The Lycan Don's Unclaimed Mate

Chapter 5: The Threads We Pull

Cornelia Point of View

The silence in the penthouse felt different after midnight. During the day it was the heavy and suffocating but at night, it felt like an arena.

I stood by the glass window in the private library of the west wing, watching the rain drop across the skyline of Upstate New York. The black blouse Dante's tailors had provided was too loose around the shoulders, but the leather holster strapped under my left arm was snug. My silver blade sat against my ribs, a cold reminder of who I was, no matter how many fifty million dollar contracts I signed.

Behind me, the door clicked open but I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. The scent of rain, cold air, and coffee filled the room a second before his footsteps hit the hardwood floor.

"You're awake," Dante said. His voice was a low, smooth rasp, stripped of the booming Alpha force he'd used to crack wood in the Council chamber four hours earlier.

"I don't sleep well in golden cages," I replied, watching his reflection in the dark glass.

He had taken off his suit jacket. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up past his forearms, showing the dark, detailed black ink tattoos creeping up his wrists, old Lycan symbols of authority and bloodline. He carried two short crystal glasses, the amber liquid inside swirling gently.

He stopped two steps behind me, close enough that the heat coming off his chest warmed the cool air on the back of my neck.

"It's rye," he said, holding one glass out past my shoulder. "Not poisoned. I know how carefully executioners check what goes into their bodies."

I turned slowly, looking down at the glass before meeting his eyes. His gold pupils were dimmer now, settled into a warm, molten amber that felt far too personal for a man who ran half the city's criminal underworld.

I took the glass, making sure our fingers didn't touch.

Dante noticed the deliberate distance. A faint, dark smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he took a slow sip of his drink.

"You handled Vince Laurent like you've been sitting at Council tables your whole life," he said quietly, leaning his shoulder against the window frame, his dark gaze locked onto mine. "Most humans choke on the air when an Alpha lets his presence out. You didn't even blink."

"My father made me stand in front of rogue wolves when I was twelve," I said coldly, swirling the rye in my glass. "Alpha presence is just aggressive posturing wrapped in wolf genetics. It only works if you let yourself feel small."

"Is that what you think it is?" Dante asked, his voice dropping lower. He set his glass down on a nearby wooden side table and took a step toward me.

The space between us disappeared.

"Don't," I warned, holding my ground, refusing to back up against the glass.

"You signed a contract to be my fiancée for six months, Cornelia," Dante said softly, stopping just inches away. He reached up, his large, rough hand hovering in the narrow gap between us. "The Five Families are watching every move we make. If Vince thinks this is just a business arrangement, he'll strike. We have to play the part."

"There are no cameras in this library, Don Draxus," I countered, my breath catching as his heat washed over me. "We don't need to play anything in the dark."

"Then explain this," he whispered.

His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin just below my ear, tracing down the line of my neck to the pressure point at my collarbone.

The moment his skin touched mine, a blinding spark of electricity shot through my blood. My vein beating against his fingertips like a trapped bird. The dark heat of the bond got so strong that it made my knees threaten to buckle. My breath caught in my throat, my lips parting on instinct as the intense, dizzying pull rushed to my head.

I hated how instantly my body responded to him. I hated that a man I had known for less than twenty four hours could shake my entire nervous system with a bare touch.

Dante didn't pull away. His thumb pressed gently against my racing artery, his eyes darkening to a deep, dangerous gold as he watched my reaction. He saw the shift. He felt the current between us.

"That isn't human, Cornelia," he rasped, his head dipping lower, his lips hovering near my jaw. "A human body rejects a Lycan's frequency. It breaks under it. But you, you take in my power like you were made for it."

"My father taught me," I started, my voice breathy, failing me for the first time.

"Your father didn't teach your blood how to sing when I touch you," Dante cut in softly, his chest rising against mine as he took a deep breath of my scent, rose, rain, and wild hibiscus. "Your father gave you weapons. But whoever gave you your blood gave you to me."

My mind raced. What was he saying? My father was a regular human executioner. My mother died when I was an infant, a soft spoken human woman from upstate, according to the few thin records left in our family vault.

I pressed my left palm against his chest, pushing against the wall of his muscle. "I am human," I barked, forcing my voice steady despite the fire burning under my skin. "And I am not yours. I am a fifty million dollar contract!"

Dante didn't budge under my push, but he let out a low, rumbling laugh, a sound full of possessive, dangerous amusement.

"Fifty million dollars," he repeated, his thumb lightly tracing the side of my jaw one last time before he finally stepped back, giving me room to breathe. "A cheap price for six months with a woman who puts a knife to my throat every time I say goodnight."

"Keep testing me, Draxus," I said, stepping past him toward the library door, my heart still pounding a hard rhythm against my ribs. "And you'll find out just how expensive I can get."

I reached the doorway and paused, looking back over my shoulder.

Dante was standing by the glass, watching me in the dim light, his amber eyes burning with an unshakable, patient calm. He wasn't acting like a man who had bought collateral. He was acting like a man waiting for me to realize a trap had already closed around me.

"Sleep well, little wolf," he said quietly into the room."