I stormed out of the council chamber, the heavy oak door slamming behind me with a boom that echoed through the stone corridors of the old pack house. My blood roared in my ears, hotter than any shift I’d ever felt. Darien’s words still hung in the air I’d left behind, spoken low and steady right in front of me, but not loud enough for the elders scattered at the far end of the room to catch every syllable.
He’d waited until most of the council had stepped out for their break, thinking we were alone. Then he’d leaned across the ancient table, voice pitched only for my ears, and made his offer: he would help me take back the Alpha throne that had been stolen from my bloodline the night my parents were murdered—if I didn’t reject the mate bond. If I gave him a real chance.
The disgust hit
