Chapter 4

[Amelia's POV]

He's gorgeous. Like, movie-star gorgeous. The kind of man who makes you forget how to breathe properly.

Dark brown hair that catches the afternoon sun, revealing golden highlights. Amber eyes that seem to see straight through me. He's wearing expensive casual clothes – the kind that whisper money instead of shouting it.

But it's not just his looks. There's something else. Something that makes Ashley stir restlessly inside me.

Alpha, she whispers, and my heart skips a beat.

Oh no. This is bad. This is very, very bad.

"You're here for the Silver Moon Pack audition?" His voice is smooth, confident. Like he owns the world and knows it.

"Um, yes." I was shocked. "How did you—"

I glance down at my chest. Crap. I'm still wearing the visitor badge from this morning's session. So much for being mysterious.

My fingers fidget with Mom's perfume bottle in my pocket. Please let it still be working. Please don't let him smell what I am.

But Ashley is practically purring now, and that's never a good sign when there's an Alpha around.

Breathe, I tell myself. Act normal. Whatever normal means when you're sitting next to a walking advertisement for genetic perfection.

"So how did it go?" He settles back against the bench like he has all the time in the world. "The audition, I mean."

"It went... okay, I think." My heart is doing weird fluttery things. "I made it through to tomorrow's private assessment."

"Oh, right..." His amber eyes flash with something that looks almost like gold. "I forgot about that."

"Sorry, I don't understand..." I shift slightly on the bench, trying to put some distance between us. But the Alpha scent is getting stronger.

Ashley is getting more restless by the second. Want him, she murmurs. Need him.

Shut up, I hiss back. We're not doing this.

The man's lips curve into what I can only describe as a super-charming smile. It's the kind of smile that probably gets him whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. Movie star quality. Hell, better than movie star quality.

And it makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

"You know," he says, those golden eyes scanning me from head to toe, "you really think you can get through tomorrow's audition dressed like that?"

The words hit me like a slap. "Excuse me?"

"That cheap, outdated suit. Those worn-out shoes." His voice is casual, almost conversational. Like he's commenting on the weather instead of tearing apart my carefully assembled outfit. "Do you have any idea what the standards are like at the Pack?"

My face burns with embarrassment and anger. This morning I felt so proud of this outfit. Now this stranger – this gorgeous, infuriating stranger – is making me feel like a joke.

"Thanks for the feedback," I manage to say through gritted teeth. "But that's pretty rude."

He shrugs, completely unbothered by my offense. "If my honesty offends you, I apologize. But sugar-coating reality won't help you succeed."

I stand up, my legs a bit shaky. Whether from anger or the overwhelming Alpha presence, I'm not sure. "Well, thanks for the life advice, but I think I'll be fine."

"Sitting there pouting isn't going to improve your appearance or earn you respect at the Pack."

The dismissive tone in his voice makes me want to scream. Or hit him. Or both.

Leave, I tell myself. Just walk away.

But before I can take more than a step, his hand wraps around my wrist.

The touch sends an electric shock straight through my system. Ashley practically howls with approval. The Alpha scent intensifies, cutting through Mom's perfume like it's nothing.

Oh God.

"Wait." His grip is firm but not painful. Strong enough that I couldn't break free even if I tried. "Here."

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out what looks like a small fortune in hundred-dollar bills. More cash than I've ever seen in one place in my entire life.

"Take this. Get yourself something appropriate."

I stare at the money in shock. "I... I've never seen so much cash in my life!"

"It's not that much. Just enough for a decent outfit and maybe some basic grooming." He holds it out to me like it's pocket change.

The casual way he says it makes my anger flare even hotter. Basic grooming?

"I can't accept this!" I try to pull my wrist free, but his grip doesn't budge.

"Why not? It's a gift."

"Because..." I struggle to find words that don't make me sound completely naive. "Money should be earned through hard work!"

He looks genuinely puzzled by this concept. Like the idea of working for money is some foreign concept he's never encountered.

"It's just money. I'm not asking for anything in return."

"I can't—"

But then something in his expression shifts. The casual arrogance melts away, replaced by something much more intense. Much more dangerous.

His free hand comes up to cup my face, and suddenly we're way too close. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the rich Alpha scent that makes my knees weak.

"God," he murmurs, his thumb brushing across my cheek. "You have no idea what you do to me."

And then his lips are on mine.

The kiss is everything I didn't know I was hungry for. Warm and demanding and absolutely devastating. My heart pounds so hard I'm surprised it doesn't burst right out of my chest.

His tongue slides into my mouth, exploring, claiming. I can taste mint and something darker, something that makes Ashley purr with satisfaction.

Yes, she practically shouts. This. This is what we need.

The Alpha scent wraps around me completely now, cutting through every defense Mom's perfume provided. I feel exposed, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

But I can't make myself care.

When he deepens the kiss, I'm lost. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away like any sane person would do.

His tongue tangles with mine, and I swear I see stars behind my closed eyelids. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive, singing with a need I don't fully understand.

Mine, Ashley whispers, and for once, I don't argue with her.