Chapter 4: Graves and Bad Kisses

The connecting door between my quarters and Benedict's might as well have been paper. I could feel him on the other side, that low thrum making the scar on my collarbone itch like a fresh brand. Midnight with Elias still loomed, but first I needed answers the archives wouldn't give. Or maybe I just wanted to watch the alpha squirm after that council mess.

I didn't knock. The handle turned under my palm, unlocked like an invitation or a trap. His study smelled of leather, ink, and that damn cedar rain that used to turn my knees to water. Benedict sat behind the massive oak desk, shirt sleeves rolled up, signet ring spinning between his fingers while he glared at a stack of reports.

He didn't look up right away. Typical. But his shoulders tightened, the muscle in his jaw ticking like it had opinions. The mate bond gave a vicious tug behind my ribs. Not exactly pain. More like my body still hadn't gotten the memo about hating him.

"Come to gloat about your little performance in council?" His voice rolled out deep and clipped, the kind that used to command my full attention. Now it just annoyed me. Mostly.

I crossed to the desk, hips swaying more than necessary because screw him. My fingers trailed over a polished obsidian paperweight while one of my sharp little talismans stayed tucked in my sleeve. "I'm here about your dead wife. And whatever the hell you left in my room that smells like old moon rituals. Pick one."

That got his attention. Those ice-blue eyes snapped up, darkening as they locked on mine. The bond flared hot, sending a flush across my collarbone. I traced the mating scar without thinking, the ridge warm under my nail. His gaze followed the motion and something raw flickered across his face before he shut it down.

"The moonstone was a mistake." He straightened the corner of the top report with precise movements, that obsessive neatness kicking in. "Shouldn't have left it where you could find it. But you already knew that, didn't you? Elias has been feeding you poison."

I laughed, short and bitter. The sound bounced off the bookshelves lined with ancient tomes on pack law and blood rites. "Poison tastes better than your rejection speech. Remember that? Telling the whole council an omega like me would weaken the line."

His fingers stilled on the papers. The ring spun once more, faster this time. I caught the shift in his scent, that alpha edge sharpening into something that smelled a lot like regret. Good. Let it cut him. But the bond didn't care about old wounds. It yanked me a half-step closer, making my breath come quicker and my skin prickle with how near he stood. Six-four of corded muscle and barely leashed control.

Benedict pushed back from the desk and rose in that fluid way that owned every room without effort. "You think I enjoyed it?" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Watching you walk away with your chin high while I felt like I'd carved out my own heart?"

The words hit harder than I expected. My scar burned. My next inhale caught in my throat. I took that involuntary half-step forward before I could stop myself, fingers curling tight around the edge of his desk.

"I rejected you because the bond already owned me, Yara." He didn't move, but his fingers flexed at his sides like they itched to reach for me. "Five years ago you looked at me like I was everything. It terrified me. An alpha can't afford to be that weak."

I wanted to snap back with something cutting. Instead my pulse hammered so hard I felt it in my teeth. This wasn't the polished confession I'd braced for. It was messy and jagged and far too close to the crack I'd felt forming since the council chamber. The gold flickered at the edges of my vision, that sweet corruption whispering how easy it would be to make him kneel.

I stepped around the desk until I could see the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes. The five-o'clock shadow looked rougher up close, like sleep had become optional since I returned. "Weak," I echoed, tasting the word. "You discarded me to protect your precious control. Now I'm back with power that scares your precious elders, and suddenly you want to play protector?"

His hand shot out, not grabbing, just hovering near my arm like he fought the urge. The air between us crackled. My chest ached with the pull, a deep tug that made my skin feel too tight. I hated how my body remembered his mouth on my neck under that long-ago full moon, the way heat had pooled low and urgent.

"Protect you from what you are," he said, the words grinding out. His eyes dropped to my lips, dark with something that wasn't just guilt. "That gold in your veins? It's changing you. I saw it in council. The way it twisted with the bond."

The tension snapped. I surged up on my toes and crashed my mouth against his. It wasn't romantic. It was teeth and five years of resentment, his stubble scraping my chin, my fingers fisting in his shirt until a button pinged off somewhere. The bond sang through my blood, hot and vicious.

Benedict groaned into the kiss. One big hand finally gave in and gripped my hip, pulling me flush against him. The solid heat of his body, the way he took control even while losing it, sent a shiver racing down my spine. For one humiliating second I melted, the crack in my armor splitting wider. This was the man who'd seen me at my weakest and still made me feel seen. My eyes stung.

Then reality slammed back in. I shoved him away, breathing hard. My lips felt swollen. The taste of him lingered, mint and something darker. "That was a mistake," I whispered, echoing his earlier words. My voice cracked on the last syllable.

He looked as wrecked as I felt, chest heaving, blue eyes almost black. His fingers flexed at his sides like they missed holding me. "Yara..."

I cut him off by pulling the ritual blade from my sleeve. The small, sharp thing caught the lamplight, its edge humming with the faint gold of my blood rites. "This is what five years bought me, Benedict. Enough power to sever our bond for good. One rite, one cut, and you're free of this... whatever it is."

His face paled. Not with fear. Something deeper, like I'd punched straight through the alpha armor to the self-loathing underneath. He reached for the blade but stopped short, spinning that signet ring instead. The neat stack of reports suddenly seemed very important as he straightened them with jerky movements.

"You think ending us ends the pain?" His laugh came out hollow. "I carry you every day. The guilt. The way your scent still hits me in dreams. My wife knew it too. That's why she..."

He stopped, jaw locking so tight I heard the click. The wife's death. Elias's midnight meeting. All of it pressed in, but the bond made it hard to focus. My skin felt flushed and aware of every inch between us. I wanted to hate him cleanly. Instead I felt the terrifying thrill of watching his legendary control crack because of me. It should have felt like victory. It felt like standing on a ledge with the wind at my back.

"Tell me what happened to her," I demanded. The blade stayed between us, a talisman against the pull. "Or I'll find out from Elias and make sure the whole council hears it."

Benedict's expression shuttered, but not before I caught the flash of raw fear. Not for himself. For me. His hand lifted like he might touch my face, then dropped. The study felt smaller, the mist from the forests outside pressing against the windows like it wanted in.

Before he could answer, glass shattered somewhere below us. The sound of snarling wolves cut through the night, too close. Not a full attack. This felt targeted. I felt it in the way the bond spiked with protective fury from his side.

"Stay here," he growled, already moving toward the balcony doors.

Like hell. I followed, blade still in hand, the gold under my skin surging with the chaos. We burst onto the shared balcony. The cool Pacific Northwest air slapped our faces. Below in the gardens, three wolves I didn't recognize were dragging something small and struggling from the shadows. A stray cat. The scrawny tabby with the notched ear that I'd been leaving food for near the council walls.

My stomach dropped. Someone knew my weakness, the tiny rebellion I'd kept secret even from myself. The cat yowled. The corruption inside me answered without permission, golden threads shooting from my fingers before I could stop them.

The nearest attacker yelped, shifting back to human form in a painful twist of bone and fur. But the power didn't stop. It arced toward the cat. The tabby convulsed, eyes flashing the same tainted gold as mine. Claws elongated. Fur darkened to something oily and wrong.

Horror clawed up my throat. This wasn't strength. This was exactly what my mentor had warned about, the kind that started sweet and ended in monsters. The corrupted creature turned on its attackers with a screech that didn't sound animal anymore.

Benedict grabbed my arm, grip firm but not bruising. His scent enveloped me, grounding even as my pulse raced. The bond throbbed between us, mixing the terror with that unwanted heat, making my skin burn where he touched.

His voice came low against my ear, rough with five years of buried regret. "This is what I was trying to protect you from."

The words sank in sharp as my ritual blade while the monstrous cat tore into the remaining wolves below. I wanted to pull away, to deny it, but the vulnerability hit like a wave. My revenge suddenly felt fragile, my armor cracking wider than before. And worst of all, part of me leaned into his hold, desperate for the only man who could both ruin and complete me.

What the hell had my power just done? And how much more of me would it claim before this was over?