The Dormant Spark

Thalia POV

I trudge up the dark, creaking stairs, the bitter memory of Ronan's glare burning in my chest. I push open the door to my attic. The space is vast and suffocatingly dark, illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through a single small window. I used to have a real bedroom, a bright space fit for an alpha's daughter. Darla stripped that away the second my mother was lowered into the ground, handing it over to someone more deserving.

Now, my sanctuary consists of a thin, lumpy mattress on the floor and a wobbly wooden desk stacked with worn novels and schoolbooks. In the corner sits a cracked, unwanted closet door with a full-length mirror attached to it.

I usually avoid looking at myself. Ten years of Vessa and the rest of the pack calling me an ugly freak makes you hate your own reflection. But tonight, the adrenaline from slapping Cleo is still rushing through my veins. I step in front of the glass and take a deep, shaky breath.

The girl staring back is skinny and pathetic. My naturally golden tan skin looks dull in the shadows. Long silver-white hair falls over my shoulders, framing my face and the thin silver scar slashing from my eyebrow down to my upper cheek. I trace the jagged line with a fingertip. I got it the night my mother died, though the memory of how is wiped from my brain. Then, there are my eyes. They are translucent and mismatched—one a deep, swirling purple, the other a striking, bright silver.

A freak. That’s what they say. Maybe I deserve the ridicule. My mother was trying to flee the pack to keep me safe. Safe from what? Safe from whom?

Tears burn the back of my throat. A few hot drops spill over my lashes, sliding down my scarred cheek. I aggressively scrub them away. Crying fixes nothing. I need a way out of this hellhole soon.

I move away from the mirror and drop onto the thin mattress, pulling my blanket up to my chin. It carries a comforting scent. I found it up here on my birthday last year, tucked next to a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird and a few chocolate bars. Someone probably just used my room for storage, but I pretend it was a gift. Closing my eyes, I let the exhaustion pull me under.

Sapphire blue eyes. Jet black hair. The most breathtaking smile I have ever witnessed.

He hovers above me, sheer perfection, though the exact lines of his face remain blurred in the shadows of my mind. I am pinned on my back, my chest heaving. My body trembles as his long, slender fingers trace a fiery path down my stomach, slipping between my thighs to tease my dripping core.

"You're so perfect, Thalia," the stranger whispers, his hot breath fanning my ear. "I want to mark your neck and make you mine for real."

His lips crash down on mine. It is a devouring, filthy kiss. He thrusts his tongue deep into my mouth, tasting me, exploring me. His fingers delicately stroke my bare skin, sending a wild, burning sensation rushing through my veins. My pussy is pulsating, slick and dripping wet for him.

"You're mine, baby," he murmurs against my jaw, his sapphire eyes dark with raw lust. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down my neck and over my collarbones, subjecting me to blinding pleasure. My breathing turns ragged.

"Say it."

"Mmm," a deep moan bubbles out of my throat as I rock my hips up, grinding my wet core against the massive hardness of his cock pressing through his pants.

"Say it," he orders, his voice a gravelly rumble.

I shiver. A heavy, delicious warmth spreads over my skin as his intoxicating scent wraps around me. "I'm... yours."

His hips roll against mine in a slow, agonizing rhythm that makes my brain fog over. I reach up, digging my nails into his broad, muscular shoulders. I arch my back, pressing my bare body flush against him, desperate for friction. Sexy, primal growls tear from his throat as he dips his head and sucks hard on my stiff nipples. My skin is on fire. I want him. I need him.

"Please," I beg, my voice small and dripping with desperation. "I need you inside me."

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy, baby," he husks. A devilish smirk plays on his lush lips.

I wrap my legs tight around his waist, locking my ankles so he cannot pull away. My heart hammers against my ribs, consumed by the feral heat burning between us. His penetrating gaze pins me down, searching for my approval. I nod frantically, silently begging him to take me. He smiles, a wicked curve of his mouth.

"I love you, Thalia."

"I love you," I whisper back, pulling his face down to resume our passionate, messy kiss. He aligns the head of his massive cock right at my inviting, wet entrance. My breathing hitches, my body spreading open, ready to receive every inch of him.

"Ruinface, wake up!" a shrill voice screams.

I freeze. My eyes snap open, darting wildly around the dark attic.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Fists pound against my door, rattling the hinges. I jolt upright, my hand clutching my racing chest.

"Holy shit, that was an intense dream," I whisper into the dark.

I take deep breaths to calm my erratic heartbeat. I slide my fingers down to my core. It is soaking wet. The dream felt too real. The phantom tingles of his mouth and hands still ghost over my skin.

I fall back onto the mattress for a minute, throwing an arm over my face. I mentally prepare myself for the monsters waiting on the other side of that door.

"Come the fuck out!" the muffled voice screeches again.

"Coming," I groan, kicking the blanket off.

I hop out of bed and stumble. A sudden dizzy spell hits me, but it fades as quickly as it came. Something inside my chest flares to life. It blossoms, hot and vibrant. I stretch my arms, expecting the usual agonizing soreness from scrubbing floors all day yesterday. Nothing. My muscles are healed.

It is odd. A small smile curls on my lips. I stand still and focus. The world around me is loud and bright. My vision pierces through the gloomy shadows of the attic with crystal clarity. I inhale, and a dozen scents hit my nose. I can smell freshly baked buns wafting up from the kitchen. I hear the distinct crunch of boots on gravel outside, echoing from the training fields far away.

It feels like a dam broke inside my head. I have awakened another sense.

I quickly pull my long hair back into a tight ponytail, letting my curtain bangs fall forward to hide the scar. I tuck my silver necklace safely under my shirt and brace myself for the day.

I spend the next twelve hours scrubbing the packhouse top to bottom. Once the floors gleam and my chores are done, I slip away to the laundry room. It is the one place in this massive house that people rarely step foot in. I claim a spot in the corner and pull out my book, hoping for peace.

The peace shatters when the heavy door swings open.

Cleo Kaelen saunters into the cramped space. Her fists are balled at her sides. I can taste the blazing anger radiating off her skin. She is here for blood. She wants revenge for the humiliation in the dining hall last night.

I keep my mouth shut. I refuse to give her a reaction.

"Didn't you hear me?!" Cleo snarls. She lunges forward and slaps the back of my head.

My jaw clenches. I slowly raise my eyes to meet her furious glare.

"How may I help you?" I ask, my tone dripping with exaggerated, sarcastic politeness. I widen my mismatched eyes, staring deep into her brown ones. She sees right through the fake innocence, and it pisses her off more.

"You will show me respect. I'll soon be Luna of this pack!" she shrieks.

"When my brother pities you enough to choose you as his Luna, I will try to be respectful," I say, my voice deadpan. "But until then, you are nothing to me. No one." I put extra venom on the last word.

A feral growl rips from Cleo's throat. Out of the corner of my vision, I see her lunge at my face with her claws out.

My body reacts before my brain even processes the threat. I dart to the side, a blur of motion. I don't know how I moved that fast. Cleo stumbles past me, her eyes flashing with murderous rage.

"You're fucking dead, bitch!" she roars, pivoting to charge me again.

Instinct takes over. I grab the heavy wooden chair I was sitting on, swing it back, and launch it directly at her chest. It crashes into her ribs with a sickening crack. Cleo doubles over, wheezing for air. Before she can regain her balance, I grab a second chair from the corner.

I swing it down hard across her back.

It feels like someone else is steering my body. A raw, violent energy possesses my limbs. I smash the chair into her again and again. Cleo screams, crumpling to the linoleum floor. I stand over her, chest heaving, the broken chair leg gripped tight in my fist. She is battered, bruised, and unable to move.

Panic slices through the red haze in my mind.

I drop the broken wood. I spin around, bolt out of the laundry room, and slam the heavy door shut, locking it from the outside in a panic. My breathing is ragged.

Fuck, what possessed me to do that.

'I did. Hi, Thalia,' a voice beams in my head.