Chapter 3 03 The Night I Tried to Forget 3

Lyra

Tonight’s Lyra wanted numbness. We sat in silence for a few minutes while music pulsed through the club. A group of young Betas moved past our table, and one of them glanced at Sienna before catching her scent and abruptly deciding not to approach. I watched him retreat.

“Being a Draven must be useful,” I remarked.

“It has its moments.”

“No one looks at you and wonders why you’re here.”

Sienna followed my gaze towards the surrounding tables. “Anyone who wonders why you’re here can choke on their own entitlement.”

“That sounds painful.”

“It’s meant to.”

I drank again, then looked towards the entrance. “Is your date actually coming?” Sienna sighed.

“You have asked me that four times.”

“It feels like six.”

“Men like Lucien Cross enjoy taking their time.”

“Men like Lucien Cross?”

“Powerful, busy and convinced the entire city will wait for them.”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

“It can be, but he makes up for it.”

Her smile left little doubt about how he did that. Sienna usually met Alpha Lucien Cross privately at his penthouse in Mooncrest Towers. Lucien was one of Greyhaven’s most powerful businessmen and controlled a corporate organisation large enough to employ thousands of people. His name appeared in financial news, charity reports and whispered conversations about the city’s ruling class.

He was the sort of Alpha who did not need traditional territory to hold power. His offices, investments and connections spread across Greyhaven more effectively than borders ever could.

Sienna had already explained the arrangement several times. Lucien called her that afternoon and requested that they meet at Eclipse instead of his penthouse. He said he would bring a friend and asked Sienna to bring someone too. That someone was unfortunately me.

“He called this afternoon,” Sienna repeated patiently. “He said he wanted an outing. He is bringing a friend, which is why you are here.”

“I remember.”

“Then why do you keep asking?”

“Because repeating questions is apparently one of the early symptoms of heartbreak.”

“I thought that was excessive wine.”

“That too.”

Nearly twenty minutes passed before a deep masculine voice cut through the music. “Sienna.”

I was sipping my wine when I looked up. I recognised Alpha Lucien Cross immediately, although I had only seen him in photographs and news reports. He was around thirty-three, perhaps younger, with auburn hair, noticeable stubble and the fit body of a man who clearly made time for more than board meetings.

He wore a tailored dark jacket over a black T-shirt and dark jeans. The clothes were casual only in the way very expensive clothes pretended to be casual.

His Alpha dominance was controlled but impossible to miss. The staff nearest our table straightened the moment he arrived, and a server appeared before he had even taken his seat. People at nearby tables looked in his direction, some with recognition and others with careful interest. Lucien appeared accustomed to both. Sienna stood and kissed his cheek.

“You took your time,” she murmured.

“I was delayed,” Lucien replied, resting one hand lightly against her waist. “You look beautiful.”

“I know.”

His mouth curved with amusement. I had to admit Sienna had an impressive clientele. Then my attention moved to the man standing beside him. Alpha Damon Blackridge was more intimidating than Lucien, which was an achievement considering who Lucien was. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair, a light tan and strong jaws covered by neatly maintained stubble. His expensive shirt fitted him perfectly, and the sleeves were rolled to his forearms as if he had made the small adjustment without caring how unfairly attractive it made him look. His tailored trousers and watch confirmed he had money, although the cold authority surrounding him would have made that obvious even if he arrived wearing torn jeans.

His eyes were dark and smouldering, but there was nothing warm in them. His Alpha presence reached me before his scent properly did. My wolf stirred, alert beneath my skin. She noticed the power in him and watched it carefully, but she did not cower. I might have been a Zeta, but I was not helpless, and Damon had done nothing except stand there looking like he disapproved of the entire nightclub.

Including me, perhaps. I could see why Sienna had called him handsome when she briefly mentioned Lucien’s friend earlier, but handsome did not cover it. Damon Blackridge was the kind of man people noticed even when they wished they had not. He seemed capable of looking through someone and exposing every insecurity they had desperately tried to hide. I immediately disliked him for it. Where did Sienna find these men?

“Lyra,” Sienna began, placing one hand against my shoulder, “this is Alpha Lucien Cross.”

Lucien looked at me and inclined his head. “It’s good to meet you, Lyra.”

“You too,” I replied.

“And this is his friend, Alpha Damon Blackridge,” Sienna continued. “Damon, this is Lyra Hart. She’s the friend I brought because Lucien asked me to bring one.”

Damon’s gaze rested on me for no more than a second. He nodded. That was all. No smile. No greeting. Not even the basic courtesy of pretending he was pleased to meet me.

Then he pulled out a chair and sat down. I stared at the side of his face as he removed his phone from his pocket. Proud and disrespectful. Wonderful. Apparently, one wealthy man had not irritated me enough today. The universe had decided I needed another ruling-class wolf with a stick lodged firmly up his backside.

Lucien sat beside Sienna while Damon took the seat opposite me. A server arrived almost instantly with a bottle of whisky Lucien had not needed to request aloud. Another employee cleared the empty glasses from our table and replaced them so quickly I barely noticed his hands moving.

That was what influence looked like in Greyhaven. It was not always loud. Sometimes it was an entire room adjusting itself around two men before either of them asked. Lucien poured a drink and offered it to Damon.

“Have one,” he urged.

“No,” Damon replied without looking up from his phone.

“Then at least pretend you came here willingly.”

Damon typed something before answering. “I came because you insisted.”

“And you’re making me regret it.”

“You’ll survive.”

Sienna laughed, and Lucien shook his head. For the next hour, I drank, watched people and listened to Sienna and Lucien talk. They spoke about restaurants, business events and people whose names I vaguely recognised from the financial pages. Lucien included me in the conversation when he could, asking what I did and whether I liked Eclipse.

I answered politely while carefully avoiding any mention of why I had come. Damon remained focused on his phone. Messages kept appearing on the screen. He replied to some, ignored others and took one brief call away from the table. From the clipped tone of his voice, it was clearly business. He sounded like a man accustomed to giving instructions and having them followed before he finished speaking.

I knew Damon Blackridge’s name, of course. Most people in Greyhaven did. He was an Alpha CEO from one of the ruling families, and the Blackridge organisation had interests across finance, technology and private security. That explained the attention he attracted. It did not excuse his manners. Lucien tried several times to drag him into the conversation.

“Damon, Sienna was asking about the new development near the river,” Lucien told him.

“Then answer her,” Damon replied.

“You own part of it.”

“I own many things.”

I rolled my eyes into my glass. His gaze lifted briefly, and for one uncomfortable second, those dark eyes met mine. I did not look away. Perhaps alcohol made me braver, or perhaps Tristan had used up all my patience for arrogant men. Damon returned his attention to his phone without comment. Rude. When another drink arrived, Lucien pushed it towards him.

“You haven’t touched anything.”

“I don’t want a drink.”

“You don’t want a conversation either.”

“Correct.”

Lucien eventually gave up and let him be. Time became difficult to measure after that. The music seemed to sink deeper into my body while the blue lights blurred around the edges. The Pinot remained sweet, and every glass made Tristan’s face a little less clear.

That was reason enough to continue. Another hour passed. Sienna and Lucien stood at almost the same time, exchanging a look that made their intentions obvious.

“Where are you...” I began.

Before I could finish, Sienna bent down and squeezed my hand. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “Have fun.”

Her gaze flickered towards Damon. I nearly laughed. Have fun with Damon Blackridge? The man had spent the last two hours behaving as if speaking to us would reduce the value of his company. I would have had a better chance of having fun with one of the security officers. At least they occasionally moved.

Sienna straightened before I could protest. Lucien placed his hand at the small of her back, and they disappeared towards a private section of the club.

That left Damon and me alone. The silence between us was uncomfortable despite the noise surrounding the table. Damon sat across from me, still absorbed in his phone, while I stared into my glass and refused to chase his attention.

If he wanted silence, he could have it. I drank. Without Sienna and Lucien’s conversation, I became more aware of Damon’s presence. His scent was controlled, dark and sharp, carrying the cold authority of a powerful Alpha. My wolf remained awake beneath my skin, not frightened, merely watchful.

I hated that I noticed him at all. I hated that even blurred by alcohol and wounded by Tristan, I could still admit Damon was the most attractive man I had ever seen. It felt disloyal to my heartbreak, which was ridiculous since Tristan had not shown the same loyalty to me while naked in bed with Chloe.

The thought made me drink again. Minutes passed. Perhaps more than minutes.

The music gradually sounded farther away, as if someone had wrapped the nightclub in thick fabric. The lights stretched into long blue lines whenever I moved my head too quickly. I knew I had crossed the line between pleasantly numb and completely drunk, but the knowledge arrived far too late to be useful. Damon finally placed his phone on the table.

“You should stop drinking,” he told me.

His voice was deep and calm. It was also the first complete sentence he had directed at me all night. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You do speak.”

His expression did not change. “You’ve had enough.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“You didn’t.”

“Good.”

I lifted my glass, although the table seemed to shift beneath my hand. Damon watched me for a moment before looking away.

I finished what remained because I was stubborn and because Chloe’s voice had returned to my head. A dreamer. A Zeta from nowhere. Grateful that Tristan had noticed me at all. My chest tightened, but the pain felt distant now. Everything felt distant. The crowd had become a sea of colours and scents that no longer belonged to individual people. I tried to focus on the table, then on Damon’s face, but even he refused to remain completely still.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, although I could not remember whether he had asked.

Damon’s dark eyes settled on me. “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“That’s good because I am.”

He did not argue. At some point, I decided I needed to stand. I could not remember why. Perhaps I wanted to find Sienna. Perhaps I needed the bathroom. Perhaps I had simply forgotten that standing required balance. I placed both hands against the table and pushed myself up. The floor moved. A strong hand closed around my arm before I could fall, and another settled firmly at my waist. The final thing I remembered was Damon helping me to my feet.