The Alpha's Rejected Heir

Chapter 6 Dancing with the Wolf

The gala was suffocatingly extravagant. The Great Hall of the museum was filled with New York’s elite, sipping champagne and gossiping.

I arrived at 8:15 PM. I wanted him to wait.

I wore an emerald green silk gown that hugged every curve of my body and had a slit up to my thigh. It was a dress designed to distract. If he was looking at my legs, maybe he wouldn't look at the fear in my eyes.

I spotted him immediately. It was impossible not to. He stood near a statue of a Greek god, looking like a deity himself in a black tuxedo. He held a glass of whiskey, his gaze boring a hole through the crowd until it landed on me.

The air shifted. Even the humans seemed to instinctively part ways as he walked toward me.

"You're late," Damien said, his voice a low rumble.

"I had to say goodnight to my son," I replied coolly. "Traffic was murder."

"You look..." He paused, his eyes traveling down my body and back up, darkening with heat. "Stunning. Green was always your color."

I stiffened. "You didn't know me well enough to know my favorite color, Mr. Blackwood."

"Didn't I?" He offered me his arm. "Shall we dance?"

I wanted to say no. Every instinct screamed run. But causing a scene with my biggest investor in front of the press was suicide for my company.

I placed my hand on his arm. His muscles were rock hard beneath the expensive fabric.

He led me to the dance floor. He placed one hand on my waist, pulling me flush against him. The contact was electric. My wolf howled, clawing at the cage in my mind, begging to be let out. Mate. Mate. Mate.

"You’re trembling," Damien murmured, spinning me slowly.

"I’m cold," I lied.

"Liar," he whispered. "You feel it too. The electricity. The pull."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I hissed, trying to pull back, but his grip was iron.

"Tell me, Clara," he said, his tone suddenly serious. "Why did you leave the Shadow Moon Pack?"

I missed a step. I looked up at him, shock written on my face. "I... how did you..."

"I did some digging after I left your office yesterday," Damien said calmly. "There was a Clara in that pack. An Omega. She disappeared five years ago. Presumed dead."

"I am Clara Vance," I insisted, my voice trembling. "I am human."

"Are you?" Damien challenged. "Then why do you smell like rain and vanilla? Why does my wolf want to tear this building apart just to claim you?"

He leaned his forehead against mine. We were causing a scene now, but he didn't care.

"I rejected her," he confessed, his voice thick with a pain I didn't expect. "I was young. Arrogant. I thought power was everything. I rejected my mate because she was an Omega."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Hearing him admit it... it tore open the old wound.

"And now?" I whispered, unable to stop myself.

"Now," Damien said, his blue eyes searching mine, "I realize it was the biggest mistake of my life. I’ve been looking for her. To apologize. To beg."

For a second, just a second, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to tell him everything. About Leo. About the years of struggle.

But then I remembered the look in his eyes five years ago. The disgust.

“I, Damien Blackwood, reject you, Clara, as my mate.”

I pulled away from him, breaking the contact. The loss of warmth was physically painful.

"That sounds like a tragic story, Mr. Blackwood," I said, my voice hardening into steel. "But you’re projecting your guilt onto me. I’m not your dead Omega. I’m just a woman trying to run a business."

I turned on my heel. "Excuse me. I have to use the ladies' room."

I walked away as fast as I could without running. I needed air. I needed to get out of here.

I rushed through the crowd, heading for the exit. I had to get home to Leo. We had to leave New York. Tonight.

As I pushed through the heavy museum doors into the cool night air, my phone buzzed.

It was Sarah.

"Clara, where are you?" Sarah’s voice was high-pitched, panicked.

"I'm leaving the gala now. Why? Is Leo okay?"

"Clara, someone is here," Sarah sobbed. "At your apartment. Men in suits. They’re knocking on the door. They say they’re security sent by Mr. Blackwood to 'protect' the child."

My phone almost slipped from my hand.

He wasn't just investigating me. He had found my home.

"Don't open the door!" I screamed, running toward the valet stand. "Sarah, do not open that door! I'm coming!"

I hung up and scrambled into my car.

Damien hadn't just been dancing with me. He had been distracting me.

While he was whispering apologies in my ear, he had sent his pack to capture my son.