still had his manties in a twist over the fact his daughter was tied to the Unseelie males. The way they’d attached to her was like a wolf imprinting on its mate. Though, as much as Dominic hated to admit it, he’d confessed how much enjoyed the way they immediately went into protection mode when anything threatened Isadora. At this very moment, the men were downstairs in Arturo’s mansion, waiting to take her home when she was ready.
Carlo’s footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as each step took him closer to his bedroom—where she invaded his senses most. He knew of her. Couldn’t deny his wolf deep inside him that drove him to go to her. To claim her. Own her. Even now he couldn’t deny his incessant need to be closer to the place she’d first come to him.
He hated it.
“Come to me.”
“No,” he growled. Yes …
He wanted more than anything to say yes, but he refused. Not for her. Never for her.
“You can’t fight this, wolf. No matter how much you try.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He ripped his shirt over his head, his body heating just from hearing her voice. He refused to ask her name, to pull her any closer. Warm honey and cinnamon assaulted his nose, filling him until the scent soaked into his cells. It made him think of slick silk sheets, sultry nights, and mating.
It tickled at the edges of his memories—memories he didn’t want to face.
“Leave me be, witch.”
“I’m no witch.”
No, Zahara was a witch, in the truest sense of the word. Isadora had that blood too. Carlo didn’t want to acknowledge what she was. That voice. His … mate.
Opening his slacks with deft fingers, he shredded the expensive material in his haste. His tongue grew thick in his mouth, his canines bursting through his gums, aching for relief. It was always the same each day, every fucking moment he didn’t go to her.
But he couldn’t.
Never.
“Please.”
Carlo closed his eyes, reaching for his wolf, for the change to protect him, to help him. The wolf’s natural instinct would have been to run to her, but with him closed in his bedroom, his wolf couldn’t give in to that need. The hatred. He’d only have to deal with the drive, and that he could push down. He hadn’t left the doors or windows open to get outside, and he was trapped here.
“Did you ever think there was a reason Chaos touched you?”
He snarled and snapped his teeth together. Fuck. No. Chaos had destroyed him, mixed him up until he’d forgotten who he was. It left him tethered to the murderous intent of Ottavio and his plot with Luigi to overthrow Arturo because he’d been so terrified of his own mind. He hadn’t been able to hear Arturo’s pleas or find a chance to free himself.
Carlo hadn’t remembered family or emotions. He’d known nothing but the mindless slide into rage or desire, twisted until he only fought or fucked. And now? He couldn’t risk it. His second touch with Chaos had brought him back to who he once was, and he couldn’t risk losing himself again.
Not even for her.
“All is not what it seems. Things had to happen, Carlo. You must believe me.”
Lowering to the floor in a trembling mass of need, his wolf whimpered at the sound of his name on her tongue. He had to go, had to get away from her and the temptation she presented. She would be his downfall.
What kind of luck did he have that the one woman made for him would be what he hated most?
“You don’t hate me. You fear yourself. Fear what was bestowed on you.”
Bestowed? Bestowed?
Carlo’s wolf went wild, tearing through his room. Teeth and claws ripped through anything close to him. The world faded to a red haze of remembered agony, fear, and rage. He’d never go back there. He’d die first, no matter what the fuck happened. His chest heaved as he dug at his bed, stripping it of its foam and coil guts.
Just like him. Ripped open. Exposed. She knew what Chaos had done to him. She had to. She was Chaos, part of it. He could taste it along with her scent. He knew she was as much a part of it as it was of her.
Ancient magic, the fount of it. She was a Mage, in the truest sense of the word. Zoey, Kalinda, Zahara, and Lorenzo, along with so many others in the Portal Cities, had some magic, but Carlo’s mate