Claimed by the Tyrant Alpha: The White Wolf Bride

Chapter 2 She Is Mine

Elena slumped against the mattress frame, her fingers locked around the man's right hand. Fever burned through her skin, leaving damp beads along her hairline.

Nathan Shaw pushed open the bedroom doors and walked straight to the IV stand. He pushed a syringe of pale blue liquid into the catheter port, sending the sedative into the vein.

Alexander opened his eyes. His grey-blue stare locked on the edge of the mattress where thin, raw knuckles gripped his wrist. He stayed motionless, allowing the grip to hold. She was asleep.

Nathan lowered his head and kept his voice down. "The elder matriarch saw you had remained comatose. She invoked the ancient blood pact and ordered the Vance pack to send their daughter to fulfill the alliance."

Alexander raised his left hand. His calloused thumb pushed stray strands of honey-blonde hair behind her ear.

Nathan froze. The Alpha avoided touching strangers, yet he reached for an unfamiliar woman without hesitation.

Her skin radiated harsh heat. Several dark scars ran across the pale meat of her forearm. Alexander's jaw tightened into a rigid line.

"Get Julian Ross up here," Alexander said.

Nathan hit the speed dial on his phone. In his years working for the Blackwood family, he had never seen the Alpha show interest in any female. This looked like pure infatuation at first sight.

"Three minutes. I want her file," Alexander added.

"One second, Alpha." Nathan tapped his tablet screen and placed the device on the nightstand. "Elena Vance. The biological daughter of the Vance clan. They brought her to the city four weeks ago, shoved her into a cold attic, and treated her worse than basic kitchen help."

Alexander stared at the display. Deep fury coiled through his ribs.

Julian Ross kicked the door open, carrying his medical bag. He rubbed his swollen eyelids and yawned. "Do you know what time it is? What sort of emergency—"

Julian cut himself off when he saw Elena clinging to Alexander's wrist.

Alexander gave him a freezing glare.

Julian dropped the jokes. He set down his bag and bent over the girl. He used a pair of stainless shears to split her sleeve, peeling back the torn fabric to expose the damaged flesh.

Julian scowled as he inspected the marks. "Curling iron burns. Deep tissue bruising from blunt impacts. Three puncture marks from carpet tacks. The wounds carry refined wolfsbane oil to block her natural healing. Whoever did this meant to torture her without leaving fatal evidence."

The air in the room turned lethal.

Alexander pushed himself up from the pillows, his shoulders rigid. "Find every person who laid a hand on her. She crossed my threshold. She is mine."

Julian placed a tub of green herbal salve and two bottles of liquid medicine on the low table. "She has injuries across her back and legs. It crosses protocol for me to undress her. You want to handle the ointment yourself?"

"Leave it," Alexander said.

Julian gathered his tools and walked out of the room.

Alexander swung his legs over the side of the mattress and stood up. Faint silver poison marks still traced his ribs and abdomen, but his muscles moved with ease. He slid his arms beneath Elena's knees and back, lifting her light frame. He placed her on the inner side of the bed against the pillows.

Her bruised skin provoked a low growl from his dormant beast. He forced the feral urge down.

The bedroom lacked luggage. The Vance family had sent her without a single personal bag.

He picked up the room phone and dialed his assistant. "Bring complete seasonal wardrobes. Now."

He hung up the receiver and looked down at her battered frame. "Poor little thing."

He pulled the rough burlap gown over her head. He brought a bowl of warm water, dipping a soft cotton towel to clean away grime along her spine and collarbone. He scooped the salve onto his fingers, spreading it over every raw cut and blister. Then he pulled the thick comforter up to her chin.

---

Nathan returned twenty minutes later with four guards wheeling rolling racks into the walk-in closet. Racks of dresses, leather shoes, purses, and diamond jewelry filled the shelves to capacity.

Nathan stepped back into the master room and stopped dead.

Elena slept in the center of the bed, her golden curls spread across the white linen. Alexander stood beside her in low-slung black pajama pants.

"What are you staring at?" Alexander's tone snapped like a whip.

Nathan raised his phone to his ear, pretending he had just ended a call. "I pulled the school records, Alpha. The abuse at St. Claire Academy was coordinated by Chloe Vance."

He checked his screen, disgust in his voice. "Chloe is the swapped child. The Vance leaders knew Elena was their true blood, but they protected Chloe to maintain their standing with the elite families. They buried Elena's identity."

"Her cuts and bruises," Alexander said, his silhouette dark against the window. "Take them back from Chloe. Ten times over."

"Understood, Alpha." Nathan bowed and backed out of the suite.

---

The wooden door latched shut, returning the master bedroom to silence.

Alexander lay down beside her. Her scent—fresh pine and white rose petals—filled his nostrils, easing the burn in his chest.

Elena whimpered in her sleep. Tears soaked into the pillow under her cheek.

"Mom... Dad . . ." she choked out, her shoulders trembling under the covers. "I want to go home . . . Mistwood is my home . . . Not Vance Manor . . ."

Victor Vance's cold parting threat still echoed in her mind: if she ran from the Blackwood pack, the Miller family cabin would burn to ash.

Elena shifted, wrapping both hands around Alexander's forearm. She pressed her hot forehead against his skin.

Tears dropped against his wrist.

Alexander raised his hand and rested his broad palm against her spine, stroking her back in steady rhythms.

The grandfather clock struck two in the morning.

Elena's eyelashes fluttered. Her violet eyes opened slowly.

The fever had broken. Her body rested against a hard, warm chest. The scratchy burlap dress was gone, replaced by an oversized black cotton shirt smelling of pure cedar.

She assumed the manor's maids had cleaned her up while she slept.

Elena pushed her weak hands against his chest, her voice shaking in the dark. "Alexander . . . will you throw me out?"