Erin’s POV
I stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the empty space where Derek had just been, my fingers gripping the doorframe so tightly my knuckles turned white.
My heart pounded violently in my chest, each beat sending blood rushing through my veins, making me dizzy. My brain was still struggling to process what had just happened, especially those final words that had fallen from his lips.
“I’m sorry.
In all the time I’d known Derek Stone, I never imagined those words existed in his vocabulary. The leader of the Darkwood Pack, the most powerful werewolf in the dark forest territory, apologizing to me–an Omega. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
This was the same man who had publicly humiliated me, thrown photographs at my face, and threatened never to see me again, now uttering words that seemed impossible coming from him. My wolf nearly spun with excitement inside me, making it difficult to stand steady.
My fingers traced my cheek where his tongue had gently brushed over the bruise that was now completely gone. The ghost of his warm, wet tongue against my skin lingered, sending heat spreading from my neck to my chest.
I pressed my thighs together, trying to ignore the tingling warmth that had settled in my core. My wolf shifted restlessly beneath my skin, pleased with the Alpha’s attention, almost whimpering with
satisfaction.
The bathroom door suddenly banged open, startling me from my thoughts. I jumped, hand flying to my chest as Amy burst in, her eyes wide with excitement and confusion, cheeks flushed with
curiosity.
“Oh my god! Did I see that right? Pack Alpha Derek was here? With you? Did he lock you in here? What were you two doing?” The questions tumbled rapidly from her mouth, each one growing louder
than the last.
She grabbed my shoulders, scanning me from head to toe, her gaze lingering on my obviously disheveled appearance–my hair messier than when I’d entered, strands hanging loosely around my face, the neckline of my dress noticeably askew from being pressed against Derek’s chest, the fabric still retaining his body heat. I self–consciously reached up to smooth my hair, but my hands were trembling.
“No kiss marks?” Amy asked with a playful smile, tilting my head to check my neck, her fingers cool against my heated skin. “Don’t tell me he’s too proper to mark you even when you’re alone together.
1/3
God, you’re practically glowing.”
“Amy!” I raised my voice, my cheeks burning so intensely I had to look away from my reflection. “Nothing happened!”
“No?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Then why did he apologize to you?”
I froze. “You heard that?”
Amy nodded, her expression softening. “I was standing right there, leaning against the wall outside. the restroom…when he left, he glanced in my direction. Those eyes of his…they went right through me. I think he knew I was listening. He didn’t even try to threaten me into silence.”
I leaned against the sink, suddenly feeling lightheaded, my legs unsteady beneath me. I gripped the cool porcelain edge to steady myself, my breathing shallow and rapid.
“He apologized. Derek Stone actually said he was sorry. spoke the words slowly, as if tasting an unfamiliar language on my tongue.
“You said he was too arrogant to ever say sorry, but he just broke your conception of him,” Amy said
thoughtfully. “I think h
only says sorry to people he truly cares about.”
“No, it’s not like that,” I insisted, shaking my head so vigorously that loose strands of hair fell across my face. “He just felt guilty for wrongly accusing me. It was obligation, not…whatever you’re thinking.”
“Then explain why he was in the women’s restroom healing your bruise,” Amy challenged, eyes sparkling with excitement. “You know how intimate healing is! We werewolves don’t just heal anyone. It’s reserved for pack members, mates, and family we deeply care about, especially the way
he did it.”
I sighed, shoulders slumping, nervously tugging at the hem of my dress. “It doesn’t mean anything to him. He was just helping me because my injury was his fault.” Even as I said the words, I remembered the feeling of his tongue pressing gently against my skin, his breath hot against my cheek, the intensity in his eyes as he concentrated on healing me.
“He could have given you a bandage or some ointment,” Amy pointed out, crossing her arms. “Or sent you to the pack healer. He didn’t have to personally heal you with his saliva. He didn’t have to use his tongue against you. That was…that was instinctual, Erin. That was possessive.”
