Why?
No one was allowed to touch him.
He was being groomed to one day become pack. To sit at Michelle’s side as the figurehead of the Wardrobe, one meant to distract her enemies. She’d said they were gearing up for a war with powerful individuals, that she needed someone trustworthy next to her.
Someone who could just as easily be discarded if it came down to it.
Fenrir knew, had always known, that even with her favoritism toward him, he was still little more than product in her mind. But did it matter when what she offered was the only chance at freedom he’d ever have?
There was no escape from the Wardrobe. If he wanted to earn his right to agency, he needed to prove his loyalty first. Had to show her that he could be trusted and would remain on her side.
Needed to—
He was at the top of a set of stairs now, coming to a halt all over again when reality managed to sneak past his feverish state.
The auction.
The Heated Hearts party.
Oberon King.
His stomach lurched and he slid to the ground, settling on the top step as he waited for the nausea to pass. At least he’d come to his senses enough to realize these weren’t symptoms of another experiment. He wasn’t eighteen and locked up.
“You’re twenty-five,” he reminded himself quietly. “You just shared your heat with an alpha for the first time.” Thoughsharedwas a stretch. “And now…” He pursed his lips and glanced around. “Now…”
Now what?
The heat was over, the contract had been completed, and Fenrir had successfully installed spyware on the King of Fairies’ multi-slate.
He was done here.
He had to go.
Michelle would be waiting for him, and the mistress hated to be left waiting.
If Fenrir didn’t want to deal with Trick locking him on level one for the next three days, he needed to get back to the estate.
The Wardrobe knew where he was. They’d sent Jose, another trusted pack member, to monitor him as soon as he’d left the auction. That was how the waitress had found him at the party, how they’d managed to slip him the heat inducer. His sense of time was messed up, but sunlight poured through the windows below, so at least he knew it was day and not night.
A car would be waiting; he just had to find it.
There was a door at the foot of the stairs, and before logic could worm its way through the disorientation, Fenrir sprang for it.
He pounded down the steps, not even trying to be quiet with his exit. The second his hand wrapped around the handle and he discovered this one, unlike the one in the bedroom, was in fact locked, he was too desperate not to anger his mistress to properly consider his options.
This close to influx, his power was already chaotic. He only meant to summon a bit, to break his way out, but instead a wave of it burst from him. Ice encased the brass knob in a flash, the metal freezing at a low enough temperature that it shattered and crumbled, pieces pinging to the ground.
He felt woozy and swayed, realizing too late that unlocking that energy was the worst possible move he could have made. Internally, it cut at his insides, shredding him like he’d swallowed millions of tiny needles. Seemingly on fire, his gaze landed on the inviting snowbanks outside.
If he could cool off, he’d be able to focus enough to figure out what was happening.
The world tilted as soon as he took a step over the threshold, but before he could reach out to catch himself, a strong arm banded around his waist, hauling him back.
Fenrir was tossed onto the floor, rolling until his back came against the side of a cream-colored velvet couch. His shoulders snapped against one of the wooden legs and he hissed, ice bursting from his hands to coat the floorboards in a frosty layer that surrounded him.
“What the hell is this?” A harsh tone drew Fenrir’s head up, and his eyes connected with Oberon’s.
He’d never heard the alpha angry or uncertain before, but it was clear the man before him currently felt both of those things. There was no reason for it, but Fenrir felt the urge to cave in on himself, to explain and soothe the alpha’s wrath. To correct it, as though this were all some big misunderstanding.