FAKING LUNA

Chapter Two

The Blackthorn Security SUV smelled like leather, pine-sol, and Nikolai’s blood.

Daphne sat sideways across the back seat, wrists cuffed behind her, ankles zip-tied for good measure. She’d stopped struggling five minutes ago; not because she was giving up, but because every twist of the cuffs rubbed deliciously against Nikolai’s scent glands on his wrists. The metal was warm from his skin, and the faint trace of his Alpha pheromones kept sliding straight into her bloodstream like top-shelf tequila.

Which was annoying as hell.

She hated the way her wolf rolled over and showed her belly every time he so much as breathed in her general direction.

Nikolai sat beside her, one arm stretched along the back of the seat, the other holding a wad of gauze to his still-bleeding nose. He hadn’t spoken since that little throw away threat of his 30 minutes ago.

The silence was worse than yelling. It gave her too much time to notice things she didn’t want to notice.

Like the way the streetlights striped gold across the sharp line of his jaw. Or the way his suit jacket had ridden up just enough to reveal the holster strapped to his ribs that carried a matte black Glock because he was just that kinda guy.

Or the way his thigh pressed against hers every time the SUV took a sharp turn.

Daphne blew a strand of orange hair out of her face. “So are we doing the whole brooding silence thing all night, or are you eventually going to tell me where you’re taking me to?”

“Police station,” he said flatly. Daphne blinked, stunned though not surprised. She lets out a nervous chuckle, “You're lying...right?"

His eyes flicked to her in the dark. “You have a better idea?”

“Yeah. You let me go, and we can pretend this whole night never happened. I’ll even throw in a gift basket for you and your cousin. How does that sound? Fair right. Cause it sounds pretty fair to me."

The driver (some poor beta who’d been drafted into this circus) coughed to cover a laugh.

Nikolai’s sharp glare turned to him, cold enough to freeze lava. The beta shut up instantly which made Daphne grinned.

The SUV slowed and turned into an underground garage she didn’t recognize. It descended three levels before it finally stopped at the kind of place that she knew didn’t officially exist on any city map. Concrete walls with no markings and cameras within every five feet.

The Blackthorn Pack’s private holding facility.

Great.

The vehicle rolled to a stop. The doors clicked opened automatically just as two more enforcers appeared. They were big, silent and trying very hard not to stare at the rogue cuffed in their Alpha’s backseat.

Nikolai climbed out first. Then he reached in, grabbed her by the elbow, and hauled her out like she weighed nothing. The zip-ties around her ankles forced her to take tiny, humiliating hops beside him as he moved.

“Walk." he ordered, pushing her forward a bit.

“Romantic.” She huffed as he half-carried, half-dragged her through a steel door and down a hallway that smelled like bleach and old rotting dried up blood. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Every door they passed had a keypad and a biometric scanner.

At the end of the corridor was a single interrogation room with One table, two chairs and a mirror that was definitely not a mirror.

Nikolai shoved her inside, kicked the door shut, and finally uncuffed her wrists. Blood rushed back into her fingers with a thousand angry pins and needles.

Daphne rolled her shoulders, turned slowly, and took stock of the predicament she had gotten herself in.

The room was intentionally cold. The table was bolted to the floor, the chairs were metal and Nikolai was blocking the only exit with his arms crossed over his chest looking like he’d been carved from granite.

He had taken off the ruined suit jacket somewhere between the garage and here. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled up, blood speckled across the collar. The scar on his face stood out livid white against tanned skin.

Daphne’s mouth went dry. f**k he was hot-

Focus, i***t.

She sauntered to the table, pulled out a chair with her foot, and sat backwards on it, arms folded over the backrest.

“So,” she said cheerfully, “Is this the part where you threaten to skin me alive, or do we skip straight to the s****l tension portion of the evening?”

His eyes narrowed. “Phone.”

“Buy me dinner first.”

“Daphne.”

“Nikolai.” She mimicked his tone perfectly.

He moved so fast she barely tracked it. One second he was by the door, the next he was looming over her, hands braced on the table on either side of her hips, caging her in.

“Phone,” he repeated, voice low enough to rattle her bones.

She tilted her head back to meet his stare. Up close, his eyes weren’t just gold; they were ringed in black, the mark of an Alpha who’d killed more times than most wolves had in their entire lives. She should be scared of him, she really should, but something about everything that was going on just made her want to tease him even more.

Daphne smiled with all her teeth. “Make me.”

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, then he reached for her.

She let him get within an inch of her jacket zipper before she struck; twisting sideways, grabbing the chair, and swinging it hard into his ribs.

He grunted, more surprised than hurt.

Daphne vaulted over the table, landed in a crouch on the other side, and bolted for the door.

She almost made it. Almost. Before is arm hooked around her waist, yanking her back against his chest. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. One of his hands clamped over her mouth before she could scream, the other pinned both her wrists behind her back.

“Stop fighting.” he growled against her ear as she shoved her back in the direction, she struggled in his hold for a good second before she sunk her teeth deep into his hand. Hard.

He swore in Russian, fingers jerking just enough for her to wrench one hand free. She went for the phone tucked in her bra only to find his hand there already.

His fingers brushed the curve of her breast as he snatched the phone free. Daphne froze in shock and so did he.

The room went eerily quiet except for their breathing.

Nikolai stared at the phone in his hand like it had personally betrayed him. Then his gaze dropped to her chest, where her jacket had parted just enough to reveal black lace and the edge of a scar that ran between her breasts.

His pupils dilated as he breathed heavily behind her. Daphne swallowed, thick and slow. "Eyes up here, Nightwalker.”

He didn’t move, eyes never leaving her chest, watching as hee chest rose and fell with every shaky breathe she took.

She shoved at his chest. “I said-"

The door burst open.

A human police detective walked in, blinking at the scene infront of him which showed Daphne half-sprawled across the table, Nikolai looming over her, blood on both of them, tension thick enough to choke on.

The detective cleared his throat. “Uh… Alpha Blackthorn? The captain says you can’t—uh—interrogate suspects in our facility without—”

Nikolai straightened, expression sliding into cold, untouchable control. “This suspect assaulted me and I want to press charges.”

The detective looked at Daphne, took in the zip-tied ankles, the bite mark on Nikolai’s hand, the blood on both of them, and clearly decided he was paid to not ask questions.

“Right. Well. We’ve got an interrogation room free down the hall with actual cameras. miranda rights, you know the works.”

Nikolai gave a short nod. “Lead the way.”

Daphne was recuffed, though this time with police-issue steel and marched out of the private facility, up three floors in a service elevator, and into the public wing of the city’s central precinct.

By the time they reached the real interrogation room, it was somewhere around 3AM and Daphne was running on spite and the last dregs of her adrenaline.

The human detective sat her down, read her rights in a bored monotone, and left her alone with Nikolai and a one-way mirror.

Perfect.

Daphne leaned back in the new chair and smirked at Nikolai.

“Cozy,” she said. “You bring all your dates here?”

He didn’t answer. Just stood by the mirror, arms crossed, staring at her like he was trying to figure out how to dissect her soul.

She let the silence stretch. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.

Finally she sighed dramatically. “Fine. You win the brooding contest. Congratulations. Do I get a prize?”

He moved to the table, pulled out the opposite chair, and sat. Then he placed her phone between them like a loaded gun.

“Unlock it.”

“No.”

He leaned forward. “Daphne. I am trying very, very hard not to lose my temper.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

His hand slammed on the table hard enough to rattle the cuffs. “You filmed my cousin cheating on his mate. You’re planning to sell that video to the highest bidder. That makes you a threat to my pack.”

“Sebastian made himself a threat to his mate the second he stuck his d**k in Candy Sparkles,” she snapped. “I’m just doing my job.”

Nikolai’s eyes flashed. “You think this is a game?”

“I think Clara Nightwalker deserves to know her mate is a lying piece of s**t who spends pack money on bottle service and fake t**s. I think she deserves the payout that comes with proof. And I think you’re pissed because for once, someone caught a Blackthorn with their pants down and you can’t buy your way out of it.”

His jaw worked. “How much?”

Daphne blinked. “Excuse me?”

“How much do you want to delete that video and disappear?”

She laughed, sharp and bitter. “You think I’m for sale?”

“Everyone is.”

“Not me.” She leaned forward until their faces were inches apart. “I’m the one who does the selling, remember?”

For the first time, something like frustration - real frustration - racked his mask.

“Do you have any idea what happens if that video gets out?” he asked quietly. “Sebastian’s mate is seven months pregnant. Seven months. The scandal will destroy her. The stress could—”

He stopped. Clenched his jaw so hard she heard the click.

Daphne felt something cold slide down her spine.

Pregnant.

She hadn’t known Clara was pregnant. She always checked. Always. She never took jobs that would hurt pups or pregnant mates. It was her one line.

Her voice came out smaller than she wanted. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

She searched his face, and to her dismay found no deception. Only exhausted fury.

Shit.

Daphne sat back, chains clinking against eachother. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

“But now you do.”

Silence feel over the both of them again as Daphne racked her brain for her next course of action. She stared at the table. At the phone. At the future payout that had just turned to ash in her mouth.

Nikolai watched her like a hawk watching a mouse realize the trap she'd stepped into had just snapped shut.

Finally she said, “Delete it.”

He didn’t move immediately, instead he stood there, eyes searching every inch of her face for a sign that she wasn't being serious.

“I said delete the video,” she repeated. “I’m not a monster.”

He picked up the phone, his thumb hovering over the screen-

“But,” she added, “I want something in return.”

His eyes narrowed. “Of course you do.”

30 MINUTES LATER...

The precinct hallway was quiet except for the hum of vending machines and the occasional snore from a drunk tank.

Nikolai leaned against the wall outside the interrogation room, arms crossed, staring at the closed door.

Inside, Daphne Bright sat cuffed to the table, head tipped back, eyes closed, waiting for whatever came next.

He should feel triumphant instead he felt like he’d just made a deal with the devil. A devil that had freckles, a smart mouth, and a laugh that slid under his skin in a frighteningly good way.

His phone buzzed with a text from his uncle, the Alpha.

*Uncle:* A council letter came today. A new mating law has been re-enforced. You have 363 days to take a Luna or lose the pack to Sebastian.

Nikolai stared at the screen until the words blurred and jumbled together into incomprehensible shapes and numbers.

363 days. He had a little less than a year to find a Luna. He was Nikolai f*****g Nightwalker. He didn't do mates, which meant he didn't plan on picking up some omega to make his Luna any time soon.

What the f**k was he going to do now?!

He looked back at the interrogation room door, racking his brain for anything that could help him out of this situation when an idea pops into his head.

An insane, desperate idea that possibly ranked at the top of the worst ideas of the decade.

He pushed off the wall, opened the door, and stepped inside.

Daphne’s eyes snapped open, her eyes immediately meeting his as he walks towards her in heavy tense stomps.

“Change of plans,” he said.

She arched a brow. “Do tell.”

He closed the door behind him, locked it even. Then he walked to the table, pulled out the chair oppsite her, and sat down across from her like a man so wound up he'd burst at the slightest touch.

“How much,” he asked quietly, “would it take for you to pretend to be my Luna for one year?”

Daphne stared at him, really stared at him. Long and hard before she started laughing so hard the cuffs around her arms rattled.

Nikolai waited patiently - half embarrassed - as he watched her laugh her pretty little head off.

When she finally caught her breath with tears of mirth in her eyes, she gasped, “You’re insane.”

“Probably.”

“You hate me.”

“Definitely.”

“And you want me to fake-mate you. In public. For a year?”

“Yes.”

She leaned forward, grin sharp enough to cut. “How much are we talking, Nightwalker?”

He didn’t blink.

“Half my personal fortune. Liquid. It will be transferred the day the contract is signed.”

Her laughter died, instantly replaced by dead silence.

“You’re serious.” She chuckled sofly in disbelief.

“As a silver bullet.”

Daphne studied him for a long, long moment before she finally smiled, slow and wicked.

“Get me a pen,” she said. “And a very strong drink.”

She paused, eyeing the man up.

“And Nikolai?”

He raised a brow, now utterly tired of her antics.

“If we’re doing this,” she purred, “we’re doing it my way.”

She held up her cuffed wrists.

“Starting with getting these damn things off me. I negotiate better with coffee. Coffee that your buying.”