Chapter 4 The Trap

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"I get that a lot," I said, purposely lowering my voice. "Your mother and I use the same soap."

He blinked at the ambiguity of the insult. The grip slackened a little.

There was no time to lose. I drove my heel into his instep, brought the champagne tray down on his chest, the glass exploding.

He roared.

I disappeared into the crowd before the blink of an eye could pass.

I knew my way around this mansion like the back of my hand. I had cleaned the house for years. I moved like a blurred shadow through the servants' corridors. My destination was the East Wing-Kael's private apartments. The Moon Flower grew in the glass atrium that was part of his bedroom.

Heavy oak doors stood before me. Locked.

From my hair bun, I retrieved a lock pick. Click. Too easy.

I stepped into the darkness and eased the door shut. His scent remained. That fragrance: sandalwood and rain, came to me with a visceral force and a slew of memories I didn't want to remember. The bed where he had rejected me; the balcony where his mother had shot at me.

Focus. I honed in.

I rushed toward the glass atrium doors. There, glowing in the moonlight, was the flower. A single bloom—iridescent blue: the cure.

I opened the glass cabinet with trembling hands. I snapped the stem.

"Got you," I whispered.

I wrapped the flower in cloth and shoved it into my pocket. I turned to leave.

Click.

That was the sound of the main bedroom door being locked.

I froze.

It was dark, and from its corner, a shadow detached itself. The shadow of a massive, looming figure.

Alpha Kael.

He was out of uniform, in slacks and a white shirt with the top button undone, whisky glass in one hand. He hadn't just entered.

He had been waiting.

"I knew I could smell a rat," Kael said, low and vibrating with danger. "What I did not expect was a rat so... bold."

He stepped forward, and I stepped back, my hand subconsciously going to the knife strapped to my thigh.

"Who are you?" I said, feigning a panic-the kind that fit my facade of a mere servant. "I—I got lost."

"Drop the act," Kael growled, setting the glass down. "You did not get lost. You picked a biometric lock that requires Alpha clearance. You bypassed three guard patrols. You are, my dear, a thief."

He moved faster than I could track. In a blink, he stood before me, gripping my wrist and pinning it behind my back, slamming me against the wall.

"Argh!" I gasped.

He pressed himself against me. Hard. Dominating.

"Now tell me, what did you take?" He leaned closer, his nose brushing along my neck, breathing deep. "You smell... like the Rust District. Like oil and cheap soap. But underneath that..."

He paused. His body stiffened.

Once more he inhaled, right at the pulse point of my throat.

"Vanilla," he whispered. "And fear."

He pulled back enough to meet my gaze. The platinum hair had fooled him. The scar had fooled him. But the scent?

"Who are you?" he asked with a narrowed gaze.

"No one," I spat. "Just a thief. Let me go or I will scream."

"Scream," he taunted, a dark smirk curling his lips. "This is soundproof wing. No one is coming to save you."

He reached down and tore the pocket of my trousers, letting the Moon Flower fall to the floor.

"Stealing from the Alpha," he tutted. "The punishment for that is death."

He kicked it aside, crushing one exquisite petal.

"No!" I cried, struggling against him. "Please! Let me have it!"

"Why?" His grip tightened. "Why would a thief risk death for a flower?"

I could never tell him. If I told him it was for his son, he would never let Leo go.

"I have a buyer," I lied. "Just business."

"Business," Kael echoed. "Very well then. Let's do business."

Using his weight to pin me, his knee parted my legs. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, igniting the mating heat I thought had long since died three years ago.

He leaned down, inches away from my lips.

"You have stolen from me. You owe me a debt."

His finger traced down my cheek, to my lips. His eyes drilled into mine, dark with a rage mixed with lust and suspicion.

"You cannot pay me with money," he whispered. "So, you will pay with this."

His hand closed around my throat.

"You are not leaving this room, little thief," he vowed. "Not until I am satisfied."