Ashelin didn't know exactly how long she stood there, floating in her own mind. She could feel the moon, focusing on its cycles, so she vaguely knew the passage of a day, but mostly she meditated.

Her wolf was the most docile she'd ever been, akin to stretching out next to a crackling fire, tail lapping against a warm hearth rug.

As Ashelin lingered in subspace, she cast out her senses to her new sisters-in-arms. They were opponents, technically, but these women were all here in the same position. Omegas from all over, offering themselves to the alpha in hopes of becoming his true mate—or maybe some didn't hope for it. She didn't know the motives of all of these women, but she would have to find out to gain every advantage she could.

Sometime during the second night, the air shifted, and the woman to her right fell.

Ashelin slitted her eyes open, discreetly watching as two sentinels moved from the beach to the woman's side.

"Don't move her!" A man in a lab coat rushed up the beach, practically flying past Ashelin as he barked the words. "Just let me make sure she's okay first!"

She caught a sweet scent in his wake, something fruity yet earthy, and with a pang it made her think of Gaspard. She swallowed hard, taking in another breath through her nose, out through her mouth. Breathing through emotional pain was just as effective as physical.

But then there was an undertone of something else, something that punched her in the gut with the shock of it. That man wasn't a wolf. He was human. She sniffed as hard as she could, but he was already too far away, and Ashelin had never been a tracker. If she shifted and put her nose to the ground, she would be able to pick up traces in the sand directly where the man's feet had touched, but she wasn't sensitive enough to grab it out of the air.

She couldn't hear what they were saying despite how much she strained her ears, either. She caught hums and murmurs as the doctor spoke with the woman, and then eventually he approved her for transport and one of the guard wolves lifted her up, bridal style, trailing after the doctor towards the grass.

She tried not to make it obvious that she was looking, but her heartbeat thundered in her ears. A human doctor? That was the last thing she'd been expecting to see, and it raised a lot of questions and doubts about what she'd originally thought coming here.

She stayed focused on the water as they left. One down, she thought, and though she didn't wish the unknown woman any ill will, that was one less Offering to deal with. And she couldn't worry about the doctor at this time. That was Future Ashelin's issue.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

She closed her eyes again, letting the moonlight bathe her in its comforting glow. She tipped her head back, enjoying the moonbeam shower, opening her chest and relaxing her shoulders.

She slowly lifted one foot and rested it on the inner calf of her other leg, balancing in a modified tree pose to centre herself.

Soon enough, her breathing grew slow and deep, her wolf slumbering once again, and she fell into a resting state, balanced in the sand, floating in the light of the moon.

She felt him before any of her other senses could. The presence of the alpha loomed over her back suddenly, as if a mountain had suddenly erupted from the centre of the island and she stood in its black shadow.

Ashelin's lips parted in a soft mewl as he grew closer, his essence sliding over her psyche, over her very soul. It was smooth but firm, pure confident dominance. It felt less like a sweet caress and more like a squeeze, encompassing her, curling around her with a grip just tight enough to show her who she belonged to.

And he wasn't even close enough for her to scent him.

Her gut clenched, roiling with excitement and nervousness. She'd expected him to be powerful, but this...this was something else.

Her old alpha, Killian de Brujin, had been touted as being born with enough dominance he could have commanded wolves when he was a toddler. She'd been with him when he became the first wolf to take on multiple betas and lead the largest pack in North America during the post apocalypse.

But even his dominance had never felt like this.

She caught a scent, then, a woodsy smell, like a spruce forest during a rainfall. She inhaled deep, gorging herself on it, headiness swirling as if she were drunk on it.

Ashelin swayed on her feet, letting the sensations wash over her, until the scent ebbed away, leaving her breathless. She looked down the beach, noting movement at the far end of the curved sand bank.

He stood before the Offering on the far side. If he went down the whole line in order, Ashelin would be last. Strategically, that was probably best, since she wanted to make the best impression on him and being last she might be able to take the most time and be the final Offering in his mind when he was finished.

But her wolf was impatient. She'd enjoyed being drunk on him, and craved his closeness once again.

He moved from the end of the line, coming closer, a glinting flash from his hand as he walked. He carried a handful of collars, one for each of them that he would put around their necks with his own hands. They had to consent to this, to having silver around their human form, caging their wolves completely.

It was the ultimate vulnerability, the ultimate submission, to willingly don silver. It kept a wolf from being able to shift, took away their defence against other wolves.

This would be the real point of no return.

Ashelin cast her eyes down, staring demurely into the sand as the water ebbed and flowed, lapping at the shore. That delicious dominance moved ever closer, and her eyelashes fluttered as the sensations roved over her again. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, unsure how she was going to handle being right in front of him if this was how it felt to be across the beach.

It was a good thing she lived for pushing the boundaries of what she could handle. Because she was certain that Nolan Frosaker would obliterate them.

As he drew closer, her heart throttled her chest. Her body felt warm, electric, nerve endings sparking with anticipation. Despite so badly wanting to look at him as his footfalls sounded in the sand, she resisted, keeping her gaze down like a proper submissive little omega.

Like a proper submissive little Offering.

When he stopped in front of her, his large bare feet strong in the sand, Ashelin fought to stay standing. Every muscle rippled beneath her skin, struggling to keep her upright beneath the wave of his essence. It should have frightened her how easily she could drop to her knees and bond with him right then—how easily his wolf could bend her to his will—but the racing blood in her veins was napalm.

Her chest bloomed with the heat and her breath hitched as his fingertips grazed her cheek through the fabric.

"Well aren't you dangerous," he murmured, and the deep husk of his voice thrummed through her body, raising goosebumps along her skin. "Look at me."

His command nearly lifted her up onto her toes with the force of it, but it was as if she were moving in slow motion, time stretching between them like an elastic. She drew her gaze up his legs, strong calves disappearing up into long loose-fitted shorts. The thin dark fabric didn't do much to hide a sizable bulge, and her mouth went dry.

A leather belt inlaid with runic symbols wove through the waistband of the garment, cinching it low on his hips, teasing the deep V of his pelvic bone. Heat pooled in her belly, churning like lava, and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth as she roved her eyes up over every ridge of his decorated torso. Black ink wove intricate designs all over the left side of his body, encompassing the shoulder and arm as if he were wearing a full-sleeved pauldron.

Nolan seemed to go on forever, his tall frame living up to the mountainous feel of his essence. And then she found his jaw, a soft ridge encompassed by glittering scruff, the sun shining through honey and gold hair nestled amongst dark brown. His lips were full and satiny smooth, the kind that could bring heights of pleasure but also bruising punishment.

She quivered as she finally met his eyes, deep brown pools that went on forever, and her heart stopped beating. Her wolf sang. Nothing else in the world existed and his scent encircled her, that woodsy smell laced with fire and ice and wildness.

Dangerous, he'd called her.

Ashelin couldn't imagine why or how she could be dangerous to him. He was the danger. He'd turned her into a messy simpering puddle just by standing in front of her, and by the way his breath hitched as he inhaled in through his nose, he could smell her arousal.

Focus focus focus, she chanted internally, attempting to keep some semblance of her brain intact. His presence was overwhelming, but the more she basked in it, the more she found she was adjusting, as if she'd slipped into an outdoor hot tub in the winter and slowly got used to the blistering heat.

He danced his fingertips along her collarbone, drawing some of the sheer fabric between his thumb and forefinger. "This is authentic." His voice had a natural rasp to it that reverberated in her core. "Where did you get it?"

"It was my grandmother's." She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. Even her tongue felt sluggish. "Passed down for generations through the maternal line."

The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. "You were taught well." He drew a finger down the silky white rope criss-crossing her chest, tracing it under a breast.

Her lips parted, unable to stifle a soft mewl as she arched slightly. Her nipples were taut, aching for touch, a palm, a pinch, a bite.

"So responsive." Nolan raised the collar, dangling it in front of her from a long finger. "Do you accept my silver?" His thumb brushed back and forth across the swell of her breast and she struggled to keep her knees from buckling.

The braided band looked delicate, but it didn't have to be thick and strong to be effective. It had an invisible clasp, and would snap around her throat as a snug choker.

"Yes," she breathed, her chest hitching as he moved his nimble hands inside the hood of her robe.

Ashelin had been bound in silver exactly three times in her life. The first was with her first alpha, Gaspard, who was also her best friend and occasional lover, just to see what it was like. The second time was post apocalypse when Gaspard's pack had joined forces with Killian's and they'd all had to wear silver for a probationary period before they could be trusted to stay in Toronto.

The third was when she'd been taken by a murderous maniac while she'd been defending her second alpha.

She knew what it felt like to cage her wolf. As soon as she'd donned the silver all of those other times, it was as if her soul was encased in steel, screaming and fighting to be released. Even that first time, having done it out of curiosity, had been uncomfortable.

This time, there was no screaming or fighting. This time, her wolf rolled over, exposing her throat. This time, as soon as the clasp clicked shut, Ashelin was at peace.

She had never felt so fragile, so breakable. She was a wolf, made of strength and power, but the irony was that she craved helplessness, craved someone that could obliterate her. With wolves that took more than sheer physical prowess.

It took an alpha. It took a viking. It took Nolan Frosaker.

Well, how are we feeling? Is Nolan what you expected?