For a mont, Sofia was speechless. First, Alpha Alaric was too close to her. And second... that look in his eyes. It wasn’t a look of hate or of soone who already believed she was a murderer; it was a look of care, worry, and concern. But she shook it off, thinking she was imagining things.
"I didn’t kill her. "What happened was an accident. But I know you won’t believe either."
Alaric’s eyes sharpened instantly. His gut told him she was telling the truth, and his gut never lied. Realizing his presence was suffocating her, he pulled away and went for the glass of juice. Alaric took a long, slow sip of the juice, his back turned to her. He needed a mont to regain his composure. He was a man who had led armies and survived the most brutal coups in werewolf history, yet he was currently fighting the urge to pull this girl into his arms and promise to burn the whole world down if it ant seeing her smile.
"I’ve spent my life surrounded by liars, Sofia," he said, his voice deep and resonant. He turned back to her, his massive fra silhouetted by the mountain sun streaming through the window. "I know the scent of guilt. It’s sour. It’s sharp. You don’t sll like guilt. You sll like... grief."
Sofia’s breath hitched. No one—not once in the past weeks—had acknowledged that she was grieving, too. They had only focused on her "cri," never realizing she had lost her sister, her family, and her freedom all in one night.
"You believe ?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Just like that? You don’t even know ."
Alaric set the glass down and stepped toward her again, though this ti he kept a respectful distance. His eyes road over her voluptuous fra, noting how the cheap cotton of the maid’s uniform strained against her ample chest and curvy hips. He felt a surge of protectiveness so strong it nearly made him shift.
"I know enough," he said firmly. "Damien is blinded by his own pain. He’s turned his grief into a whip, and he’s using it on you. But I am not Damien."
He reached out, his large, scarred hand hesitating before he gently tucked a stray, blond curl behind her ear. His fingers brushed against her chubby, flushed cheek, and the touch was so unexpectedly tender that Sofia flinched, then leaned into it despite how hard she tried not to.
"If it was an accident," Alaric continued, his gaze piercing hers, "then there must be proof. Evidence that was overlooked or hidden."
Sofia’s eyes widened. "Are you going to help prove my innocence?"
Alaric nodded without hesitation.
Sofia couldn’t tear her eyes away. Up close, Alaric was breathtaking in a way that felt unreal. His hair was a striking, snowy white—not from age, but a mark of his rare lineage—and his eyes were the sa piercing erald green as Damien’s. Despite knowing he was well into his forties, he possessed the raw, pri physique of a man a decade younger. His jaw was dusted with silver stubble, and his presence was so grounded and masculine that it made her head swim.
Alaric noticed her gaze lingering on the broad spread of his shoulders and the way his shirt stretched over his powerful chest. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his scarred lips—the first sign of humor she had seen on his face.
"Are you quite done staring, little bird?" he teased, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling hum that vibrated right through her.
Sofia’s face turned a deep crimson, her chubby, flushed cheeks burning with embarrassnt. She quickly dropped her gaze to the floor.
"I-I’m sorry, Alpha. I didn’t an to be disrespectful," she stamred, her chest heaving with every shallow breath.
"I didn’t say I minded," Alaric countered, stepping just an inch closer. The scent of him—ancient forests and expensive tobacco—clouded her senses. "But if Damien catches you looking at another man like that, he’ll likely tear the house down. And I’d rather keep the roof over our heads for at least one night."
He reached out, his large fingers gently but firmly cupping her chin, tilting her head back so she had no choice but to look at him. His thumb brushed against her full, trembling lower lip, and for a split second, the air in the room beca electric.
Fuck, he thought, his inner wolf pacing with a primal, possessive growl. What is wrong with ? For the past five years, he had lived like a monk, burying his desires in war and pack politics. He had felt nothing for the endless parade of beautiful won thrown his way. But this girl—this broken, voluptuous little bird—was pressing every single button he had. Every. Single. One. The way her chest rose and fell in a panicked rhythm against the tight cotton of her dress made his blood catch fire. He wanted to claim her right here, to show her that an Alpha’s touch could be sothing other than a punishnt.
But he saw the flicker of fear in her sea-blue eyes, and his honor won the battle against his hunger. If he kissed her now, he was no better than Damien, taking advantage of a girl who had nowhere else to run.
"Leave," he said, his voice dropping into a guttural, strained rasp. He forced himself to drop his hand, his skin stinging from the loss of contact. "Leave now, Sofia, before I forget my own damn advice."
Sofia didn’t need to be told twice. She felt the raw, sexual heat radiating off him—a mountain of a man who looked like he was barely holding back a storm. She turned and scrambled toward the door, her thick thighs brushing together as she hurried out, her heart hamring so hard she could feel it in her throat.
As the door clicked shut, Alaric slamd his fist into the stone wall beside the window. He didn’t care about the pain. He needed to clear the scent of her out of his head—that intoxicating mix of honey, rain, and the faint, lingering musk of Damien’s scent that made him want to rip his nephew’s throat out.
He stood there for a long ti, watching the snow begin to fall over the mountain peaks. He had made a promise to prove her innocence, but he realized with a sinking gut feeling that his motives weren’t purely just. He didn’t just want her free; he wanted her for himself.
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