"Who the fuck are you?!" the leader barked in frustration.
"Your Grim Reaper for tonight."
They frowned at his words. But when he stepped into the light, their faces paled in horror.
"But a deadly handsome one. Don't you agree?" Ezaar added, tilting his head. He greeted them with a sweet, innocent smirk that sent shivers skittering down their spines.
Silver hair, silver eyes. There was only one man with that striking combination: Ezaar Lian Veyrin.
A wolf made of ashes. A storm clothed in mortal skin. The youngest Alpha the world had ever seen, the Goddess's favorite — and his enemies' worst nightmare.
Under their flickering flashlights, he looked almost unreal. Wild and untamed, silver hair framed a face too cruel to be beautiful — sharp jawline, slashing cheekbones, perfect lips. His skin was pale under the moonlight, but his presence burned hotter than any fire.
And his eyes — a darker, fiercer shade of silver — glinted like polished steel. Rumors said they would turn gold whenever he was planning something devious, and right now, they shimmered like the sun's scorching rays, ready to burn them alive.
Evangeline scurried backward on the muddy ground, hugging her shivering body. Her thin bra barely shielded her from the harsh cold. It was the right time to flee, but her body had no strength. Her head spun like she was trapped inside an earthquake, her vision blurry and swaying. She could barely form a clear picture of her savior—whatever he was, she was grateful he had appeared just in time.
But something inside her shifted. Deep within her soul, something stirred — something that had once lived, only to be buried under layers of guilt, regret, and manipulation.
For a moment, her heat cycle paused its torment, allowing her to breathe, as if it had finally found its cure. Then, a strange warmth flickered in her chest. It pulsed once — a soft, trembling light — before glowing brighter, like a firefly awakening after a long, endless winter.
Evangeline pressed a hand against it, feeling the warmth seep through her bones. Then she froze, gasping for breath.
The last time she had felt this light was when she met her first mate.
"Run!" the leader shouted to his men before shifting into his wolf form.
His voice snapped Evangeline out of her thoughts. She watched the men turn into wolves, her eyes desperately searching for her savior amidst the chaos. Her heart hammered with hope as the light lit it up like a Christmas tree.
"Morons," Ezaar clicked his tongue in disappointment. Watching the wolves howl and scatter, he muttered, "You should be honored to die by my hands."
Ezaar turned, his silver gaze piercing through the chaos, landing on the fragile woman trembling on the ground. His wolf, the very one who had forced him to rush here, growled in recognition of their second-chance mate. But his heart twisted—not in longing, but in fury at the cruel twist of fate. The Moon Goddess was playing a sick prank on him!
Taking a steady breath, he stepped toward her, his jaw tightening as he fought against his wolf's primal growl. He took off his shirt and wrapped it around her fragile form, his gesture worsening the storm brewing between them.
Evangeline's heat, which had been calm for a brief moment, roared back to life. The mere brush of his fingers set her skin ablaze, craving more for his touch, more for him. She squinted up at him, trying hard to get a clear view through the haze. Was he her third chance mate? Without her wolf, she couldn't recognize the bond like he could.
"Stay right here," Ezaar ordered, his voice low and rough.
Without waiting for her reply, he disappeared into the woods, his wolf hungry for the bastards' blood who had dared to touch her.
Evangeline clung onto his shirt tightly, inhaling the scent that wrecked her like it was dopamine. Sandalwood and warm spice. It overwhelmed her, setting her blood on fire again. The light within her dimmed the moment he left, but her heart thudded violently, the ache between her thighs intensifying like a molten volcano. The air, once still, now buzzed with her pheromones — thick and heady.
Was the Moon goddess blessing her another mate? Was he the one to cure her uncontrollable heat? Would he treat her well or mess her up like Johan did?
Questions swirled through her tired mind, but her body didn't care for answers. It wanted him. Desperately.
Minutes later, footsteps rustled through the woods. Evangeline strained her ears, forcing her blurry vision to focus.
Ezaar walked toward her, his tall frame casting a dark shadow over her. He was still in his pants; he didn't need to shift to take care of ants like them.
The light in Evangeline's chest flared to life once more as he crouched before her. She noticed a similar glow burning faintly on his chest too, indicating they were truly mates. She inched closer, her body burning for him, her heart aching to get a picture of him.
Board shoulders, a jaw sharp enough to slice, lips sculpted to perfection — and those silver eyes, faintly glowing in the darkness.
She shook her head, trying to clear her vision, and when she finally did, her eyes widened in horror. Her heart dropped.
No.... This must be a nightmare! It had to be! How the heck would she be mated to the one she had already rejected?
No, the Moon Goddess wouldn't be so cruel to tie her back to him! The bond was severed two years ago — it should be gone completely!
"This isn't... No, you are not..." Evangeline breathed out, her voice trembling. Her body burned for him, but she didn't care—not anymore, even if her heat cycle killed her tonight.
"You cannot be my third chance, mate!" she murmured in sheer shock.
"Right?" Ezaar sneered, running a frustrated hand through his hair. Groaning up at the sky, he muttered, "The Moon Goddess must really love torturing her kind. She's probably laughing her ass off right now."
Evangeline forced herself onto her shaky feet. She stumbled, and Ezaar instinctively reached out — but she recoiled, as if he were a plague.
"It doesn't matter," Evangelin managed to say, controlling her hungry heat. Looking at him, she declared, "I, Evangeline Raymore, reject you, Alpha of Solemire pack."
Even if they were mated a hundred times, she would reject him every damn time. Because he was a sinner. And she wasn't ready to be his salvation.
"I gladly accept it," Ezaar said coldly.
His wolf howled in protest, but he ignored it. She was the very reason his scars still bled, and he'd rather take a monster as his mate than her. Anyone but her.
Evangeline watched him turn and walk away. She braced herself for the pain of rejection... but strangely, it never came. Instead, the light on her chest blazed even brighter, her body screaming in agony for him, her heart doing cartwheels inside her chest. It was as though fate denied their rejection, unwilling to separate them.
Evangeline took a deep breath to steady herself. Her heat had reached its highest peak ever, wetness dripping down her thighs. His shirt did nothing good, her body wanted him to cling to it like the soft fabric.
Gritting her teeth, Evangeline staggered forward but almost lost her balance. Every inch of her body was weak from all the running, but it was still very much alive, wanting him badly. She tried to take another step, but her trembling legs gave out.
Evangeline waited to hit the ground, but instead felt a strong pair of arms hold her. She looked up and found herself in Ezaar's grasp. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't summon the strength to push him away. Her hands just didn't move, nor cared about her dignity.
Evangeline blew out ragged breaths, his fingertips sending waves of electricity through her body. Her vision was doubled, her mind barely under her control. She drank in the sight of him — the harsh cut of his muscles, the wild silver of his hair, the quiet rage in his glowing eyes — and it only made her heat worse.
She had no fucking idea how it wasn't affecting him at all. Little did she know, his wolf was going berserk, urging him to mate her and he was on the brink of giving in.
Clenching his jaw, Ezaar steadied her. His hand firmly wrapped her waist, making sure she didn't fall again. He looked at the wounded woman, who looked almost drunk, drowned in desire, barely conscious, her pheromones thick around her like a storm.
"So much for-"
Ezaar didn't get to finish his sentence as Evangeline pulled him closer. Her hands circled his neck and lowered him to her height. She stared into his burning eyes for the briefest second and then, without a second thought, she captured his lips.