2. RHYSON

POV Rhyson:

The little bird had remained silent throughout the car ride, her face completely expressionless as my men escorted her to the hotel room. We were only fifteen minutes from the hotel—Kork's idea, in case I didn't show up at the ball. My phone was already buzzing incessantly, but I chose to ignore it. Someone would eventually distract Kork. I wasn't sure why I felt compelled to take the redhead away from the ball. It was, for the most part, an excuse to avoid going in there, but it didn't take long to discover what had transpired. Larson had claimed his wife, and it wasn't the rejected redhead.

She was lovely. Small for a wolf, with a heart-shaped face and red hair interspersed with gold. Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose, yet there was no other sign that she had spent much time in the sun. Her skin was creamy and soft.

Beauty wasn't the reason I had taken her. Beauty surrounded me. Women paraded before me, hoping to catch my interest or to establish a mating bond. I liked women, but none had affected me as profoundly as she did.

And I didn't understand why. Perhaps it was the fear in her eyes, tapping into my wolf's instinct to protect. Maybe it was the fact that she believed if she kept running around in a torn dress, the other wolves would tear her apart.

A private elevator whisked us up to the penthouse. Her hands were still wrapped around her body, holding her dress up. Inside me, my wolf growled. We had both noticed the bruises on her back. I assumed they were from Larson's hands. Perhaps the little bird would welcome some brutality, but neither my wolf nor I wanted to witness it. I wouldn't want to see her marked or to know that she had experienced pain, even if she desired it. I also didn't want to think about her with Larson. That thought felt strange. Normally, I wouldn't care about a woman's sexual past. "Do you have a name?" I finally asked as we stepped out of the elevator.

"Maya."

"Maya. Do you know why I brought her here?"

"It's not hard to figure out." Her hands lowered, and the top of her dress slipped off, revealing a stunning pair of breasts, creamy and round with pink nipples, perfect for filling a man's hands. She stared at me defiantly, and I almost snorted in approval.

Instead, I smiled. "Exactly. I don't have a dress to replace this one, so I don't think you can go back to the ball, but you don't have to wear that all night."

A puzzled look crossed his face as I walked across the room to the closet. Kork complained that it didn't look good when my partners from the night before wandered around the house in their previous outfits,

so the hotel had some clothes stocked. I found a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that seemed to fit her. I threw myself on the bed and turned onto my back. "Drink?"

"What?"

"Would you like a drink?" I spoke slowly and clearly, letting my eyes drift to the mirror on the wall. I wasn't surprised when her gaze met mine. She had not yet changed her clothes. "The room is fully stocked: liquor, beer, wine, soda."

"Wine. Red." Turning around, she picked up her T-shirt and slipped it on before letting the dress fall to the floor. I looked away and made two drinks for us: bourbon for me and red wine for her. When I turned back, she still hadn't put on her jeans. The T-shirt hung over the tops of her creamy white thighs, provoking questions in my mind. It was the middle of summer. Most of the wolves here spent a lot of time in the sun and were golden-bronze.

I looked. I hadn't brought her here to have sex, only to rescue the injured bird and let her go, but now that she was walking half-naked, I found it hard to look away. There was a strange gaze in her eyes as she walked past me. It seemed like genuine interest, but when I met her gaze, she quickly looked away.

Submissive.

My wolf continued to stir within me. His interest was hard to ignore, but my desire was equally difficult to dismiss. I recalled once again that I hadn't brought her here for sex, yet that didn't stop images from flooding my mind. What would she do if I commanded her to spread her legs and reveal what lay between those beautiful thighs? What if I ran my hands over her skin to see if it was as soft as it appeared?

I handed her the wine and raised an eyebrow as she drank it and coughed. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two. Can I get another one?"

I tilted my glass back and took hers. "Maybe in a little while. If I want to put on my pants, I can ask one of my men to take you somewhere."

"Did you bring me here just so I could change my clothes?" she asked suspiciously.

"And give him a chance to grieve and mend his broken heart," I replied with a shrug. "And to save you from embarrassment. You made quite a scene. I would expect a she-wolf to bleed rather than run off in tears. What kind of wolf are you?"

"A princess," she murmured, then laughed at her private joke before clearing her throat. "So you decided to play the hero?"

At that, I snorted. "Believe me, princess, I'm no hero."

"Well, I'm not a heartbroken wolf," she said, giving me another strange look. Something was on her mind, something she couldn't shake off.

Broken. That was what she was, a she-wolf who had shattered completely. The reaction was very odd for a despised woman who claimed not to have a broken heart.

"So, what are you?"

Instead of answering, she gazed out the window. "I don't know the region very well. Where do you think I should go?"

I wanted to demand an answer. Partly because I wasn't accustomed to being ignored, but also because she was a mystery, and I disliked mysteries. Instead, I recalled the task at hand. The sooner I finished meeting with the alphas here, the sooner I could leave. "Home."

His expression darkened. "I can't do that. I need to breathe and think."

"Breathing and thinking can be easier with jeans."

His gaze shifted toward me. "You don't know much about women, do you? Nobody thinks it's easier with jeans."

"And what are you thinking about?"

"That it's over," she whispered so softly that I almost didn't catch it. "Did you bring me here just so I could clean myself? For no other reason?"

"Is it so hard to believe that?"

"I see the way you're looking at me."

At that, he smiled briefly. "I have good intentions, but I'm not dead. I appreciate beauty when I see it."

"Why were you outside the hotel?"

"You ask a lot of questions, little bird."

Maya's eyes widened slightly. "Little bird?"

"A female bird, small, helpless, and injured." I waited to see if she would defend herself, but she merely shook her head a little, as if she agreed. Was she so submissive that she couldn't stand up for herself?

"I'm just procrastinating, I guess. Was it a terrible question to ask?"

"No. I was also procrastinating. Dances are not exactly my idea of fun."

Laughing, she rolled her eyes, and I caught the first glimpse of something beneath the brittle shell that surrounded her. "Sorry, you're an alpha and you don't like dances? I find that hard to believe."

"Can you believe it then?"

"Oh, please. Alphas love nothing more than parading around and flaunting their power. You do it in your pack, but there's no genuine competition. Try it at a dance. That's where the real challenge lies. Managing an entire pack is not. You have to determine who the most significant alpha is. The strongest. The one who has the greatest control over his wolf. It's meant to be about camaraderie, but it’s just a big contest to see who has the bigger dick."