I think I'm in heaven. Maybe I died in that ritual circle and heaven is being worshipped by this man.

Because sex with him feels like worship. I feel like a goddess, like his sole existence is to bring my body pleasure.

He takes me slowly, every ridge of his thick length drawing euphoria from my core. I clutch his shoulders, my head thrown back, eyes closed, the feeling of fullness overwhelming.

"Look at me," he growls, and he could have used his dominance to force me to but he doesn't.

My eyelashes flutter as my gaze focuses on him, and we stare into each other. I'm lost in his honeyed eyes, and it's like we've completed an infinite circle, our bodies joined physically and spiritually, and I'm sure I'm going to combust as my core coils like a spring, like I'm going to explode again and...

Aldous kisses me and I come apart, my orgasm hitting me like a tidal wave, roiling through my body, pleasure churning as he speeds up his pace, drawing it out and bringing me up to a frenzy, and I'm coming again but is it a second one or is it just the same, because it's still going and he's pounding into me now, and all I can do is dig in and hold on and lose myself in the sensations overtaking my body—

I'm falling again, and this time he's with me, he groans into my throat and stills his movements, arms around my back and clutching me against him like I'm his lifeline.

At some point, we collapse, a tangle of limbs and sweat and pleasure.

Aldous sweetly kisses my cheek, nuzzling against my hot skin. I can't believe this feeling, this feeling of fullness, of newly mated bliss, of—

"I love you, Lydia Quinn," he whispers.

My heart sinks, and my blood runs cold.

Oh, no.

* * *

We doze for a while, or at least Aldous does, and I pretend to. I could have lived in that moment forever, the moment right before he'd called me by another woman's name.

It's taking everything in me not to scream at him, shake him and tell him my name is Aera, that the Delacroix's forced me into this, that I never meant to lie to him, that I was so scared but now I feel safe for the first time in my life...

But I can't say any of that.

Because Marla will have Ellis killed.

Guilt twists my guts. Here I am, laying in the arms of an amazing man—my mate, my husband, gods I have a husband—and Ellis is at home, probably agonizing over what horrors I could be experiencing right now. Imagining what it would have been like to run away together, be in this exact position together.

I feel even guiltier that I can't imagine it. I don't know if I've ever really been able to, either. Ellis is important to me, he's my best friend, the only person—until now—that ever treated me with any sort of care and respect. But that doesn't mean I could ever see us together romantically.

And I know that's what he wants. I feel guilty for not wanting it. For being glad this isn't with him right now. He's cared for me emotionally my whole life...shouldn't I want him to be my one and only? Don't I owe him that?

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I owe everyone too much that I can't give. I owe Ellis my heart. I owe my old pack my obedience. I owe both packs the breaking of the curse, which I don't even know if it'll work because I'm not Lydia.

I owe Aldous the truth, the truth of who I am. Who he married.

I can't give all of these things without screwing the rest. I can't give most of these things because they aren't even in my power to control.

I can't give the last thing because it will kill an innocent man. The only decent wolf in that whole damn pack.

The tears flow freely now and I can't stop them. The entire weight of all of this crashes down on me all at once, and I'm terrified to wake Aldous but I can't stop. I wish I could slip away to cry in private but he's still wrapped around me and I'd probaby wake him.

I try to get myself under control, but it doesn't work, and he stirs. I want to tell him I'm sorry for waking him, but nothing comes out but a ragged wet gasp.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry," he says, shaking sleep from his sweet voice. "I didn't make sure you were alright after." He pulls up the blankets, wrapping me up like a burrito.

I miss his warmth, his skin, already, and that just makes me cry harder because I don't deserve it.

He seems torn for a moment whether to stay or go, but staying wins and he pulls me against him in a sitting position, cradling me against his chest. He lets out a sharp whistle, and the door to the bedroom opens almost immediately. Does somebody stand out there and wait to be called at all times? Did they hear us earlier? My cheeks burn.

"Yes, my lord?" the young woman asks, pointedly looking at the alpha and not at me.

"Please bring food and drink, and a warm basin with a cloth," Aldous instructs, and though his rumble is stable I can feel his concern through our bond.

Oh gods, our mate bond. It's starting to grow, I can feel his wolf intertwined with mine. Will he feel my deception, my lies? Will he feel my deep sadness, and think that it's about something else? I didn't foresee this, didn't know how intense it would be.

I've been taught about mate bonds and how they work, sure, but didn't know our feelings would twist together like this.

The servant wolf returns, setting a large ornate bowl on the dresser along the far wall. She disappears again, and I'm finally getting myself under control when she reappears with a large tray piled with food.

My stomach growls of its own accord, and I can't remember when I last ate, not that my meals were terribly good back home. I mostly subsisted off of scraps from everyone else.

This is a feast. My eyes widen to saucers as I take in wedges of cheese, strips of smoked meat, big juicy grapes and crisp apple slices, and I'm trying to figure out what the long yellow things are when Aldous waves for the tray to come right to the bed.

"I should have fed you as soon as you got here," he murmurs as the servant wolf settles the tray on the mattress. "Thank you, Trisha."

She bows and briskly leaves the house, and Aldous immediately reaches for a glass of water.

"Here, love, please drink, first," he says gently, bringing it to my lips.

Love, he called me. It takes everything in me not to burst into tears again. Love is better than Lydia, but it still hurts.

I drink, and the cold water is glorious. My stomach growls in protest, though, not wanting water, but food.

"I should have planned a whole feast before the ceremony, but..." He trails off, shaking his head as he puts the glass back down and picks up a slice of salty meat. "It was morning, and because time was not on our side...I shouldn't have rushed things."

He holds up the meat and I want to respond to him but I'm so hungry, I snatch it from his hand and stuff it in my mouth, the delicious tang of the aged whatever-it-is on my tongue exploding my taste buds. I grab one of the yellow fruit things I couldn't identify and it's sour and sweet at the same time, and a fantastic texture, not too soft and not too hard. After two apple slices and three hunks of soft cheese, I finally slow down, flushing under his gaze.

"I'm sorry too," I say hoarsely, and clear my throat. "You've done nothing wrong, I'm just overwhelmed." I reach for another piece of yellow fruit, and mentally kick myself. "My lord. Sorry."

"No, no." He reaches up and cups my cheek in his large hand. "You have nothing to be sorry for. And please, you're my wife now, my mate. You may call me Aldous."

I want you to call me Aera. Don't call me Lydia ever again, I can't bear it.

But I can't say that. So instead I stuff more of the amazing fruit in my mouth, followed by more meat, then more cheese, until I can't speak because I am chewing too much food.

"I also didn't check on you after we made love," he continues, and I nearly choke on my mouthful. "I was fully prepared not to even remove your robe for our ritual...our wolves were so open to each other that we could have sealed the mate bond without intercourse, but..." He takes a deep breath through his nose, exhaling on a growl. "I took advantage, and you have a traumatic history and—"

I struggle to swallow everything in my mouth so that I don't have to spit it all over him to speak, but I can't let him continue. "No, stop," I insist, putting a hand on his chest to make him wait while I gulp down the last of the cheese, wincing at how unladylike I must look right now. "Please. I wanted it. All of it. I wanted you." I meet his gaze, because I want him to feel the honesty, be able to understand it on a deep level through the bond while I say it. "That was the most beautiful experience I've ever had. I loved every second of it. You didn't hurt me. You could have and you didn't. You took care of me, and are still taking care of me. And it's just...very overwhelming. It'll take me a while to get used to it. That's all."

His eyes flutter closed for a beat, then open again, golden irises shining a little. "It breaks my heart that you're so unused to respect and proper affection that you have to 'get used' to be treated properly."

He says the words, and I feel that they're true, but I can also feel the rage broiling beneath the surface, like a fever pitch. His wolf wants blood. And my wolf knows not to be afraid. Knows that he wants the blood of anyone who has ever hurt me, because I am his mate now, and he wants to protect me.

This makes things even more complicated, because our marriage is supposed to be a truce between the packs, to keep everyone alive and not cursed. If he were to blow in and murder all of the Delacroix wolves—which, aside from Ellis, wouldn't make me lose any sleep, to be honest—that would defeat the purpose of it all.

His wolf doesn't seem to care about that. But this man has very good control of his wolf. And if I couldn't feel these things, I don't know if I would have caught any of it from his outward appearance.

He can't hide from me. Which makes me nervous about hiding from him.

"What is this fruit?" I ask, holding up another slice of the yellow stuff, hoping to distract both of us.

"Mango," he says. "My favourite. My traders bring it up from the south, by boat."

This surprises me so much that it really does distract me from my worrisome thoughts. "Boat? You have a boat?"

He chuckles. "My ancestors were pirates, didn't you know?" His voice has a teasing lilt to it, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and I decide that I like this Aldous too, the playful one. There are many sides to this man.

"So you have a pirate ship?" I try to tease right back, but the effect is lost as I speak through more cheese.

"My father liked to think so, but no, it's just a cruiser," he says, taking a sip of water for himself and offering me the glass. "I am most at home on the ocean. Have you ever sailed?"

I shake my head. "The biggest body of water I've ever seen is a lake...and I've never taken a boat on it." I take a long sip from the glass before setting it back down and picking out a grape.

"I don't leave as much now that I'm the alpha," he admits. "I used to go on runs down the coast all the time. Sometimes we'd steer out to open ocean and go until we couldn't see land anymore. It's so peaceful."

I'm not sure if it would be peaceful or terrifying, but I don't want to say so. The part about him not being able to leave saddens me, though. The crushing weight of responsibility for his pack, and he doesn't have the freedom to feel peace. I can feel his deep connection to his pack, his drive to do what's best for them, his devotion to their well-being. All of this is admirable, but there is a sadness there too, like he would be happy to just not have these things.

But here he is, marrying an omega from a rival pack, solidifying his drive to save his wolves from sickness and death.

"You're an incredible man," I whisper, before I can stop myself.

He dances his fingers along my cheekbone. "And you're an incredible woman. I promise I will make sure you get used to feeling loved and cherished. By me, and by your new pack."

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.

I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you.