"Alpha."

I faded out of the dark and into consciousness. My eyelids were too heavy, but I quickly did inventory on the rest of my body. I was lying on my stomach, a heavy blanket on top of me, softly tickling my bare back. I quickly realized I didn't have on a shirt or a bra. My jeans had been replaced with leggings or yoga pants. My hands were bandaged, as was my right arm.

"Alpha."

I swallowed, but didn't respond. After moment, I realized I didn't have to. It wasn't me they were addressing. "Leave us, John." His voice lifted my heart and made my bones shiver with delight despite the pain radiating through my body.

"I just came to tell you that the principal has been notified. He's sending false notifications to human families on why the school is closed for one day. We should be done by noon." John paused, as if waiting for Alpha Alexander's response, but when none came, he continued, "She's awake."

I thought John was talking about me until Alpha Alexander asked harshly, "Has she said anything?"

John hesitated again. "So far, all she's done is laugh and say how much she underestimated your mate. Beta Seth is contacting local packs to see where she belonged before going rogue. The more information we have on her, the better our chances of getting her to talk."

I could practically hear John give Alpha Alexander a stiff but respectful bow as he finished, "Whenever you're ready, Alpha."

Alpha Alexander must have made a gesture to dismiss John because a door closed softly a moment later. I heard a heavy sigh before the blanket lifted from my back. Cold air brushed against my bare skin, causing goosebumps to trail down my arms and up my neck. A large hand softly swept strands of hair away from my face.

My eyes slowly opened when the hand drew away. I was in the bedroom, laying on my side of the bed. Directly in front of me, in a chair that sat against the edge of the mattress, was Alpha Alexander. His eyes were trained on my back but they were clouded in thought, as though he was raging a mental battle with himself. His face was drawn tightly in a frown, his brow crinkled in frustration and his jaw clenched.

My hand lifted, softly poking the folds at the center of his forehead. It took him by surprise; his eyes darted to mine and his expression softened only slightly.

"Hi," I whispered hoarsely.

He took my hand in his. "How are you feeling? Do you need more painkillers?"

My body ached in response, but I didn't want him to become even more worried. I shook my head. His frown deepened and I poked it again.

"Stop it," my voice came out cracked.

His expression morphed to confusion. "What?"

"I said stop it. I don't like it when you frown." I chuckled softly. "Then again, I don't think I've ever seen you smile."

He didn't respond for a while. We stared at each other, both of us trying to decipher the other. "Do you remember what happened, Phoebe?"

I was the first to break eye contact. I thought about how to answer him. I remembered everything, but I didn't want to. The anger that had so easily flowed through me, the animal instinct to protect my mate and to kill the girl who threatened him—it frightened me. I was never a violent person. I took precautions to protect myself by learning basic self-defense and gun handling, but I never intended to purposely harm anyone unless absolutely necessary. But last night, I wanted to cause so much pain. I wanted to hear her tortured screams and I enjoyed the sight of her weak and hurt.

I decided that he could never know what I had done. At least, I couldn't tell him until I understood what had come over me. Some distant part of me knew that all the anger, the hate, and the strength came from the newly formed mate bond with Alpha Alexander, but I didn't completely understand how I was able to pull all that energy from him.

I locked eyes with him once more and softly shook my head. "I remember grabbing my stuff from my locker. Then the girl and two wolves were standing in the hallway. Jason came and that's the last thing I remember."

Jason. He knew what I had done—he had stopped me from pouring an entire beaker of acid on the girl's face. Did he tell Alpha Alexander what he had witnessed? I hoped not.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I asked softly, afraid my voice would betray my lie if I spoke too loud.

His thumb drew circles against the back of my left hand. "It's not important right now. You need rest."

I wanted to argue. Every defiant bone in my body—which was basically every bone in my body—wanted to tell him I wasn't tired or that he couldn't boss me around, but when I looked at him, when I really looked at him, I noticed more than the frown. His body language was tense and his eyes were darker than they usually were, almost completely black. His jaw clenched and unclenched, as though he was trying to control his breathing but it was getting harder and harder to remain calm.

My fingers slid from his grasp to his cheek. Ours eyes stayed locked as I let my hand explore his features—sharp jaw and high cheekbones, soft lips, slightly crooked nose. "I'm okay." I don't know what made me say it, but he reacted almost instantly. For the first time, he broke eye contact.

"You should not have been there, Phoebe. I should not have let you leave the compound."

I struggled to push myself up. I even batted away Alpha Alexander's large helping hands. Once I was upright, with a sheet across my chest and a lifetime's worth of pain blossoming on my back, I said softly, "I'm safe now . . . here, with you."

Alpha Alexander was quick to respond. "Jason shouldn't have let you go in there alone."

"Jason is the only reason I'm alive," I snapped, but with less venom than I could conjure if I was 100% healthy. "He did what he needed to in order to protect me."

Alpha Alexander gave me a long look—one that spoke a thousand words. "He should not have needed to. If you had stayed on the compound—"

"If I had stayed they would have found another way to kidnap me," I said, exasperated.

Alpha Alexander sat up, rigid and angry. "Kidnap you?"

Oh, shit. I swallowed.

"Yes," I answered. "Kidnap me. That's what she said—the girl in the hallway. Before Jason got there she implied she wanted to abduct me."

I lied to him. He couldn't know that I had tortured the girl for the information. I wished I could completely erase that gory memory, but it had happened and I needed to come to terms with it before I told him what I did and why I did it, especially when I wasn't entirely sure why I did it.

"What did she say?" he asked harshly. "What exactly did she say?"

I tried to look innocent and clueless. I gazed at him, the words flowing out of my mouth easily. "She said something about a guy named Leo and how she was taking me to see him."

Alpha Alexander was on his feet the instant the name Leo passed my lips. His eyes glazed over and I recognized that he was having a mental conversation with someone in the pack.

The door suddenly opened and Seth barged in. I barely flinched, holding the sheet tighter against my chest, but Alpha Alexander was quick to put his body directly in front of mine to shield me from Seth's view, even though I doubted Seth would be interested in seeing me half-naked.

They spoke quietly—too low for me to hear everything they said, but I picked up on a few words strung together:

"Not an isolated incident . . ."

"Rumors are true . . ."

"Increase security . . . border patrols . . ."

"Leo . . . that son of a bitch . . ."

Alpha Alexander cursed angrily, which would have shocked me if the intensity of the situation didn't shock me more. Plus, if I said anything, I was worried it would remind them I was in the room and they would move the conversation elsewhere.

"Has Alpha Jones responded?"

Seth nodded. "He's sending Ava for the conclave."

A moment of tense silence passed. It was only broken when Alpha Alexander glanced over his shoulder at me, as if finally realizing I was still in the room. "My office, ten minutes."

Seth left without a word or backwards glance at me.

Alpha Alexander turned to me. "You need to rest."

I looked down, ready to protest, but my eyes landed on the hand holding up the sheet at my chest. It was splattered in red—blood.

"I want to take a shower," I blurted. I glanced up at Alpha Alexander. I forced my voice to remain even. "I need to clean up."

He eyed me warily. "I'll send Julie up to help you."

"No," I said a little too quickly. His gaze intensified. I cleared my throat to loosen the tightness that usually came with tears. "I just need to wash off everything that happened last night. I don't want to w-wake her."

I cursed the cracking of my voice, but I made a show of drinking from the glass of water on the nightstand next to the clock that read half past five in the morning. I swallowed the water like a parched child in the middle of the Sahara.

Alpha Alexander stared at me for a moment before he nodded slowly. "I'll have someone send up breakfast."

"O-Okay. Thanks." I thought about smiling but figured that would only tip him off that something was wrong—because something most definitely was wrong, he just didn't need to know about it . . . yet. He came to the side of the bed and leaned over me, placing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

"We'll talk later, Phoebe."

I couldn't speak. The tightness in my throat grew to a lump and he needed to leave immediately before I bursted into sobs. I simply nodded. The second the door closed behind him, I sprinted for the bathroom only to quickly realize I couldn't move faster than a crawl or I risked suffering unbearable pain that radiated down my back.

I finally reached the bathroom and promptly locked the door as I closed it. My knees gave out and I sank to the tiled floor. My heart repeatedly slammed against my chest, hard enough to tear it open. I finally looked down at my arms—my right one was tightly bandaged.

I ripped off the gauze and the tape and found a seven-inch stitched cut from the base of my pinky down my forearm to the crook of my elbow and I recalled the painful tearing when I had reached into the cabinet for the acid. My left arm had multiple cuts and bruises that mirrored the minor cuts on my right arm, cuts that I assumed were from the glass sprinkled on the tile floor of the classroom; I didn't even want to know what my back looked like.

But the sight of my hands was what finally broke me. The sob tore from my chest as I rubbed them against my yoga pants, but the blood that stained my fingers, my knuckles, my palms—it refused to be removed. My breathing became uneven, and I distantly recognized that I was hyperventilating but I couldn't concentrate on trying to breathe properly. I crawled, on bloodied hands and battered knees, to the pristine walk-in shower.

I didn't bother to close the glass door before I turned on the hot water. The shower head sputtered to life, drenching me in warmth. I knocked down bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and shaving cream before I grabbed the body scrub my mom had packed for me in one of the duffle bags I had discovered when I first moved into the pack house.

I curled into the corner, where the stream from the shower head was landing, and squirted half the Dove bottle into my hands. I vigorously rubbed my hands together, over and over and over and over again. I nearly used the entire bottle of body wash, but it was useless—my hands were still stained a brilliant, violent red, the only physical evidence that I had tortured someone mercilessly.

Her blood is on my hands.

"Get off, get off, get off!" I screamed desperately.

Who am I? I wasn't a trained killer, but in that moment in the school, with that beaker of acid mere inches from her mocking, laughing face, I was ready to kill. I was blinded by the ugly hatred and undiluted anger flowing in my veins that I couldn't stop myself before Jason was forced to do it for me. What had I done to get to this point? I was never violent. I usually avoided confrontation; I had never harmed anyone, but last night . . . I was sadistic—I enjoyed her pain. I wanted to cause her more pain. I wanted to watch her die, slowly.

The tears were uncontrollable and I barely registered a pounding on the bathroom door and Julie's frightened calling of my name, over and over and over and over, "Phoebe? Phoebe . . . open the door! OPEN THE DOOR! PHOEBE!"

I scrubbed harder.

The pounding faded away.

I couldn't get the blood off my hands. It wouldn't come off. It was permanent. I would forever be reminded of the torture I inflicted on that girl because a surge of anger and dominance and something else completely controlled my body and my natural instincts. I wasn't human in that moment, when I threw acid at the girl's head or when I used another acid to mar her almost flawless face. The blood on my hands was a badge of horror, to let everyone know just what I was—a monster.

I distantly heard a shout, something loud, and suddenly he was there, kneeling in front of me, the shower soaking his head and shoulders; water drenched his t-shirt within seconds. He reached for me, but I recoiled.

"Don't touch me."

"Phoebe," he said softly.

"I'm a monster," I whispered.

Unsurprisingly, he heard me over the sound of the shower. "No, Phoebe."

I locked eyes with him.

"I hurt her," I cried. "I-I did it. She . . . she threatened you. She kept calling me a pathetic h-human and she wanted to use me to hurt you. I-I couldn't let her do that. I . . ."

A loud sob tore from my throat.

"I became a monster to kill a monster. I wanted to kill her . . . I still want to kill her. I want to see her bleed. I want to hear her screams."

My own scream tore from my throat—a painful, horrible, animal sound. I jerked my head back against the shower wall. "I don't know what I'm saying anymore. W-What's wrong with me?"

Alpha Alexander's eyes seemed to plead with me as he spoke, "You are Phoebe Carmichael . . . you are my mate. There is nothing wrong with you."

"I poured acid on her face!" I sobbed. "Why would I do that?"

Alpha Alexander didn't even blink. "You did what you had to do, Phoebe, to survive."

"I held her down and I poured acid on her face to make her talk. She t-told me she wanted you to kneel to Leo and I couldn't let that happen. She wanted to hurt me because she knew it would hurt you. I-I couldn't let her hurt you."

"She can't hurt me, Phoebe. Not anymore."

He reached for me once more, but I flinched away from him, shaking my head.

"Her blood," I whimpered pathetically. "I can't get it off my hands."

He glanced down at my hands cradled again my chest.

"Phoebe," he said calmly, "there is no blood on your hands."

"How can you say that?" I snapped. I held my red hands up, waving the proof in his face. "Her blood is on my hands. I caused her pain and I'm being punished for it."

I tried to suck air back into my lungs, but my chest tightened and I suddenly couldn't breathe.

Alpha Alexander took my hands in his.

"Phoebe. There is no blood," he repeated.

"Breathe," he commanded, holding my hands to his chest.

"I-I-I can't—"

He moved his body and mine until I was sitting on his lap and the stream of water rained on both of us. I curled into him, pressing my cheek into his chest. He managed to squeeze more soap into my hands and gently washed them with his own, massaging my palms and rubbing my knuckles.

After he rinsed them off, he kissed my fingers. "Look, Phoebe."

He turned my pale hands over for inspection.

"You survived, Phoebe. Your instincts protected you when I could not," he said roughly, as though he didn't want to admit it. "You were incredibly brave—more brave than any Alpha Female I've ever known. You may have hurt her, but she would have killed you if you hadn't. You did what you had to do."

His words wrapped around me; surrounded me with warmth, calming me.

"Her blood is not on your hands. She's alive and I will question her when the time comes. Right now, her life is in my hands. What you did to her would not compare to what she could have done to you. She's a rogue, Phoebe. They do not have morals. They cannot tell the difference between right and wrong. She would have killed you."

I could only nod in response. As I stared at my clean hands, my mind began piecing itself back together after shattering into a million pieces when the guilt and shame of torturing another person dominated my thoughts. The fear subsided after a few minutes. The hot water washed the last of it down the drain until only the lingering weight of guilt was left. I knew what I had done to the girl was based on instinct and something deep inside me continued to whisper that it was because of the mark on my neck, but that was a theory I needed to research later.

Speaking of marks, I pulled away from Alpha Alexander to examine his neck. He watched me curiously and carefully, as though fully prepared for another mental breakdown.

"Am I suppose to mark you?"

My question clearly took him by surprise, and for a moment he didn't say anything. Alpha Alexander . . . speechless? This had to be a truly momentous occasion.

"No, Phoebe."

Well, there goes that idea.

I frowned. "That's not fair. You gave me a fat hickey to warn every guy away but girls can continue to fawn over you."

I sounded angry, and Alpha Alexander responded calmly. "Those 'fawning girls' would never capture my attention, Phoebe."

I bit my lip when I almost accused him of giving another girl his attention just a few months ago, but I didn't want to get Jason into trouble. I still needed to investigate that particular enigma. Besides, I wasn't ready for that conversation, especially when he could easily bring up ex-boyfriends and rile himself up with the fact that I hadn't been a virgin for quite a while—a detail he didn't need to know yet, if my knowledge of werewolf possessiveness was accurate.

According to a textbook I was required to read on werewolves, a short section on mating indicated that the female's scent would be tainted with her mate's once they have sex. The purpose of this was to warn every male werewolf that she was claimed and mated by another male. It said that the scent on the female also indicated how dominant the wolf was—the stronger the scent, the more dominant the male.

The textbook also said, almost as a side thought, that when humans have sex, the male's scent only lingers for at most a week, unless the humans are married or have been dating for a long time.

That train of thought led to another, more intimate one about Alpha Alexander. I stared at him as my imagination took off, the heat that he had dampened with his second bite slowly started to rekindle inside of me the more I thought about it. His nostrils flared and I was suddenly hyper aware that my chest was completely bare.

"Phoebe . . ." he said tightly—warningly.