Chapter 6: MORNING AFTER
1196 Words
SERAPHINE
I woke to sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows.
For a moment....one blissful, disoriented moment...I didn't remember where I was.
Then it all came crashing back.
The auction. The king. The castle.
Him.
I sat up too quickly, my heart racing. The enormous bed was so soft I'd sunk into it like a cloud, and the grey linens were tangled around my legs. I was still wearing the thin white shift from the auction....I'd been too afraid to undress last night, too afraid to touch
anything in this room.
This beautiful, terrifying room that he'd prepared for me.
Sunlight illuminated every detail I'd missed in my panic last night. The sitting area with its plush sofas and crackling fireplace. The ornate wardrobe that probably contained clothes worth more than my entire life. The bathroom door, slightly ajar, revealing gleaming marble.
Everything was shades of grey and white and silver. Elegant. Expensive. Cold.
Like him.
I pushed the covers aside and stood on shaky legs. My body ached...bruises from yesterday's rough handling, muscles sore from tension and fear. My feet were cut and dirty from the warehouse floor.
I needed to wash. To think. To figure out what happened next.
The bathroom was obscene in its luxury.
A massive soaking tub. A separate glass shower. Marble counters with gleaming fixtures. Towels so thick and white they looked like they'd never been used. And on the counter...expensive bottles of soaps, shampoos, lotions. Everything I could possibly need.
Why?
Why give all this to a purchased omega? To a defective wolf worth nothing?
What does he want from me?
The question had haunted me all night, stealing sleep, filling my dreams with silver eyes and growling voices.
I turned on the shower....the water pressure was perfect, the temperature exactly right...and stepped under the spray.
The hot water stung my cuts and bruises, but I didn't care. I scrubbed my skin until it was red, washing away the warehouse smell, the fear-sweat, the lingering scent of that grey cloak.
His cloak.
It was still draped over the chair where I'd left it last night, and even from here, I could smell it. Pine and smoke and something darker. Something that made my stomach flip in a way I didn't understand.
I scrubbed harder.
By the time I emerged, wrapped in one of those impossibly soft towels, I felt almost human again. Almost.
The wardrobe revealed exactly what I'd feared—expensive clothes in my size. Dresses, pants, shirts, even undergarments. All new. All perfectly tailored.
He'd known my measurements.
The thought made my skin crawl.
I chose the simplest outfit I could find....soft grey pants and a loose white sweater. The fabric was finer than anything I'd ever worn, but at least it covered me completely.
I was braiding my damp silver-white hair when someone knocked.
I froze, my hands tangled in my hair, my heart in my throat.
"Miss Seraphine?" A woman's voice. Older. Kind. "May I enter?"
Margaret. The housekeeper from last night.
"Yes," I managed.
She came in carrying a tray...the smell of fresh bread and coffee wafting before her. Her stern face softened slightly when she saw me. "Good morning, dear. You look much better."
I didn't feel better. I felt trapped.
"I brought breakfast." She set the tray on the small table near the fireplace. "You didn't touch dinner last night. You must be starving."
I was. My stomach had been growling for the past hour, but I'd been too afraid to pull the cord and ask for anything.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Margaret gestured to the chair. "Sit. Eat. Then we need to discuss the day."
The day. What did that mean?
I sat slowly, eyeing the food like it might be poisoned. Toast. Eggs. Fresh fruit. Coffee. More food than I'd normally see in a week.
"It's not drugged, if that's what you're worried about," Margaret said dryly, reading my expression. "King Damien has no need for tricks."
No. He just needed to be terrifying enough that no one would dare disobey him.
I picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite. It was warm, perfectly buttered, delicious.
I tried not to eat too fast, but I was so hungry. Margaret watched me with something like pity in her eyes.
"Better?" she asked when I'd made a significant dent in the food.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Good." She folded her hands in front of her. "Now, King Damien has requested your presence in his study at ten o'clock."
The toast turned to ash in my mouth.
"Requested," I repeated flatly. "Not ordered?"
"King Damien doesn't order. He requests." Margaret's expression was carefully neutral. "But his requests are rarely refused."
Of course not. Who would refuse the King of Kings?
"What... what does he want?" My voice came out small, frightened.
"I don't know, dear. He doesn't confide in me." She stood. "But I can tell you that you have nothing to fear. He's never harmed an innocent in this house. Never."
Innocent. As if that word applied to me. As if I hadn't been sold like livestock, marked as defective, worth nothing to anyone.
Except apparently to him.
For reasons I still couldn't understand.
"What time is it now?" I asked.
"Half past eight. That gives you an hour and a half to prepare." Margaret moved toward the door. "I'll send Elena up to help you—"
"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. "I mean... I don't need help. Please."
I couldn't handle more strangers. More eyes on me. More pity or curiosity or whatever emotion people felt when they looked at the defective omega the king had bought.
Margaret studied me for a moment, then nodded. "As you wish. But be ready at ten. Marcus will come to escort you."
Marcus. The brown-haired man who'd been kind at the auction.
"I'll be ready," I lied.
I'd never be ready to face him again.
****************
The next hour and a half was the longest of my life.
I paced the suite. Sat. Paced again. Tried to eat more but couldn't. My stomach was in knots.
At nine-thirty, I positioned myself by the window, looking down at the grounds below.
The estate was even more massive in daylight. Gardens stretched in every direction...carefully maintained, bursting with late-season flowers. Beyond them, I could see training yards where dozens of wolves...all male, all huge...engaged in combat drills.
His warriors. His pack. His kingdom.
And somewhere down there, in one of those rooms, was the king himself.
Waiting for me.
What does he want?
The question circled endlessly in my mind.
At exactly ten o'clock, a knock sounded at the door.
I jumped, my heart slamming against my ribs.
"Miss Seraphine?" Marcus's voice. "It's time."
I closed my eyes, took a breath that did nothing to calm me, and opened the door.
Marcus stood in the hallway, dressed in dark clothing that somehow looked both casual and military. His expression was kind, but there was something in his eyes....concern? Wariness?
"Good morning," he said gently. "Are you ready?"
No. Never. But I nodded anyway.
''Then let's go''
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