Alaric’s POV

I didn’t sleep.

I couldn’t, with her scent still in my lungs. Jasmine. Herbs.

Hazel had been in my room. In Aurella’s room. In my head since she walked into the throne room and looked Vincent in the eye without flinching.

“No one touches what is mine.”

The words tasted like a vow and a curse. I’d said them to a five-year-old. To my wolf. To myself.

And now I had to live with them.

I was on my third glass of whisky when Dominic walked in without knocking. Perks of being Beta. Perks of being the only bastard I trusted.

“You told a child Hazel was yours,”...