Liora POV:
The moment he walked in, the chaotic energy of The Howl simply ceased. The loud chatter, the drunken laughter, the simmering aggression—it all evaporated, sucked into the vacuum created by his presence.
Rowan Hayes.
His Alpha aura was a palpable force, a crushing weight of power and absolute authority that made even the most hardened rogues bow their heads in instinctual submission.
My heart hammered against my ribs, not from fear, but from the thrill of the hunt. The bait was in the water, and the shark had arrived.
I knew from my research that Rowan sometimes came here, scouting for capable rogues to add to his personal retinue. I had gambled my entire plan on him showing up tonight.
He moved toward the bar, his stormy grey eyes focused on the owner, completely oblivious to the seemingly pathetic Omega nursing a drink in the corner. This was my one and only chance.
I picked up my glass, took a shaky breath, and pushed off the bar. I let my knees buckle, feigning a drunken stumble, my trajectory perfectly calculated to intersect with his.
I collided with his hard-muscled side, the contents of my glass sloshing over the front of his expensive black jacket.
A collective gasp went through the bar. In their eyes, I had just signed my own death warrant.
Rowan stopped and looked down. His cold, piercing gaze met mine. He saw a woman, reeking of whiskey and sorrow, her unique scent of 'rainforest' tainted by grief.
I looked up, widening my eyes, letting them fill with a practiced mixture of alcohol-fueled haze and genuine-looking terror. "I'm so sorry," I stammered, my voice trembling. "I-I didn't mean to..."
The performance was flawless. I was the picture of a heartbroken, clumsy Omega who had made a terrible mistake.
His brow furrowed slightly. I saw the flash of recognition in his eyes. He knew who I was. Liora Varg. His younger brother's much-publicized Fated Mate. He had likely heard about the afternoon's drama; he made it his business to know everything Kade did. He could smell the fading scent of his brother on me, mingled with the unmistakable pheromonal chaos of a violently severed bond.
The rumors were true.
A flicker of something—amusement? opportunity?—crossed his face. His brother's discarded toy had just fallen right into his lap.
Before he could speak, a group of rogues who had been watching me all night decided to make their move. "Hey now, little beauty," their leader sneered, stepping closer. "Looks like you've offended Lord Rowan. Why don't you come with us? We'll help you... apologize."
This was it. The final piece of the act.
I shrank back, pressing myself against Rowan's solid frame, a wordless plea for protection. I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, my knuckles white.
"Sir, please," I whispered, my voice a desperate, broken thing. "Get me out of here."
I was offering him my submission. For an Alpha as powerful as Rowan, the appeal of a rival's mate willingly placing herself under his protection was an irresistible temptation.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. He understood the game.
He didn't say a word to me. He simply unleashed a fraction more of his Alpha power. The air crackled. The rogues who had been preying on me moments before physically recoiled, their faces paling as they scrambled to back away.
Then, he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. His voice was a low, rumbling baritone that sent a shiver down my spine.
"As you wish."
