The electricity of Rhys's kiss stunned me to my core. His lips moved against mine with practiced skill, sending shockwaves through my body that I'd never experienced before. When I tried pushing him away, his strong hands captured my wrists, pinning them against the wall behind me.
Breaking the kiss abruptly, he stared at me through the darkness with confusion etched across his features. "Why do your lips feel so... virginal?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. "Are you playing hard to get with me now?"
My mouth opened but no words came out. My heart hammered against my ribcage as I struggled to find my voice. Before I could speak, he buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply.
"Your scent is so fucking alluring tonight," he murmured against my skin. "But I need you to understand—this is just for one night."
A cold realization washed over me. He still thought I was someone else—one of "those girls" who regularly warmed his bed. I wasn't Elara to him but just another conquest.
When his lips found my neck again, sucking and kissing the sensitive skin there, an involuntary moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.
"Don't moan like that again," he warned, his voice dangerously low. "Or I won't be responsible for what happens next."
My body betrayed me, responding to his touch despite my mind's protests. His hands traveled down my sides, searching for something in my coat.
"Where's the rope?" he muttered, confusing me further.
I blinked, trying to process his words. Rope? What was he talking about?
The sharp ring of a phone cut through our encounter. Rhys cursed under his breath, pulling away slightly to check the caller ID.
"Julian Mercer," he muttered. "Always with the bad timing."
He released my wrists, stepping back enough that I could breathe again. "We'll continue this later," he promised, his voice thick with intent. Before I could respond, he turned and disappeared down the dark hallway.
My legs nearly gave out as I slumped against the wall, my fingertips rising to touch my swollen lips in disbelief. My first kiss—stolen by a man who didn't even know it was me, who thought I was someone else entirely.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, jolting me back to reality. With trembling hands, I pulled it out to see Seraphina's name flashing on the screen.
"Hello?" I answered, fighting to keep my voice steady.
"Elara! Where are you? We've been looking everywhere!" Seraphina's worried voice came through the line.
"I got lost," I lied, pushing myself off the wall. "This house is huge."
"Stay where you are. We're coming to find you. Just tell me where you are."
I glanced around, trying to orient myself in the dim lighting. "I'm in a hallway near the back of the house. I'll start walking toward the main room."
"Okay, we're coming," she promised before hanging up.
I quickly found my glasses that had somehow fallen during Rhys's assault on my senses and slipped them back on just as Seraphina and Liam rounded the corner, relief evident on their faces.
"There you are!" Seraphina exclaimed, rushing toward me. "We were worried sick!"
Liam's eyes narrowed as he studied me. "Are you okay? You look... different."
I forced a smile, hoping the dim lighting concealed my flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. "I'm fine. Just tired. I want to go home."
"Of course," Liam said immediately. "My driver's outside. I'll have him take you home."
"You're leaving already?" Seraphina pouted. "The party's just getting started."
"I've had enough excitement for one night," I said truthfully. The weight of what had just happened was starting to sink in, and I needed to be alone to process it.
"I'll walk you out," Liam offered, placing a gentle hand on my lower back—so different from Rhys's possessive grip.
As we made our way through the crowded house, I kept my head down, terrified of running into Rhys again. What would he do if he saw me? Would he connect the dots and realize I was the girl he'd kissed in the dark? The thought made my stomach twist with anxiety.
The cool night air was a relief after the stifling heat of the party. Liam guided me toward a sleek black car waiting at the curb.
"Text me when you get home," he said, his eyes full of concern. "I'll probably leave soon too. These parties aren't really my scene."
"Thank you," I murmured, genuinely touched by his kindness.
Just as Liam's driver opened the car door for me, movement near the front of the house caught my attention. I looked up—and instantly wished I hadn't.
There, illuminated by the porch light, stood Rhys with Lyra pressed against him. Their bodies were intertwined, his hands tangled in her long hair as he kissed her with the same passion he'd shown me minutes earlier. Her leg was hitched around his waist, his hand gripping her thigh as they devoured each other.
The air left my lungs as if I'd been punched. It hadn't meant anything to him—not even enough to keep him from immediately seeking out someone else.
"Elara?" Liam's voice sounded distant despite his proximity. "Are you okay?"
I tore my gaze away from the scene, blinking rapidly as tears threatened to spill. "I'm fine," I lied, sliding into the car. "Just tired."
Liam didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "Get some rest. I'll check on you tomorrow."
As the car pulled away from the curb, I finally let the tears fall. They streamed down my face in hot rivulets, blurring my vision of the passing streetlights. I pressed my forehead against the cool window, trying to make sense of the tornado of emotions whirling inside me.
Why did it hurt so much to see Rhys with another girl? He wasn't mine. He'd made that abundantly clear with his cruelty toward me. Yet something about seeing him kiss Lyra with the same intensity he'd kissed me cut deeper than any insult he'd ever thrown my way.
And what about my own reaction to his kiss? The way my body had responded, the heat that had pooled in my belly, the electricity that had sparked between us—it terrified me. How could I physically respond to someone who treated me with such contempt?
Was this some cruel joke of fate? To make me desire the one person guaranteed to break my heart?
I removed my glasses to wipe my tears, staring unseeingly at the blur of lights outside. The smell of Rhys still clung to me—his expensive cologne mixed with something uniquely him. I hated that I found it intoxicating.
"Miss?" The driver's voice startled me from my thoughts. "We're approaching Silver Moon Pack territory. Where should I drop you?"
I gave him my address in a voice that sounded unnaturally calm considering the turmoil inside me. As we drove through the familiar streets of my neighborhood, I tried to compose myself. The last thing I needed was for my mother to see me like this.
The car pulled up outside my modest home, its windows dark. Mom was working the night shift at the pack hospital, which meant I had the house to myself—a small mercy I desperately needed tonight.
"Thank you," I told the driver as he opened my door.
"Mr. Thorne asked me to wait until you're safely inside," he replied formally.
I nodded, fumbling with my keys at the front door. Once inside, I flipped on a light and waved to the driver through the window. He nodded in acknowledgment before driving away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The silence of the empty house pressed in around me as I leaned against the closed door, finally allowing myself to crumple. Sliding down until I hit the floor, I hugged my knees to my chest and let the sobs break free.
"What is wrong with you?" I whispered to myself, rocking slightly. "Why him? Of all people, why does it have to be him?"
But I already knew the answer. The same instinct that had made me hide when I first saw him, that had sent warning signals through my body—it wasn't just fear. It was recognition. Some part of me had known, even before the incident in the cafeteria.
Rhys Knight was my mate. The one person supposedly destined to complete me, to love me unconditionally. And he despised everything I was.
I touched my lips, still sensitive from his kiss. In the darkness, when he hadn't known who I was, he'd wanted me. The moment he realized it was me, disgust had replaced desire. And minutes later, he'd been kissing another girl as if our encounter had meant nothing.
Could a mate bond be so one-sided? Was I doomed to want someone who would never want me back?
The thought was unbearable.
I pushed myself off the floor and stumbled to the bathroom, desperate to wash away the evidence of tonight. Standing before the mirror, I barely recognized myself. My lips were swollen, my eyes red-rimmed from crying, and a small mark was beginning to form on my neck where Rhys had sucked on my skin.
A mate mark. The physical evidence of our connection.
I touched it gently, wincing at both the tenderness and the wave of longing that accompanied it. Would it fade, like my hopes for a true mate who would cherish me? Or would it remain as a cruel reminder of what could never be?
As I stepped into the shower, letting hot water cascade over me, I made a resolution. I would not pine for Rhys Knight. I would not let my heart break over someone who could kiss me one moment and another girl the next. I would find a way to sever this mate bond, to free myself from this torturous connection.
Because a mate who could cause such pain wasn't a mate at all.
But as I closed my eyes, the memory of his kiss played on repeat in my mind. The way his body had felt pressed against mine. The heat of his breath on my neck. The electricity that had sparked between us.
And despite my resolution, a treacherous voice in my heart whispered: What if there's more to him than what he shows the world? What if, underneath it all, there's a version of Rhys who could love me?
With tears mixing with the shower water, I forced that voice into silence. Hope was a dangerous thing for someone like me. And Rhys Knight had shown me exactly who he was—a man who could kiss me with passion one moment and another girl the next.
My mate was a heartbreaker, and I was just his latest victim.