Chapter 7: Summoned To His Study
911 Words
He led me through the castle corridors...different ones than Margaret had used last night. These were on lower floors, lined with more portraits of stern-faced wolves. Their painted eyes followed me as I passed, judging.
We descended a grand staircase. Passed wolves who stopped and stared. A few bowed their heads...to Marcus, not to me. Others looked at me with barely concealed hostility or curiosity.
The defective omega. The one the king had paid a fortune for.
I kept my eyes down, my hands clenched into fists.
Finally, Marcus stopped in front of a heavy wooden door.
My legs nearly gave out.
"He's inside," Marcus said quietly. Then, softer: "He won't hurt you, Miss Seraphine. I promise."
Everyone kept saying that. But promises meant nothing when you'd been hurt by everyone who'd ever made them.
Marcus knocked once. "Miss Seraphine, Your Majesty."
A pause. Then that voice...deep, cold, absolute:
"Send her in."
My entire body started trembling.
Marcus opened the door and gestured for me to enter.
I couldn't move. My feet were rooted to the floor, every instinct screaming at me to run.
"Miss Seraphine," Marcus murmured. "You have to go in."
I forced one foot in front of the other. Then another. Until I stepped through the doorway into...
A study. Dark wood everywhere. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes. A massive desk dominated the space, papers neatly organized, a laptop closed in one corner.
And behind the desk, standing with his back to me, looking out a window at the forest beyond...
Him.
Even from behind, he was overwhelming. Tall...so tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair falling to his shoulders. Radiating power that pressed against my skin like a physical weight.
I heard the door close softly behind me.
Trapped.
I was alone with the King of Kings.
"Come here," he said without turning around.
His voice was exactly as I remembered...deep, commanding, absolute. The kind of voice that expected obedience without question.
My feet moved before my brain could protest, carrying me forward until I stood in the center of the room.
He still didn't turn.
Silence stretched. Heavy. Suffocating.
"Do you know who I am?" he finally asked.
"Yes," I whispered. "King Damien Blackthorn."
"And do you know what I am?"
I didn't understand the question. "You're... the King of Kings."
"I'm the alpha of alphas. The most powerful wolf alive." His hands, resting on the windowsill, clenched slightly. "I've ruled for over a hundred years. I've killed more wolves than you can imagine. Destroyed packs. Ended bloodlines. When I give an order, it's obeyed without question."
My heart hammered so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.
"So, when I tell you something," he continued, his voice dropping to something deadly soft, "you will listen. Do you understand?"
I nodded, unable to speak past the fear.
"Answer me."
"Yes," I forced out. "I understand."
"Good."
He turned.
And I forgot how to breathe.
Those silver eyes...the ones that had haunted my dreams—locked onto mine with devastating intensity. His face was even more striking in daylight. Sharp jaw. High cheekbones. A mouth set in a hard line. Scars visible on his neck, disappearing beneath his black shirt.
He was beautiful and terrifying all at once.
"You will live here," he said, taking one slow step toward me. "In my territory. Under my protection. You will want for nothing. You will be safe."
Safe. That word again.
"In return," he continued, taking another step, "you will obey the rules. You will not leave the grounds without permission. You will not speak of what happens in this house. And you will not..."
His jaw clenched, and something flickered in his eyes. Something dark and hungry that made my stomach flip.
"You will not fear me," he finished.
Too late. I was already terrified.
He took another step. Then another. Slow. Predatory.
I backed up instinctively until my spine hit the door.
Trapped.
He stopped a few feet away, but it wasn't enough distance. His presence filled the entire room, suffocating, inescapable.
And that pull...that inexplicable, horrible pull I'd felt at the auction...was back. Stronger now. Like an invisible thread connecting us, tugging me toward him even as my mind screamed to run.
"Do you understand?" he asked again, his eyes searching mine.
"Yes," I managed. "Your Majesty."
Something flickered across his face..satisfaction? Approval? Pain? I couldn't tell.
"Good." He turned away, dismissing me. "Marcus will show you the grounds. Learn them. This is your home now."
Home. This prison. This nightmare.
But I didn't say that. Just stood there, trembling, waiting to be dismissed.
"You're free to go," he said, still not looking at me.
I fled.
Marcus was waiting outside the study. He took one look at my face and his expression softened with concern.
"Alright?"
No. I wasn't alright. I would never be alright again.
But I nodded anyway, not trusting my voice.
He gestured down the hallway. "Come. Let me show you the estate. It's quite beautiful when you're not terrified."
I doubted that. But I followed him anyway, because what choice did I have?
As we walked away from the study, I felt it again.
That pull.
That awareness.
Like even though I'd left the room, part of me was still there. Still connected to him.
And when I glanced back...just once...I saw him standing in the doorway of his study, watching me leave with those burning silver eyes.
Always watching.
- Writer
