The door clicked shut. Georgina’s breath caught sharply as her fingers slid beneath the man's shirt, palms gliding over the hard planes of his abdomen. Heat surged through her, intensified by wine—or whatever had blurred her better judgment.
“You really think this is a good idea?” he teased softly, catching her wrist gently, his voice tinged with amused warning. "Because, sweetheart, this is the kind of mistake you'll remember fondly in the morning."
Georgina didn't answer, instead pressing her lips to his throat, feeling his pulse quicken beneath her mouth. He stiffened, just for a moment.
“You’re playing with fire,” he growled.
Ignoring him, she tugged off his tie, silencing his protest with a kiss that left no room for second thoughts.
With a low curse, he gripped her hips, flipping her onto the bed. The mattress groaned beneath their weight. “Last chance, sweetheart,” he warned, breath ragged against her lips.
Georgina arched her back defiantly, winding her legs around his waist.
Fine. He wouldn’t hold back now.
Pain. It was the first thing she registered—a dull throb behind her eyes and a heavy lethargy through her limbs, as if she’d been drugged.
Groaning, Georgina forced one eye open, then the other. The ceiling above was unfamiliar, sterile. Sheets scented faintly with cologne—and unmistakably with sex.
Where the hell am I?
Her mind felt clouded, reality fuzzy at the edges. Slowly, her identity came back to her. As she shifted uncomfortably, a sharp ache between her legs made her wince.
Something warm brushed against her arm. Breathing. Alive.
Her heart raced into her throat. Turning her head carefully, she froze.
This man beside her had to be a hallucination—an impossibly perfect one. His face seemed sculpted by gods, jaw sharply defined, the high bridge of his nose flawless, his dark eyebrows thick and arched perfectly. His lashes—God, she wished hers were half as beautiful—rested against chiseled cheekbones.
Cautiously, she reached out, poking gently at his full, tempting lips. Suddenly, his eyes flew open. Her brown eyes met intense, feral gray ones, sending a primal jolt of fear through her chest.
Georgina screamed, loud enough to shatter glass, jolting upright. Simultaneously, the man shot up, muscles tense, eyes narrowing in alert confusion.
Frantically, she realized she was clad only in delicate lingerie, barely covering anything. She clutched at herself, panic rising.
"Who the hell are you?" she yelled, cheeks flushed with fury and embarrassment. "What are you doing in my bed, you perv?"
Before he could reply, memories crashed into her mind like relentless waves. Yesterday with Megan—the bridal shop, choosing the perfect Vera Wang gown adorned with crystals, champagne laughter, and promises of friendship. Megan’s strange laughter echoed cruelly.
"That's right, Gina. Go ahead, humiliate yourself. Imagine Austin’s face when he sees his sweet, innocent fiancée begging for another man's touch. You’ll finally realize just how worthless you really are..."
Nausea churned inside Georgina. Megan, her best friend, had betrayed her cruelly.
The man beside her spoke, deep and wary. "Are you alright?"
She glared at him, fury bubbling up within her. Megan had set this trap, drugging her to be taken by this man. His striking features, his captivating gray eyes, his sculpted body—none of it made him less of a monster.
She grabbed the closest object—a pillow—and swung it fiercely, punctuating each strike with rage-filled accusations.
"You disgusting bastard!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with fury and humiliation. "You took advantage of me! I swear I'll drag you through hell. You won't see the outside of a prison cell for a very long time!"
The man caught the pillow effortlessly, tossing it aside with an unnatural strength that left her shaking.
His eyes darkened dangerously. "It was all you last night, princess. You practically clawed at me, begging for it. You weren't unconscious—I didn't have to force anything. Go ahead, go to the police. But we both know the truth."
Tears spilled from her eyes, unstoppable. Glancing down, she saw the blood on the sheets and sobbed harder, realizing painfully it had been her first time. Austin, bedridden for years after an accident, had lovingly waited. Now, her innocence was gone, stolen by a stranger.
The man's gaze followed hers, noticing the blood. Shock softened his expression.
He hesitated, jaw tightening visibly. "Listen—I didn’t know. If I'd realized..." He trailed off, visibly uncomfortable. "Look, I'll do whatever it takes to make things right. Just tell me how."
Georgina laughed bitterly. "What, can you give me back my innocence?"
He paused awkwardly, clearly at a loss for words. For the first time, Klaus found himself speechless, shaken by the raw intensity in her eyes.
"Get out," she hissed fiercely, her voice trembling but determined. "Now—or I swear, I'll kill you myself."
He rose swiftly, calmly buttoning his shirt despite the fiery anger radiating from her. Just before he exited, he smoothly drew out a business card, offering it with a faintly amused smile.
"If you change your mind...call me. I always keep my promises, princess."
She snatched it viciously, tearing it apart right before his eyes. "Get. Out!"
He left without another word, though the sharp, anguished sound of her sobs behind the closed door sliced deeply into him, twisting his heart with unexpected regret.
Outside, Klaus breathed deeply, savoring the chill of New York’s night air, letting it clear the turmoil within. Two men in sleek suits approached respectfully.
"Prince Klaus," they greeted in unison.
Klaus didn't break stride, his security detail silently falling in behind him. Despite the usual confidence that surrounded him, tonight he felt strangely unsettled, haunted by the fierce vulnerability in her eyes.
As Alpha of the Nightflower Pack and heir apparent to the throne of werewolves, Klaus was accustomed to admiration and longing glances from countless she-wolves. Wherever he went, he effortlessly drew attention.
Yet this human girl—was inexplicably different. He needed to understand why her scent stirred something primal and unfamiliar within him.
"Find out everything about her," Klaus commanded softly, eyes intense yet distant. "I want every detail on my desk by tomorrow morning."
"Of course, Alpha," his guards replied instantly.
A sleek Range Rover glided to a halt beside him. Klaus slid smoothly into the leather interior, his thoughts entirely consumed by the mysterious woman who had so unexpectedly disrupted his perfectly controlled world. A strange intuition whispered that their paths would soon collide again, and Klaus found himself oddly eager for that moment.
