DAPHNE

I'm sitting at the vanity, dragging a brush through my hair, when the reality of tonight finally settles in.

Krue.

Just Krue.

I pause mid-stroke, staring at my reflection.

Last night had been both of them—hands and mouths and heat, the three of us tangled together until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. I'd assumed that's how it would be. Every night. The three of us.

But Eleanor had explained it to me this afternoon, casual as anything while we reviewed the pack's medical supply inventory. The twins take turns. One night with Krue, the next with Arden. It's tradition—something about maintaining individual bonds within the triad, preventing favoritism, ensuring balance.

I'd nodded along like it made perfect sense, but internally I was recalibrating everything.

The shock has worn off now, replaced by something I wasn't expecting: anticipation.

I set the brush down and reach for the small bottle of oil Eleanor had left on the vanity—some kind of jasmine blend that's supposed to be calming. I work a few drops through the ends of my hair, and the scent fills the room.

Today had been good. Better than good. Eleanor had taken me through the pack house from top to bottom, introducing me to everyone who mattered and half the people who didn't. She'd been warm, protective, fiercely proud every time someone complimented me or asked a question I answered well.

And now tonight, I get Krue alone.

Last night I'd barely had time to learn him—too distracted by Arden's mouth on my neck, by the competing pull of both of them at once. Tonight will be different. Focused. Just us.

The thought sends heat curling low in my stomach.

The knock comes.

Krue's scent reaches me through the door—clean and dark, unmistakably him.

"Come in," I call.

The door opens, and he steps inside. He's dressed down from earlier—dark pants, a simple shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair is slightly damp, like he just showered.

His eyes find mine in the mirror, and something in his expression softens.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey." He closes the door behind him and crosses the room. His reflection appears behind mine, and I watch him in the glass as he stops just behind my chair.

His hand settles on my shoulder, thumb brushing against my collarbone.

"You smell good," he murmurs.

"Your mother gave me oil."

"Remind me to thank her."

I set the brush down and turn to face him. He's close—close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

"Long day?" I ask.

"Long enough." His hand slides from my shoulder to cup my jaw. "Better now."

The air between us shifts, thickening.

I stand slowly, and his hand stays where it is, following the movement. We're nearly chest to chest now, and I can feel the heat radiating off him.

"Krue—"

He kisses me.

Not tentative. Not asking. Just takes my mouth like he's been thinking about it all day, and I open for him without hesitation.

His other hand finds my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I make a sound I don't recognize—something between a gasp and a moan.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to back me toward the bed, his mouth trailing down my neck, teeth grazing skin.

We reach the bed and he turns me, pressing me down onto the mattress. I land on my back, and he follows, settling his weight over me in a way that makes my breath catch.

His mouth finds mine again, deeper this time, more demanding. He growls low against my throat.

His hand slides beneath my shirt, palm hot against my ribs, and I arch into the touch.

"Krue—"

His hand moves higher, and I'm about to lose any ability to form coherent words when—

A sharp knock at the door.

We both freeze.

Krue pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark, his breathing uneven.

"Ignore it," he mutters, already reaching for me again.

The knock comes again, harder this time.

"Alpha Krue?" A voice, young by the sound of it. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but—"

Krue closes his eyes briefly, jaw tight. Then he pushes himself up and off the bed, running a hand through his hair.

"What?" he calls out, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"I'm sorry, Alpha, but—the Beta's daughter sent me. She's fallen ill and is asking for you specifically. She says it's urgent."

Silence.

I sit up slowly, smoothing my shirt back down. My heart is still pounding, but for a different reason now.

Tina.

The memory surfaces immediately. In my past life, she'd pulled this same move—faked being sick to get attention, to stir up drama. I'd fallen for it then, lost my temper publicly, and it had cost me.

Not this time.

Krue looks at me, and I can see the conflict on his face—duty warring with desire.

"I'll be quick," he says quietly.

"No." I stand and cross to him. "We'll both go."

His eyebrows lift. "You don't have to—"

"She's a pack member, and I'm Luna." I reach for my jacket. "If someone's sick, I should be there."

He studies my face for a long moment, and something in his expression shifts. Surprise. Maybe respect.

"All right," he says finally. "We'll go together."

I finish dressing while he opens the door and dismisses the messenger. By the time I'm ready, Krue is waiting by the door, watching me with that same unreadable expression.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing." But his mouth curves slightly. "Just thinking most people wouldn't want to come."

"I'm not most people."

"No," he says. "You're not."

We walk through the pack house side by side, and I can feel eyes tracking us. Word travels fast. The Beta's daughter is ill, the Alpha is going to her, and his new mate is coming along.

I keep my spine straight and ignore the whispers.

Tina's rooms are on the second floor, west wing. Krue knocks once, and a soft voice calls out.

"Come in."

He pushes the door open.

The room is dim, curtains drawn, a single lamp casting warm light across the bed. Tina is propped against the pillows, hair falling in soft waves, a thin silk robe draped over her shoulders. She looks pale, delicate—every inch the suffering maiden.

Her eyes find Krue first. Then me.

The flicker of irritation is quick, but I catch it.

"Daphne," she says softly. "I didn't know you were coming."

"I wanted to check on you myself." I move farther into the room, close enough to see the faint flush on her cheeks, the dilated pupils. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful." She presses a hand to her forehead. "I've had this terrible headache all day, and I feel so weak."

I study her. The flush. The pupils. The faint smell clinging to her skin.

Alcohol.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask.

Her eyes widen. "What? No—"

"You smell like wine."

Krue's gaze cuts to me, then to Tina.

She laughs lightly. "I had a glass with dinner. That's all."

"More than a glass, I think."

The smile slips. "I don't understand—"

"You're suffering from overdrinking." I tilt my head. "Rest, and you'll be fine."

I take Krue's arm and turn toward the door, pulling him with me.

"Krue, wait—I really am sick, I wouldn't lie about—"

But we're already moving. Krue follows me out, and the door closes behind us, cutting off the rest of her words.