Chapter 1
Willow’s POV
I had been Rowan’s human pet for seven years.
On paper, I was just a girl who fixed subway tracks.
But seven years ago, I was jumped on my way home from a late shift. Rowan had shifted and ripped my attackers apart, saving my life.
“Come with me,” he had growled back then. “You smell... delicious.”
That night, he marked me. As his canines sank into the scruff of my neck, he whispered against my skin, telling me I was his now—his exclusive pet.
I found out later that werewolves usually only marked their mates as a sacred vow of loyalty.
For years, I stayed by his side, soothing his feral rages and secretly dreaming that maybe he saw me as his fated mate instead of just some human tag-along.
But it was the night of the full moon, and the heat in my veins was screaming. It felt like a branding iron was being pressed into my mark over and over.
I was losing my mind from the pain, and Rowan was a total no-show.
It was midnight when he finally kicked the door open. He reeled of the woods—wild, musky, and smelling of fresh blood. And he was carrying a she-wolf in his arms.
I was curled up on sweat-soaked sheets, my body literally convulsing because I needed his pheromones to stabilize.
I craved his touch; even a finger grazing my skin would have silenced the fire inside me.
But he didn’t even look at me. He walked right past my bed, laid the she-wolf down gently, and roared for Silas, the old omega butler, to get in there and check her over.
Silas glanced at me with a flicker of pity. “Alpha Rowan... Willow needs your scent. She’s struggling.”
“I don’t have time for a human right now!” Rowan snapped. His pupils were blown wide, glowing a frantic green in the dark. “She’s not going to die. Tell her to suck it up.”
I bit my lip until I tasted copper. I was human; I didn’t have a wolf’s self-control. I knew if I didn’t do something, the burning would snap my brain.
I grabbed a small knife from the nightstand and dragged it across my forearm. The sharp sting worked. The physical pain finally drowned out the agony of the mark.
After hours of shaking in the dark, the fire finally burned itself out.
Lying in a pool of my own blood, I used the last of my strength to grab my comm-stone and send a message.
“I’m in. I’ll get him to break the mark within three days. He’s all yours.”
When I woke up the next morning, my arm had been crudely bandaged. The suffocating Alpha aura was gone, replaced by the faint scent of mint and tobacco.
Silas must have found me.
I struggled to my feet and threw on a heavy oversized hoodie to hide the gashes on my arms.
I was heading out to thank Silas when I ran into Rowan in the hallway.
He was leaning against the railing, looking down at me with his usual cold indifference. When he saw that I could actually walk, the tiny bit of irritation in his eyes vanished.“Make breakfast,” he said. “Two plates.”
My head felt like it was filled with lead.
I had to lean against the wall just to stay upright, but he’d already turned his back on me and headed into the bedroom.
Being marked by a wolf meant my senses were sharper than a normal person’s. I caught a whiff of something new—a cloying, sweet floral scent. It had to be the she-wolf.
A few minutes later, I walked into the room carrying two plates of raw, bloody beef. It was the only thing that ever settled Rowan’s stomach after a full moon.
Rowan took one look at the plates and his face darkened.
With a flick of his wrist, he swiped the dishes off the tray. They shattered against the wall, splashing raw meat and blood all over my hoodie.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed. “Get this filth out of here!”
The noise woke the she-wolf on the bed. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and frowning.
“Rowan?” Her voice was like silk. “You know I can’t stand the smell of raw meat. It reminds me of... those unrefined rogues.”
Rowan’s entire demeanor flipped. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand, his voice dropping into a tender whisper I’d never heard before.
“I’m sorry, Lyra. I’ve spent too much time living like a savage. I forgot you’re not like us.”
Then he turned to me, his eyes turning back into ice.
“Willow, go make a real breakfast. Well-done, use some herbs, and use the good china. Lyra has noble blood—don’t disgust her with the way you usually feed me.”
I stood there, looking at the blood dripping off my hoodie.
I backed out of the room without a word. Just before I closed the door, I heard Lyra ask him if I was a wolf, too.
“No, she’s just a pet I picked up,” Rowan replied, like he was talking about a stray dog.
“I needed a human scent to dampen my feral side during the war, so I marked her. But don’t worry—pets are replaceable. I’d never let a human get in your way.”
So that was it. I was never a mate. I was a dampener. A tool. A “replaceable” object.
I stumbled back to the kitchen, peeled off my ruined clothes, and ripped away the soaked bandages.
I turned the tap to cold and let the water hit the cuts on my arm. The sting was the only thing that made me feel like I was still there.
