THE MATE HE REFUSED TO CLAIM

The auctioneer raised his hammer. “Last chance.” Lira Vale stood under a chandelier that showed every flaw she owned. She refused to look down. Chin up, always. The auction house hadn’t managed to steal that from her. Her wrists, tied behind her. A silver collar biting her neck. The black dress—too tight, way too short—did nothing to hide how hard her knees shook. Hundreds of eyes, all on her. Men in suits that cost more than her whole life. Women glittering with diamonds. Alphas, here to buy themselves something pretty. They stared at her the way men stare at a car they plan to drive off the lot. She swallowed. Being an Omega without a strong last name meant she was worth next to nothing. Tonight, she had a number, apparently. A hand shot up. “Three thousand.” Another. “Five.” A third. “Seven.” Staring at the marble floor was safer. Don’t cry. Don’t show them that. She’d already lost her freedom. She wasn’t about to hand them her dignity, too. The auctioneer grinned. “Seven thousand going once—” Another bid cut through. “Ten.” Lira’s stomach twisted. Ten thousand for a woman who couldn’t remember the last time anyone cared what she wanted. “Ten thousand going twice—” The main doors parted. Everything stopped. A man stepped in, slow and casual, like the room opened up just for him. She looked up. Tall. Wide shoulders, all in black. Dark hair. His face looked carved from stone—no trace of amusement, hunger, or even curiosity. Just power. Cold and absolute. The kind that made even other powerful men find something real interesting on the floor. Whispers spread. “Kace Thorn.” “The Alpha?” “He’s here in person?” Her pulse tripped. She knew that name. Who didn’t? Kace Thorn was the Alpha nobody tried to challenge. Businessman, warlord, monster—they called him worse things in the shadows. He found her with his eyes, and time fell away. There was just him, and the way he looked at her—like he’d stumbled across something he’d spent years searching for. Not merchandise, not prey. Something else. The auctioneer broke the spell. “Alpha Thorn. Maybe you’re interested in—” “Ten million,” Kace said. Silence. “Excuse me?” “Ten million,” he said, not glancing away from Lira. A ripple of shock tore through the crowd. For me? Her fingers clenched behind her back. “Ten million has been offered!” The auctioneer sounded dizzy. From the upper balcony, another voice: “Twelve.” She squinted, but all she caught was a gloved hand draped over the railing behind a veil. Kace’s jaw worked, once. “Twenty.” “Thirty.” “Forty.” Numbers leapt faster than she could track. Fifty. Sixty. Seventy million. Her heartbeat thundered under the silver collar. Why? Why would anyone fight over her? She had no money. No family. No pack. No influence. Just an Omega—useless, according to everyone she’d ever known. But for some impossible reason, two strangers were ready to burn fortunes for her. Then the veiled bidder raised a finger. “Eighty million.” Silence hit the room. Kace glared up at the balcony. He raised his voice. “Eighty million.” The auctioneer nearly fumbled the hammer. “Eighty million! Do I hear—” The veiled figure leaned forward and spoke in a voice that sent a chill through the air. “Let her die.” Everything froze. The chandelier flicked once—then the lights went out. For a heartbeat, nothing. Bang! A scream. Then another shot. Glass exploded and crashed down like rain. Lira dove, but someone caught her around the waist and yanked her away from the stage. She slammed into a solid chest. “Down,” said Kace, voice rough by her ear. Another bullet punched through the stage where she’d just stood. Kace dragged her behind a pillar. “Stay here.” He started to move. She grabbed at his sleeve, frantically. “Where are you going?” “To keep them from getting another shot.” He slipped into the dark. Gunfire broke out again. Lira flattened herself against the pillar. People shouted, furniture crashed, something not quite human howled in the dark. Her breath came ragged, then a man lurched from the shadow, gun raised at her. She stopped cold. The trigger squeezed— Kace slammed into her. The shot struck marble. He covered her with his body, heavy and solid. She heard nothing in that second but his heartbeat—never flinching, impossibly calm. His scent wrapped around her—dark cedar, rain, and something wild. Lira tried to look up. Their faces were nearly touching. His breath warmed her lips. His eyes were gold now. She stopped breathing. Whatever moved in her chest wasn’t fear. Not quite desire, either. Something deeper. Ancient. Like she recognized him in a way she couldn’t name. He felt it, too. She saw it break on his face—surprise, almost pain, something huge—before he yanked himself away. “Don’t,” he snapped. She stared, stung. “I didn’t do anything.” “You don’t understand.” Another gunshot. Kace spun, eyes bright as coins. The assassin charged. Kace caught him by the throat and smashed him against the wall hard enough to shatter stone. The gun tumbled. The man bared bloodied teeth. “You’re too late.” Kace tightened his grip. “Who sent you?” The man just laughed. “You know already.” “Who?” “The Registry.” Something in Kace’s face shifted. The man’s gaze flicked to Lira. “She survived…” Her stomach sank. “Who survived?” The assassin’s lips trembled. “Her mother…” He jerked. Blood streaked his mouth. Kace let go. The man dropped, lifeless. Lira stared at the body. The word mother echoed through her, sharp as a blade. She turned to Kace. “How do you know my name?” He kept his mouth shut. “Who was he talking about?” Nothing. “Where is my mother?” Silence. Lira stepped in. “You knew.” Kace finally met her gaze, and some of the old wildness faded from his eyes. “I’ve been looking for you.” Her chest squeezed. “You…” “For a long time.” “Why?” He looked her over—taking her in, studying what he saw. “Because someone else found you first.” Her voice cracked. “Who?” He didn’t hesitate. “The people who want you dead.” She waited, but he just looked at her, jaw tight. “Why?” “It’s not who you are that scares them,” he said quietly, “It’s what your blood can do.” Lira let out a shaky, broken laugh. “My blood?” He nodded at her hand, where her own blood—she hadn’t even noticed the cut—ran down onto the marble. “You think you’re powerless,” he said. She shook her head and pointed to the bloody floor. “See? Nothing.” His attention never left the spill. “Lira.” She frowned. “What?” “Step back.” Something in his tone compelled her. She moved away—just a little. Crack. The marble split at her feet. Lira stopped breathing. Thin black lines spread out and spiderwebbed in every direction. The floor shuddered. Conversations hushed; even the wounded stared at their feet. Cold crept in, her breath turning white. “What’s happening?” she whispered. Kace just stood there, pale as death. The splits widened. The ground buzzed. The great chandelier swayed overhead. “It’s impossible,” someone muttered. Another voice cut through, terrified. “It’s waking.” Lira grabbed Kace’s sleeve again. “What’s waking?” He reached for her. “Lira, listen—” The floor gaped open at her feet, and there was darkness below—deeper than any basement, older than the building itself. A sound rose. Whisper thin, but it filled the room—everyone heard it. “Lira.” Her heart stopped. Kace caught her wrist. “Don’t listen.” The voice slid closer, ancient and hungry. “Lira…” Heat blazed under her collarbone, burning through her skin. She met Kace’s eyes, saw nothing left of the monster from before—just terror. Then the voice whispered one last word. “Unbound.”