Tamed by Desire

Chapter One -The Call Before the Fall

The hum of the plane was steady. Almost soothing.

Outside, dusk bled across the sky in ribbons of crimson and ash. From the window, Adam Greyson could just make out the flickering lights of distant cities beneath the clouds. It should have been a peaceful flight home—last meeting wrapped, final reports filed, and his family waiting on the other side.

But the air felt wrong. Too still. Too quiet. Like the world was holding its breath.

A flicker on the console caught his eye—an error code flashing red. Engine Two: unstable combustion. Again. A cold knot tightened in his gut.

Adam – POV

The steward moved quickly past me. No smile this time. No casual check-in.

There was tension in her jaw, a tightness that screamed beneath her calm. A silence so heavy it pressed against my ears—only present when panic was being swallowed whole.

My fingers clenched around the armrest until the leather creaked.

Hand trembling, I reached for the satellite phone, heart pounding but voice still steady—the calm only a diplomat could summon in a storm.

“Get me my wife. Charlotte Greyson,” I said, my words clipped but urgent. “Now.”

The operator hesitated. Then, after a few agonizing seconds, the line clicked.

“…Hello?”

Her voice. Warm. Familiar. The anchor in my unraveling world.

I closed my eyes. “Lottie.”

“Adam?” she asked, a smile in her tone. “You’re calling early. What’s wrong?”

Everything.

“Love…” My voice thickened with the weight of truth. “I need you to listen. There’s a problem with the plane. Something’s… not right. The pilots aren’t saying it, but I can see it on their faces.”

There was a long silence on the other end, then a soft, shaky breath. “Adam, don’t—”

“I won’t be coming home.”

“No,” she whispered, voice cracking, as if saying it louder might undo the nightmare. “Don’t say that. Don’t—”

“Lottie,” I said, stronger now despite the fracture in my own heart. “You have to hear me. Please.”

The cabin jolted—slight at first, but unmistakable. Overhead lights flickered. Somewhere behind me, a passenger screamed, a sound that tore through the fragile calm.

My voice dropped. No diplomat now. Just a man. A husband. A father.

“Tell the kids I love them. Tell Cordelia she’s my sunshine, even on her stormy days. And the boys…” My throat caught, thick with emotion. “Tell them I’m proud of the men they’re becoming.”

“Adam…” Charlotte’s voice broke, a raw plea. “You come home to tell them yourself, do you hear me?! You come home—”

“I need you to be strong,” I whispered, fighting tears I refused to shed. “For them. For me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said at last, calm settling over me like a last breath before the end. “I love you, Lottie. I’ve always loved you.”

And then the line went dead.

Charlotte – POV

The phone slipped from my hand and clattered against the hardwood.

“No.”

Not a sob. Not a scream. Just a fractured sound—like the first crack in a dam, delicate and doomed to break.

The afternoon light blurred and burned in my eyes, too bright, too sharp. My hand pressed hard to my chest, fingers trembling as though I could hold my shattered heart in place.

It didn’t work.

“Adam?” My voice cracked and faltered into the silence. The line was dead.

My knees gave way beneath me. The rug caught me, but nothing could catch the ache that clawed its way from my chest to my throat. My breaths came in ragged bursts, sharp and shallow.

This couldn’t be happening.

It wasn’t happening.

Then the scream ripped from me without warning—raw, guttural, and inhuman. It tore through the walls, shattered the air, until pounding footsteps rushed to my side.

“Mommy?”

Cordelia stood in the doorway, eyes wide, curls tousled from her nap, a stuffed wolf dangling limply from one hand.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. My arms wrapped around my stomach, rocking as if the motion could rewind time and undo the horror.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Her voice cracked, small and frightened.

The twins, Grayslen and George, appeared behind her, faces pale and drawn. William and Richard were still at the academy, their absence leaving another hollow space in the room.

Then Penelope filled the doorway, breathless, eyes darting between me and the children.

“Adam,” I gasped, the name splintering in my mouth like broken glass. “The plane… it’s gone.”

Adam – POV

Thirty Seconds Earlier – Flight 237

The chaos had been building for minutes. The last half-minute sealed their fate.

“Altitude drop detected,” the pilot muttered into the comms. “Engine two failure confirmed. Attempting restart.”

Alarms screamed overhead. Oxygen masks dropped like pale fruit from the panels. The cabin tilted right, a slow, sickening lurch that twisted everyone’s stomach.

A flight attendant shouted orders, her voice cracking with strain.

“Jesus Christ,” the co-pilot gasped. “It’s not responding—”

Then came the second alarm.

The one no one expected.

Engine one—offline.

“Impossible,” the pilot growled. “Both engines? That’s—”

He stopped abruptly. On the main display, a red warning pulsed:

MANUAL OVERRIDE DETECTED – EXTERNAL ACCESS BREACH

“…We’ve been hacked.”

Adam’s stomach twisted into knots. One word thundered in his mind before the pilot even said it.

“Sabotage.”

Outside, a bloom of fire erupted beneath the wing. The fuselage shuddered violently. The left side tore open like paper, and freezing air screamed into the cabin. The roar swallowed every voice. Oxygen vanished in an instant, replaced by the howl of the sky.

Charlotte – POV

I had always been strong. Composed.

A woman who could host a gala, discipline four rowdy boys, and soothe a fevered child all before breakfast. But in the silence that followed Adam’s final words, that strength shattered like fragile glass.

“Adam?”

My voice had shrunk to a whisper. Fractured and fragile.

I stared at the phone.

Call ended.

“No. No. No.”

I hit redial—once, twice, three times.

Nothing but static.

My heart hammered wildly as I stood frozen in the kitchen, hands trembling uncontrollably. I grabbed the TV remote without thinking, pressing buttons until the screen flickered to life. I didn’t even know what channel I’d landed on—only that I needed something to hold onto.

The breaking-news banner burned across the bottom of the screen:

“Flight 237 from Geneva to Invercargill has gone down over the Southern Alps. No survivors confirmed at this time.”

I sank to the floor as the image shifted—grainy aerial footage, twisted metal scattered across white snow. The plane hadn’t just fallen; it had disintegrated on impact.

No survivors.

The world seemed to stop spinning.

A lump lodged in my throat, too big and raw to swallow. The phone slipped from my hand and clattered against the tiles. My wolf keened in the depths of my soul, her howl raw and endless. Tears blurred my vision… but I did not cry.

From upstairs came muffled children’s laughter—innocent, oblivious. Cordelia’s giggle floated down the hallway, bright and pure, piercing deeper than any blade. My sister-in-law Penelope must have taken them upstairs without me noticing.

A scream clawed its way up my chest, but I swallowed it down. I couldn’t fall. Not yet.

I dialled the one person who could hold me together—my best friend, my beta. The one who had followed me into this pack when I’d married Adam. My voice shook so violently on the call that Claire was at my door in less than ten minutes.

When she arrived, she found me curled on the kitchen floor, eyes wide and unblinking, staring into nothingness.

“They killed him,” I rasped, voice breaking like shattered glass. “They killed my husband.”

Claire dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around me, holding me as if I might vanish if she let go.

“Who killed him?” she asked, steady voice masking the tremor beneath. “How do you know it was them?”

My grip on her tightened, nails digging into her sleeve.

“I know,” I growled, the sound more wolf than woman. “I can feel it in my bones… in my blood. She hasn’t stopped screaming their names since the moment he was gone.”

Adam – POV

Back in the Sky – Final Moments

Smoke curled through the cabin, acrid and choking. Screams tangled with prayers. Chaos everywhere.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, steady despite the c*****e, and pushed toward the back of the plane. Inside my satchel were the documents—the ones the Alpha needed. The ones that could shake the Clan to its roots.

I slid them into a reinforced courier tube, sealing it with hands that didn’t shake, not now. Strapping it into the empty seat beside me, I made sure the harness locked. If anything survived the impact, it would be this.

Then I sank back into my seat, the roar of failing engines filling my skull. The ground was rising fast, dark and jagged through the shattered window.

I whispered one last time:

“For them.”

Impact

Flight 237 slammed into the southern ridge of the Alps at 642 km/h.

The explosion bloomed orange against the night, a second sun on the horizon. Shards of metal rained over frozen cliffs, fire hissing against snow.

No mayday.

No miracle.

Only silence.

And smoke.

Charlotte – POV

Later That Night – The Lake House

I sat on the edge of the children’s bed, brushing back Cordelia’s curls as she slept. My twin boys were curled in the bunk above—faces blotched from crying, finally at rest.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

My gaze drifted to the dark window. My reflection stared back—pale lips, hollow eyes, expressionless.

Still, no tears.

A soft knock broke the silence. Claire stood in the doorway, motioning for me to follow.

I lingered a moment, taking in the sight of my children, before rising. I knew where she would be waiting.

In my study, my beta’s expression was firm, almost unyielding.

“Your mother,” Claire began, her voice steady. “She’s found us. Her people left a note—she wants you to bring the kids, and us, back to the pack immediately. If you don’t, she’ll come herself.”

“She found us?” I gave a mirthless laugh. “No… she’s finally got her wish after twenty-two years. Let her come. I don’t need to be around her. If she insists, she can stay at the hotel in town.”

Claire nodded. “All right. I’ll make arrangements for the Mother Luna. Anything else?”

“Yes. Follow up on Adam’s belongings from the coroner… and find out what he did the day before he boarded the plane.”

“Done.” She hesitated. “Hey, Char…”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you’ll take some time for yourself—before your mum gets here.”

I met her eyes but said nothing. Claire knew me too well—better than anyone else alive.

The following morning, news came that my mother—Luna Vivian of the Shadowmoon Pack—had wasted no time. She’d boarded the family jet and flown straight to Clan Khyros.

That evening, I returned from arranging the timing for Adam’s casket to be brought to the lake house. I tried my damned hardest not to break down while making the arrangements. I hadn’t realised how much went into funerals. No one should have to go through it alone, but there I was—doing it all.

I froze in the doorway.

My husband was gone.

And deep inside, something else had broken.

Not shattered—

Locked.

Buried.

I stepped toward the window. The lake shimmered in the moonlight like a pane of glass—still, cold, unmoving. Just like me.

Inside my chest, Lira stirred.

Something’s not right, my wolf whispered, low and certain.

This isn’t just grief. This wasn’t fate. This was planned.

And I knew…

My husband hadn’t died by accident.

Adam Greyson—husband, father, and Foreign Minister to Alpha Victor Khyros Gravemantle of Clan Khyros—was gone.

The tragedy shattered the pack’s heart. Alpha Victor’s right-hand, Beta Edward, sent word that Victor had offered to host the funeral on clan grounds. I declined.

I had never formally met Alpha Victor. When I’d first arrived in the pack, I kept myself unknown—taking an unfamiliar last name before marrying Adam.

My work made it easy to stay hidden. As a widely respected architect travelling across the country, I carried many hidden talents… and a past I’d kept buried. Even from Adam.

I wanted privacy. Respect. A farewell without politics or pity. Only the few friends I trusted and my family would be allowed. I had never truly claimed Khyros as my clan—I’d only married into it.

But law was law. Tradition was older than choice. The Alpha must attend, seated front row, left side.

The four-day funeral was grueling:

Day one: family and friends.

Day two: the pack.

Day three: government officials.

Day four—reserved for me and my children—was the only day that truly mattered.

Alpha Victor was notably absent on the second and third day.

Two Days Later – The Wake

Black fabric clung to me like a second skin. I’d dropped weight—too much. Food held no appeal. I kept myself busy instead, moving like a ghost through our home, now heavy with the scent of lilies and whispers.

Our once-vibrant rooms had been transformed into a shrine of sorrow. Framed photos of Adam stood among white candles on every surface, his laugh forever frozen in time.

The boys lingered in their stiff dress clothes. William, eighteen, had retreated into silence, jaw tight, fists clenched. Richard, twenty, tried to be the man of the house, keeping the younger ones distracted and Cordelia close. Fifteen-year-old Grayslen paced the hallway like a storm trapped in glass, while his twin George sat on the bottom step, hugging his knees, eyes raw from crying.

Cordelia clutched her worn stuffed wolf, black dress swishing around her small frame. She hadn’t spoken since the news.

Watching them lit something primal inside me. My grief was violent, cold—it gave me no release, no tears. Only the ceaseless ache of absence. But for their sake, I would not collapse.

Guests trickled in, murmuring condolences, pressing tearful embraces against my unyielding frame. If my mother had given me anything, it was the ability to stand cold and composed when the world demanded it. And somewhere deep down, I knew—I would have to claim my role as heir of the Shadowmoon Pack, whether they acknowledged me or not.

Alpha Victor had sent flowers—dark red roses. The note was unsigned, but I recognised his handwriting instantly. I burned it in the fireplace, watching the flames devour the paper as rage thawed my frozen bones. Last night, a glass of Appleton whisky had been the only thing to warm me.

When I stepped into the main room and saw Adam’s casket, the breath left my body. My knees buckled.

It took both William and Claire to hold me up.

I reached out, fingers trembling, brushing the polished wood I’d chosen myself. My world had been taken from me. Not lost—taken.

I leaned closer, my voice low, almost a growl.

“They’ll pay for this.”

The fire in my eyes was no bluff. Charlotte Greyson would not stay broken.

Then I felt it.

Lira stirred inside me—slow at first, then with a jolt so sharp it stole my breath. The hairs on my neck prickled, muscles tightening in instinct.

Beneath the familiar scents of pack and lilies came something new.

Foreign. Potent. Electric.

Like a live wire against my skin.

My wolf knew before my human mind did. Male. Strong. Dangerous.

My pulse betrayed me, quickening against my will. The pull was unwanted, invasive—heat crawling under my skin when I least wanted it.

I stayed rooted at the casket. Whoever carried that scent wouldn’t see me flinch.

Jaw set, I turned only enough to walk back to my seat—deliberate, unhurried steps. The pack filed forward, each laying a hand on Adam’s coffin, whispering their farewells.

I sat stiff and still, fingers digging into my knees, every nerve screaming to turn toward that scent.

But I didn’t.

Because I knew—once I did—nothing would ever be the same.