woman sending a sharp, unbearable ache through my heart.

She's marking her territory, my wolf snarled. Right in front of everyone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Owen's voice boomed across the hall as he took the podium. "Welcome to the annual Blackthorne Foundation Awards Ceremony."

I forced myself to move, finding an empty seat near the back as Owen continued his opening remarks.

"This year's recipients represent the finest young minds in supernatural medicine," Owen announced. "Each has shown exceptional promise."

Dr. Lunaris had once treated me for depression. It was a darkness that clung to me for years after my parents died. He’d warned that nurturing positive emotions was vital for a wolf’s wellbeing. Stay calm, I told myself. Just get through this.

Dorian and Seraphina stepped forward together to present the first award.

Look at them, my wolf whispered venomously. See how she touches his arm? How he smiles at her?

The sight triggered something deeper than jealousy. These people had destroyed my family. Seraphina's father had been the first to abandon my parents when they needed support most. When their deaths were dismissed as "accidents," he'd been the loudest voice pushing for the beta's immediate ascension to power, blocking any investigation into what really happened.

And Seraphina's mother had caused a scandal that rocked three different packs. Her affair with another Alpha had resulted in that male's mate's mysterious death. The whispers still followed their family: unfaithful, untrustworthy, willing to destroy anyone for power.

And yet, over a decade later, the world seemed to have forgotten it all. Seraphina was celebrated simply because she was Dorian’s fated mate, and the Crimsons were respected solely for the strength of their wealth.

Now here was their daughter, wrapped around my mate like she belonged there.

"Lyra Nightfall," Owen's voice cut through my churning thoughts. "Recipient of the Advanced Medical Research Scholarship."

Applause filled the hall as I rose on unsteady legs.

Dorian stood ready with the official certificate, his expression carefully neutral. Beside him, Seraphina held the traditional silver medallion that accompanied the award.

Just take it and go, I told myself. Don't look at them. Don't think about what they represent.

But as I reached the center of the stage, Seraphina stepped forward with that practiced smile. She reached for my hand to place the medallion and whispered first: "How lovely to see you've finally found attire that truly suits you. A servant's uniform fits you so perfectly - one might think you were born to wear it."

My cheeks burned with humiliation.

Dorian's jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing.

Emboldened by his lack of response, Seraphina leaned closer, her next words barely audible but devastatingly clear: "Notice it? He smells like me."

My wolf's sharp senses picked it up instantly. That cloying, saccharine scent of a she-wolf that didn't belong to him, and definitely didn't belong to me.

Dorian clearly heard her, but he merely frowned slightly.

The heartache exploded into something savage.

I felt myself falling before I even realized what was happening. Dorian's arms caught me and for one desperate, foolish moment, I thought he might actually care.

"Lyra?" His voice sounded distant.

But then Seraphina said: "Oh my, another one of her episodes. Always seeking attention when things didn't go her way."

The concern vanished from Dorian's voice. His arms went rigid around me.

I struggled to focus, to defend myself, but the words wouldn't come.

"Just another performance," Seraphina continued sadly. "Some wolves never outgrow their need for drama."

I felt Dorian's hands release me. Not gently lowering me to safety but pushing me away. I hit the stage floor hard, the polished wood cold against my palms as I struggled to orient myself.

The murmur from the audience grew louder. Concerned voices, confused voices, judgmental voices all blending together.

"Dorian," I whispered, looking up at him. "Please..."

Then Seraphina gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Oh... I... I can't breathe..." She swayed gracefully, one hand reaching for Dorian's support.

His attention snapped to her immediately. Without another glance at me, he swept Seraphina into his arms, carrying her toward the stage exit as medical personnel rushed forward.

"Give her space," someone called. "Get the doctor."

But they weren't talking about me. I sat alone on the polished stage floor, surrounded by whispers and stares, watching my mate disappear with another woman in his arms.

They think we're the liar, my wolf whimpered. They think we're the one seeking attention.

The ceremonial lights blazed down on me like an interrogation. The audience's faces blurred together, some concerned, some suspicious, all of them judging.

I was utterly, completely alone.