I have to turn this around.

It rolls on repeat in my head, I've said too much to soon. I had grown confident in my time with Tonic, concocting my plan to use Gena to spy on Caspian, I had felt as if I were in control only to realize that I had only been playing with minor characters. The true mastermind, the true threat, was here before me.

I struggle for words; I can't breathe with the inferno that is his skin. "You're going to need to form an alliance." Convince him.

"With whom?" he demands.

I blink to clear my head. I've never experienced anything like him. My body threatens to bow in response to his presence, wishing to return to my coping mechanism, wishing to gain use of this pent up male aggression. "The rebellion. You can help each other; they aren't here to kill the Lycans. They want the same things you do, to see the fall of Ziduri and order restored."

He takes a step back to consider this and I gulp in fresh, cool air. "Take me to them." The threat is real, his voice a terrifying amount of calm.

This is what I was afraid of. This is what Sota and Tonic had warned me about. "You can't hurt them. They aren't a threat to you but they could be an ally." I stay strong in my tone; I won't allow them to be slaughtered.

Alpha draws closer again, I smell the sweet scent of pine and lavender soap. His lips near my ear, his voice a sultry hum and he speaks to me in a tone that no man has any right to utter to another man. "I don't think you are in the position to tell me what I'm allowed to do."

He is so painfully close to me, I can feel his heartbeat and see the coils of muscle under his tanned skin. My hands slowly come to rest on his chest. The warmth is comforting to my chilled fingers; I gaze upon him with my own dark eyes, the familiarity of my position coming to the forefront of my consciousness.

My comfort had come from familiarity. I had dealt with plenty of powerful men, my school had been full of them, maybe this would be how I helped my people. "Talk with them. Hear what they have to say."

I carefully tighten my fingers on the thin material of his shirt as his body stiffens, wary of me. I keep my expression soft as my plan begins to form in my head, I know what is needed of me to bring him to my side. My mind races back to that moment in the bathroom, where he had asked my consent, where he had so passionately pressed me up against the wall with every intention of fulfilling his basic desires. The desire for me, the hunger for what I had to offer him.

Stretching up on my toes, I press my lips cautiously to his. He hesitates and I wonder if he will pull away. I'd been wrong before, there weren't many men who shared my unique perversion and if they did, it wasn't often they dared kiss with another man nor was it my preference.

The majority of men found comfort in the soft submission of our cultured, schooled women. Even if the forbidden desire was there, the inexperience and bravado often ruined the encounter once lips were involved.

With what appears to be great restraint, he meets my kiss and deepens it to invade my mouth with his tongue. Even when it's my idea, he is the Alpha and he fights for control of the situation.

The stubble of his jaw sends a shiver of excitement down my spine, I could pretend as though it was only in service that I perform these tasks, but the thrill of the unknown never failed to send me into an almost euphoric state. It is my disgust with the pleasure I take in the act that sends me spiralling when the deed is done.

I hold my own against him as my hand travels up to fist in his hair which elicits a low growl from him. My heart rate skyrockets as I loosen my grip with a gasp. I'm lifted onto the table and brought up to his height. His hips are between my legs and I feel his arousal pressed against me through the thin material of his pants. "What're you doing to me?" He murmurs against the junction of my neck and jaw.

The uttered words almost bring me to pause, I hesitate as my fingers trail through his thick hair and for a moment, he's almost human. I remind myself promptly that he killed my parents and any sympathy plummets. My body takes over and I'm fighting to get his shirt unbuttoned.

He's pulling my vest off my shoulders, hurried in his movements. I freeze and stop him as his hands find my stomach. My eyes shoot open and I hold my breath. "Leave the shirt on." It's not a request but a plea.

He regards me for a moment and I know he's filing this away for later but he leaves it, choosing instead to focus on the removal of my pants. I'm grateful, not all men are so courteous of my strange boundary. I shove his shirt off his body, fingers skating over his muscular abdomen, as he removes his own pants. His hard body captures the warmth of the dimming lights.

The darkness hides his scars well and I wonder if it would do the same for mine. I remind myself that this is my show as I stand, capturing his lips with mine. I push him back towards the structure, using his height to my advantage to make him sit on the edge. Taking him in my mouth boldly, I make an assertive amount of eye contact as he writhes under my skilled tongue.

I'm experienced enough to know the usefulness of preparation. We are locked in a silent war, fighting for control of this situation and succumbing to the other's desirable traits as if they were blows of battle. Little did he know he was dueling with a veteran in the art of temptation.

Satisfied with my work, I climb the table to straddle his hips.

Alpha places a series of kisses down my jaw and I flinch as he reaches my neck; a cold chill runs up my spine as he runs his tongue over my bruises. I groan, shoving my hand in his face in protest. "Don't." I don't need to be loved, I don't want to be loved. There's no need to pretend that he cares about me, that he longed to do anything other than taste my flesh for his own satisfaction.

I shove the offensive man back on the table and pin him beneath me. He's breathless and bewildered, I'm in my domain and he was merely my prisoner. Keeping my gaze firmly locked on his, I lower myself onto his length and groan at the fullness. I'm not used to him, I go slow as I wait for my body to adjust and shut my eyes. He writhes beneath me; I hear him growl a pleasurable sound low in his throat.

My confidence returns as I start to move, my nails dig into his chest at the mixed emotions of ungodly pleasure and shame that I'm once again using my body to get what I want. When I'm here, on top of a man, I feel powerful. I feel as though nobody can hurt me, I feel in control in a world that I seem to have very little say in.

I'd never felt attractive, never felt desirable, as many women as visited our home it had always seemed as if they knew something was wrong with me. Something alluded to my preferences, something gave away my hidden shame, that I was not only perverted but that I wished to lie with men.

Alpha startles me as he suddenly sits up and we are face to face once more, I watch him with wide uncertain eyes. My cheeks are hot; I pant and take in his piercing blue eyes as my hands fist in his hair. His arms wrap around me and I moan into his mouth as our lips find each other. I clutch him to me as I climb and increase my pace. He moves back against me, no longer battling for control, no longer fighting for position.

He feels so good beneath me; his warmth no longer suffocates me but draws me closer. I'm lost to what my motives were, my fingers tug at his soft gray hair and I manage a smile at the noise I'm rewarded with.

Why am I not surprised that he likes it a little rough?

Why am I not surprised that I do, too?

His stubbled jaw teasing my skin, the sound he makes driving me closer and closer to the edge.

His hand moves to my hip to encourage me, I know he's close and I'm chasing my release as his mouth finds my nipple. My body shudders, I cry out as I finish and he follows after me as he clutches me firmly.

I collapse onto him while I wait to catch my breath. My arms are loosely around his neck, my face buried into the side of his jaw. I carefully slide off and cringe as I'm sore and achy; the table has not been kind to my knees. I find my pants and pull them on, as does he though he forgoes the shirt.

Adjusting my clothes, I fasten my pants with an airy sigh. "Now. As we were saying?" I press, unwilling to lose any of the momentum I had gained. Normally, I would have done this discussion during the act but, much to my surprise, I had found myself quite taken with the experience. It had completely slipped my mind to interrogate him.

He regards me suspiciously as if I were fulfilling some judgment he'd already made long before I parted my lips. Annoyed by the assumption, I cut him off with a bold statement. "I will help you find the rebellion but you must agree to speak with them before you pass judgment. They could be helpful." Why should I care how he regards me, what he thinks of me? I already know his thoughts, he surely says them often enough.

His expression is unreadable, ever the steel trap of emotional distancing.

"Fine." Is all I get on the matter. "Take this plate back to the kitchen. It's late, you should go to bed."

I take the plate and move to leave, only to pause as I watch him return to his papers. "Would you eat some if I ate it first?" The hesitation would cause me to smile if I wasn't disgusted with my own caring for this man. It must be the after-effects of getting a release that drives me to wish him to eat.

"Why does it matter to you?" His guarded expression causes me to sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

"Why does it matter to you?" I retort.

We are both unwilling to give up any information and I'm satisfied with that as he gestures towards a piece of bread and I roll my eyes as I snag a slice of the loaf and take a bite defiantly. The amusement glints in his eyes as he does the same only with a piece of meat as well. "Is the meat poisoned?" He questions, taking a sarcastic sniff of the offered meal.

While I wished it was, I don't think trying such measures would end successfully for me. "No. I don't eat meat."

Alpha regards me as if suddenly everything makes sense and I glare at him only to finish chewing down the bread and wishing I'd brought water. He hands me a burgled bottle of wine and while I'd like to be upset, I uncork it and take a heavy swig.

Sitting here in silence with the man who killed my family, after doing what I'd done, I'm met with the overbearing sense of guilt once more. "Did they suffer?" I ask finally.

"They?" The cold tone almost insulting, I wait, crossing my arms over my chest as I stare into the rumbling fireplace. The ever-changing flame used to be so comforting, now it taunts me with its ability to be anything it desired. Why couldn't I change? Why did I have to have a default that most found so offensive?

Finally, I earn a moment of decency as I down another gulp. "No. I didn't kill your siblings, Beta did and he's not one to allow things to suffer."

Things. My family, my siblings, were things. "Oh."

He doesn't know what to do with me, it seemed fitting as I didn't know what to do with myself. I must have reminded him of whatever he saw in me that caused him to comfort me in the bathroom, while he doesn't touch me this time, I feel the relaxation in the air as he forces the calm to replace the heavy. "It's a pride thing for him. They went quickly."

I couldn't explain why he felt the need to reassure me, why he even thought to keep me alive, how could have known who or what I was? It wouldn't matter, none of it would matter, I couldn't use the book even if I did find it. But, as I stand here, listening to him, I did want to find it.

I could see the path solidifying, what I must do to get through this. If I found the book, if I found a way to use this, I could stop this and stop him. Sparing him a sideways glance, refusing to allow myself to succumb to the thought that he offered my siblings mercy, I stiffly nod and hand him back the wine bottle. "Well. Should we arrange to meet with the rebellion?"

Regain control, keep him following your lead, lead from the bottom. I chant my mantra.

"Tomorrow." His tone is final. It would appear I'm not the only one who wants to be alone. "We will discuss this more tomorrow."