Chapter Four

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Ashelin's blood roared in her ears. She had to play this very, very carefully. In all of the scenarios they'd run, in all of the contingency plans, none had covered Nolan finding her out so quickly. In most of the hypothetical situations, she could play on a pre-existing relationship.

But right now? There was no relationship. Nothing except for their electricity on the beach. An electricity that still zinged through her despite the trepidation roiling in her gut like a storm.

She opened her eyes, her breath catching at the sight of him, leaning casually against the wall as if this were any normal meeting. His luscious skin glistened beneath a white button-down shirt, the top few undone so his chest could peek out at her, tease her. She wondered what he tasted like, and then her brain caught up and reminded her he'd asked her an important question.

She purposely didn't clear her throat so that her voice was hoarse. "I'm here as an Offering." She wasn't yet sure to play more fearful or more confident, so she settled for a middle ground of healthy nervousness.

Nolan tongued the inside of his cheek, regarding her with a steely gaze that she couldn't discern. It wasn't cold and calculating, it wasn't thoughtful, it wasn't angry...it just...was. Something flashed for a split second, like a solar flare in his eyes, but it was gone before she could take it in.

"See, I don't believe you." He held up his hand, inspecting his fingernails in a ludicrously casual display. "There is absolutely nothing about you that is, was, or will ever be omega."

Fuck. She'd tried. She'd tried so hard, taken all the precautions, literally became an omega specifically to avoid this. She could protest. She could act flabbergasted, beg him to believe that she'd always been at the bottom of her pack.

But he felt it, sensed it, somehow. And if he could sniff that out, then lying to him was going to be a thousand times more difficult.

"There's no law against Offerings not being omega," she said weakly, struggling to keep her composure.

He hooked a thumb into one of his pockets. "No, but it's rare. Much of you is rare." He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and then let it go with a squeaking pop. "I don't trust rare."

The way his mouth curled around his rs made Ashelin's throat thick. It was clear that he desired her, and despite said desire fueling his suspicion, it was the only thing she could use. But how, without digging her grave deeper?

Well aren't you dangerous, Nolan had said. This was what he'd meant. In crafting the perfect little Offering, she'd unknowingly become too perfect. Suspiciously so.

He stalked towards her, each step deliberate and powerful. Any semblance of casualness had evaporated. Dominance rolled off of him in waves, but somehow he wasn't exerting it on her. It ghosted over her skin, like a teasing kiss, so close but not quite touching.

He reached up, taking the chain in his hand and unclipping her collar. "Don't move."

His command left no room for argument, despite the fact he wasn't properly exerting his dominance over her wolf. Her thighs quivered as he let the chain hang, then took the sheer fabric of her robe at the shoulders and lifted it.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he ever-so-gently removed the one thin garment that separated her naked body from the rest of the world.

"This is an exquisite piece of history." He folded the robe neatly, and brought it around the corner into the parking lot, setting it down out of sight. "Its authenticity isn't in question, unlike where you got it from."

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