The Alpha's Forbidden Coyote Mate

Chapter Four

I wake to the sound of what can only be described as a beaver gnawing at a tree outside. There’s also a buzzing in my skull, like a swarm of bees trapped inside my head. My mouth feels stuffed with cotton and dry sand. To top it off, I’m freezing. Shivers ripple through me until I pull up the blanket someone placed over me.

Wait. Someone placed a blanket over me.

Breathless, I bolt upright—out of a California king‑sized bed that definitely isn’t mine. My pulse spikes when I realize I’m wearing a nightie. Cream‑rose silk, barely grazing my knees. My skin tingles against the fabric, every nerve alive. Okay. Now I’m really freaking out.

My stomach churns as I scan the room. Ocean‑blue walls trimmed in gold. A marble fireplace flickers with light. Vintage furniture scattered with taste: two chairs, a table, an antique chest. The chest draws me in—maybe it holds clues. I reach for it, only to bite back a scream when the copper edges sear my fingers. Pain shoots up my hand. I hate copper.

A strangled sound escapes me just as the blue wall slides open. A hidden door.

And through it steps Phantom. The man whose presence still lingers in my veins. His sapphire eyes lock onto me, and the air shifts, charged, like the room itself bends toward him. He’s followed by an older woman with silver curls tied in a chignon, wire‑rimmed glasses sliding down her nose, a tray of food balanced in her hands.

Ignoring the sting of copper, I stride toward him with a smile. He looks startled, then amused—until I grab him by the neck and slam him against the wall. His chuckle vibrates through me, infuriatingly calm, like he’s savoring the fight.

The older woman doesn’t even flinch. “Where would you like me to set your breakfast?” she asks, as if I haven’t just assaulted royalty.

Distracted, I lose my footing. Phantom seizes the moment, spinning me around and pinning me against the wall. His grip is iron, his body heat pressing directly into mine. My pulse stutters, traitorous, as his chest molds against me.

“I’m not wearing my own clothes.”

His chuckle is low, breathy, smelling faintly of coffee. It slides under my skin, igniting sparks. “Play nice, or I’ll keep you in this position for at least the next hour. For the record, I didn’t touch you—unless you count this.” His fingers trail across my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Martha,” he nods to the woman, “helped you into your nightgown. And I have to say, the old coot has amazing taste.”

My heart races as his eyes roam over the silk clinging to me. Heat floods my face. “I’m not your type, huh?”

I scoff, but the sound is weak, betraying me. His grin deepens, predatory. I struggle against his grip, failing miserably.

“Martha,” Phantom says, eyes never leaving mine, “set the tray on the table and leave us.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” She obeys, fighting back a smile.

“Now, where were we?” His breath brushes my lips, warm enough to make me lean in before I catch myself. I freeze, horrified at how close I am to kissing a stranger. A stranger I’m not supposed to want. Lies. I want him. Too much.

“So,” I croak, desperate to distract myself, “if you didn’t drug me, why is my head still spinning?”

“Maybe because you’re swooning over me?” His arrogance is infuriating, but the way his voice dips makes my stomach flip.

“Seriously, how massive is your ego?”

He shrugs, grinning. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

I sigh. “What I meant was, why do I feel drugged?”

He finally releases me, though his presence doesn’t. “Do you not remember taking double shots of Edge with your little wolf friend?”

My stomach drops. “Al! We missed training! Where is she?”

“She bailed. Wolves take care of wolves. She left with some guy just before you passed out.”

Wait, she left me? Shock twists in my chest. I shake it off quickly. “You can’t speak for every wolf. People are horrible because they are, not because of their lineage.”

His eyes narrow, studying me like I’m a puzzle he wants to solve. “Who are you?” His voice is softer now, almost reverent.

Reluctantly, I answer. “Maryelle.” I extend my hand.

“Maryelle,” he breathes, and the sound of my name on his lips melts me. “You’re not from here, are you?”

I shake my head no.

“Well, Maryelle, you shouldn’t offer me your hand—I may not give it back.”

I try to pull it away, but he catches it midair. His lips graze the back of my hand, lingering, making their way to each finger, sending jolts through me. “I’m Phantom.” He interlocks our fingers, staring at them like they’re sacred. His body heat radiates against mine, and for once, I don’t want to move.

I’ve never felt this comfortable around someone I’m so dangerously attracted to. His name even sounds like magic. Phantom. Phantom. Phantom. Okay. I need psychiatric help.

I clear my throat. “What is Edge?”

“An herbal concoction laced with copper. Created by a werewolf who thought small doses would build immunity. Now it’s a recreational drink. Most Edge abusers die from overdose.”

My stomach twists. “I guess I should’ve listened to you.”

“I’m not into I‑told‑you‑so. And I’m not letting anything happen to you. One of the healers will check you out before you leave.” His fingers toy with mine, sending sparks up my arm. It feels like sun and breeze colliding—comfort and thrill all at once.

His gaze drops to my lips. The air between us tightens, magnetic. I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly his mouth is on mine. The lips are warm, consuming, a rush of fire and electricity that makes my knees weak. For a heartbeat, I forget everything—copper, Edge, wolves, even my own name. There’s only Phantom.

The sliding door bursts open. I yank my hand away, breathless, lips tingling, mortified.

Gaston. Relief floods me, tangled with frustration.

“I’ve never felt such relief to find someone alive. Are you okay?” he asks, scanning me.

Phantom reluctantly steps back, his eyes still burning into mine. “What are you doing in my house?” His voice drips venom, his glare locked on Gaston.

“I came to get my trainee,” Gaston replies smoothly. “Hey, you okay? I was worried.” He rubs my arm, smirking at Phantom’s fury. Then he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My pulse spikes, betraying me again. Both of them hear it.

I smack his hand away, mortified. “Where’s the bathroom?” I squeak, too irritated to meet either of their eyes.

What is wrong with me? I swore I wouldn’t feel anything for anyone after my ex Jared broke me. Yet here I am, breathless over two strangers. That drink has to be messing with my head. I am usually not a floozy.

Mortified, I rush in the direction Phantom points, desperate to escape them both.