Amber's POV:

Today was meant to be the day my destined mate and I got engaged. Instead, I'm standing here, watching him kiss another woman. Marrying her could secure his future as Alpha—after all, she's the daughter of Theodore Blackwood, the most influential Lycan chairman in the world.

Just a couple of months ago, our Alpha fell in battle, leaving the position open for the strongest contender. Now, every candidate is fighting for that role, including my mate, Eric.

Everyone knows the Lycans hold power over the werewolves. And Theodore? He has the authority to appoint anyone as the new Alpha with a single word.

Eric made his choice—her, not me.

“Whiskey for me and a martini for the lady,” a deep voice came from nearby. “So, is it the future bride or the future groom that's got you in a mood?”

“I'm just not a fan of parties,” I replied, deciding not to reveal the real reason.

“Neither am I,” he murmured. “I'm only here because I have to be.”

The bartender slid my drink in front of me, and I took a sip right away, sighing as the alcohol started to dull the ache inside me.

Each time Eric kissed her, it felt like another dagger to my heart. How had my life unraveled like this? How could my fated mate betray me so easily? Did our two years together mean nothing to him? Did the mark on my neck hold no significance at all?

“Thanks for the drink,” I told the stranger.

I took one last sip of my martini and moved to step off the barstool, but my blouse caught on the edge of the counter. The sound of fabric tearing reached my ears just as I lost my balance, and I braced myself for the inevitable fall.

Except... it never came.

Strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me effortlessly. My breath hitched as I looked up at the man who had caught me. He was breathtakingly handsome. He held me as if I weighed nothing, his muscles firm beneath my touch. When he smiled, a dimple appeared on his right cheek—one I suddenly had the irrational urge to kiss.

“Madam, are you falling for me?” he teased.

I narrowed my eyes at him, catching onto his wordplay. “You think you're funny, don't you?”

His grin widened, but then his gaze dropped to my torn blouse, and his expression darkened. “Let me take you to my suite upstairs,” he said, making my heart stutter.

“What?” I barely managed to whisper.

His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Goddess, he was sinfully gorgeous.

“Your shirt is ripped. I have one you can wear in my VIP suite,” he explained.

I blinked, then let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh… right. Thank you.”

He turned to the bartender. “Put our drinks on my tab.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without hesitation, I allowed him to carry me out of the room. His warmth was comforting, and before I knew it, I was resting my head against his broad chest, inhaling his crisp, minty scent. My wolf, who had been wallowing in sorrow all evening, suddenly stirred with interest, momentarily forgetting the pain of our broken bond.

Once inside the suite, he set me down and walked toward the closet. “Take off your shirt,” he instructed.

I squeaked. “Excuse me?”

“So you can put on a new one,” he clarified.

“Right,” I breathed.

I pulled off my torn blouse and tossed it onto the bed, leaving only my bra covering my upper body. When he finally turned around, shirt in hand, he froze. His eyes roamed over me, his expression unreadable.

I was too busy admiring him to notice at first, but as I took in his features, familiarity struck me like lightning.

I gasped, stepping back. “It's you…” I whispered.

His eyes lifted to mine, a single brow arching. “You know me?”

“I know of you,” I corrected.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he slowly closed the distance between us, his movements deliberate—predatory. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

“And what exactly do you know about me?”

“Only what I've heard…” I admitted.

“And what have you heard?”

“That you're Theodore Blackwood, the Lycan Chairman. A notorious playboy. You never keep the same woman in your bed twice.”

He arched a brow. “Is that so?” he mused. “Go on, tell me more.”

Hell. He's the father of the bride—Eric's future father-in-law? My head spun with confusion, unsure of how to react. But I supposed it wasn't surprising that I hadn't recognized him at first. Lycans weren't known for their public presence; they preferred to operate from the shadows rather than step into the limelight like werewolf Alphas.

Should I tell him who I am? No—that would be reckless.

He closed the distance between us, and instinctively, I stepped back until my spine pressed against the wall.

“What else do you want to know?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Everything.”

Maybe it was the martini, or maybe it was something else entirely, but I decided to be bold. If Eric could move on so easily, why couldn't I?

I met his gaze as he drew even closer. “Your eyes…” I murmured. “I've heard they were mesmerizing, and I have to agree.”

His lips curled slightly. “What else?” His voice was low, husky.

I swallowed hard. “When you smile, there's this dimple on your cheek…” I whispered.

He was only inches away now, his intense stare making my skin heat. When he licked his lips, my attention dropped to his mouth.

“And your lips…”

Before I could finish my sentence, his mouth crashed against mine. His kiss wasn't gentle—it was fierce, demanding, filled with hunger and possession. I matched his eagerness, parting my lips as his tongue slid in, claiming me fully.

In one swift motion, he lifted me, pressing me firmly between the wall and his solid frame. Instinct took over—I wrapped my legs around his waist, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

His lips trailed down my neck, sending a wave of warmth through me as he sucked on my skin. Any sense of logic or restraint vanished the moment he touched me. Theodore consumed me—mind, body, and soul.

I reached for his tie, desperate to remove the barrier between us. He helped me loosen it before tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

My fingers traced the hard planes of his chest, exploring every ridge of muscle. When his lips found mine again, I moaned softly into his mouth.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked between kisses.

“Yes,” I breathed. “We're both consenting adults—so why not?”

His lips were on mine again, and just as he reached for the clasp of my bra, an urgent mindlink jolted through me.

Amber! Please, come home!

My adoptive mother's voice was thick with panic—and she never panicked.