Chapter 3 – Bound by His Price
908 Words
The storm had faded into a faint drizzle, but Amara’s chest still heaved as though the thunder itself had lodged inside her ribs. She sat curled against the corner of the sleek black car, her silk gown clinging to her damp skin. The chill of the night seeped into her bones, yet it wasn’t the storm that froze her—it was the man beside her.
Ezekiel D’Argent. The Dark Alpha Prince.
His presence filled the space like fire and shadow—dominant, suffocating, impossible to ignore. One arm rested casually along the leather seat, but nothing about him was casual. His gaze lingered on her, sharp and unrelenting, as though he had already decided what her future would be.
Amara’s fingers trembled against her lap, clutching the fabric of her gown to stop the shaking. Her mind replayed the voices of her pursuers, cruel and merciless.
Kill her. Kill the child.
Her hand drifted to her stomach, pressing protectively against the secret she had not spoken aloud. A secret that was already a death sentence.
She forced air into her lungs, her voice breaking the silence.
“You… saved me.”
Ezekiel tilted his head, tasting her words like wine. His eyes glinted—dark, dangerous.
“Saved you?” His voice was a growl wrapped in velvet, mocking yet merciless. “No, Amara. I claimed you.”
Her heart stuttered.
“Claimed—?”
“You asked for protection,” he cut her off, his tone smooth as a blade sliding into flesh. “And I agreed. But protection—” he leaned forward, closing the distance until she felt the heat of his breath, “comes with a price.”
Her throat tightened. “What… price?”
His lips curved into a shadow of a smirk, though his gaze burned with something raw and unrestrained.
“Offer me your body. Completely. Without question. You will belong to me—and only me. That is the price of my protection.”
The words struck like a thunderclap, rattling the fragile walls of her world. Horror twisted inside her chest.
“You… you can’t be serious.”
His smirk deepened—cruel, magnetic.
“You think death is kinder than me? Choose wisely, Amara. Your ex-fiancé’s men won’t stop. But with me—” his eyes gleamed with brutal possession, “no one touches you unless I allow it.”
Her breath caught. She wanted to scream, to shove him away, to demand freedom. But the storm, the betrayal, the chase—it had left her cornered. And this man, with his iron strength and suffocating dominance, was her only lifeline.
Her instincts battled: Run. Resist. Escape.
But another voice whispered, softer, more dangerous: You are already his.
Her lips trembled. “If I say yes… what happens then?”
Ezekiel’s hand rose, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek. The gesture was gentle—almost tender—yet it seared her skin like fire.
“Then,” he murmured, steel wrapped in silk, “you become mine.”
Mine.
The word curled through her mind, heavy and inescapable.
Amara’s heart pounded against her ribs. She wanted to deny him, to claw her way back to the girl she once was—the Alpha’s daughter, the dreamer who believed in fated love. But that girl had died the moment her sister betrayed her, the moment her mate rejected her, the moment she was hunted like prey.
Now all that remained was a mother. A survivor.
Her hand pressed harder against her stomach, shielding the fragile life inside from his scorching gaze. She whispered, barely audible, “And if I refuse?”
The air turned deadly. Ezekiel’s smirk vanished, his expression fierce enough to root her in place. He leaned closer until his lips almost brushed hers, his voice a growl against her skin.
“Then you walk back into the night, to the wolves who want your blood. And you and your child will not survive till dawn.”
Her body trembled violently. She hated him for cornering her, hated herself for hesitating. But beneath the terror, beneath the fury, one truth pulsed in her chest.
Ezekiel was dangerous. Ruthless. Possessive.
Yet in his presence, she felt something she had not felt in years—safety.
It terrified her.
Tears pricked her eyes, but she fought them back. “You leave me no choice.”
His lips curved, victory flashing in his gaze.
“Good girl.”
Before she could react, his hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. His touch was firm, unyielding—but not cruel. He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath mingling with hers. For a moment, the storm outside disappeared, leaving only the storm inside her.
“You are mine now, Amara Kinsley,” he whispered, each word a vow and a warning. “And I do not share.”
Her lips parted, a protest forming, but no sound came out. His hold was relentless, but beneath it, she felt something unexpected—warmth. A heat that seeped into her bones, binding her like an invisible tether.
The darkness outside clawed at the windows, but within the car, another kind of darkness bound her—one she feared she might never escape.
And somewhere, deep within the chaos of her breaking heart, a single, treacherous thought whispered back:
What if I don’t want to?
- Writer
