The Alpha's Forbidden Vow novel Chapter 2

POV: Selene

The breakfast table the next morning was a battlefield disguised by fine china and starched linen.

Zane sat opposite me, a terrifyingly composed predator in a crisp black shirt that strained across his broad shoulders.

He looked as if he hadn't spent the night growling my name into his fist like a madman.

His face was an unreadable mask of stone, his control absolute.

It made me wonder if I had imagined the whole thing, if I had been so desperate for his attention that my mind had conjured a filthy, impossible fantasy.

But I knew I hadn’t.

Because as I slid into my seat, trying to make myself as small and unnoticeable as possible, I felt it.

His stare.

It wasn’t a look; it was a physical force, a focused beam of heat that scorched the side of my face.

My werewolf senses, usually dull and suppressed in this house, screamed to life.

I could feel the sheer pressure of his Alpha aura directed solely at me, a silent command to submit, to tremble.

And I did.

My hands shook so badly I had to clench them in my lap to stop myself from dropping my fork.

He didn't speak to me, didn't acknowledge me, but his attention was a suffocating blanket.

He knew.

His acute hearing must have picked up the frantic beat of my heart from across the table.

His wolf’s sense of smell… oh, gods.

He could probably smell the lingering scent of my arousal from last night, the way my body had betrayed me just by listening to him.

The thought sent a fresh wave of heat and shame through me.

The moment breakfast was over, I fled to the kitchens.

It was my sanctuary, the one place where the staff treated me with a sort of detached kindness.

It was empty now, the morning rush over.

"You reek of arousal, Selene. My little ghost is soaked."

He spun me around, slamming me back against the sink, his hands gripping my upper arms in a hold that would surely leave bruises.

His powerful body pinned me, a hard, inescapable cage.

I couldn't meet his eyes, staring instead at the pulse beating in the strong column of his throat.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

The Alpha tone in his voice was undeniable, forcing my chin up.

His eyes were not cold now; they were blazing, a stormy grey inferno of rage and raw, unrestrained lust.

He saw my fear, the way my body trembled, and something in his expression cracked.

The control was gone.

“You heard every filthy word, didn't you?” he snarled, his face inches from mine.

“You stood there and listened, and you got wet from it. Didn’t you?”