The Lycan Don's Unclaimed Mate

Chapter 3: The Bargain

Cornelia Point of View

My heart pounded against my ribs, heavy and fast, as my vision got clear.

The silver blade in my hand shook by less than a hair's width, its cold tip pressed right against the warm, pressure point under Dante's jaw. One quick flick of my wrist, one hard push upward, and I could drop the Don of the Blood Syndicate right onto his expensive rug.

I knew the anatomy. I knew exactly where the artery sat. My father had taught me every lethal inch of a wolf's body before he went into the ground.

"I said don't touch me," I rasped, my throat raw and burning from whatever paralyzing chemical Hector's zip ties had put into my blood.

Dante didn't flinch. He didn't even take a breath that signaled any kind of threat.

He stayed kneeling by the side of the bed, his broad frame towering over me even in a half crouch. The dark grey wool of his suit jacket brushed against the white sheets, smelling of rain, cold air, and that dark, coffee scent that was currently making my head spin.

His eyes weren't normal. They weren't human. They glowed a fierce, predatory gold in the dim light coming through the floor to ceiling glass, completely open, wild, and totally unbothered by the blade pressed against his throat.

"You're fast for someone who was dragged in here like a corpse twenty minutes ago," Dante said, his voice a low, rough purr that vibrated straight through the bed frame into my spine.

"I wake up fast when predators walk into my room," I spat, tightening my grip on the handle. "Where is Hector?"

"Hector is currently hiding in a hole somewhere near the docks," Dante replied smoothly. He didn't look down at the blade. His gold eyes stayed locked on mine, tracking every twitch of my eyes, every shallow breath passing my lips. "He traded you to my Under Boss to clear a five million dollar debt. He thinks he bought himself a life."

"He sold me," I corrected softly, the cold truth of it settling into my chest like a stone.

Five million dollars. That was what twenty four years of family loyalty was worth to my uncle.

"He did," Dante murmured.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Dante reached up with his left hand. He didn't reach for my knife. He wrapped his long, warm fingers around my bare wrist, right over the raw, purple bruises left behind by the zip ties.

The moment his skin touched mine, the room seemed to lose all its air.

A powerful, golden heat shot out from his grip, rushing up my forearm like a live wire. It got into my chest, making my breath catch as a sudden, electric-like wave rippled through my veins. The lingering effect from the paralyzing drug vanished instantly, burned away by a wave of raw, overwhelming warmth.

My heart rose to a dangerous speed. I stared at him, my lips parting in shock as the old, buried connection between us shook violently under my skin.

He felt it too. I saw the small tightening in his jaw, the hard flare of gold in his eyes, the way his chest expanded as he fought to keep his presence from breaking through his suit.

"What is this?" I whispered, my voice cracking for the first time. "What are you doing to me?"

"I'm reminding you of what you forgot five years ago," Dante rasped, his thumb pressing possessively against the racing artery in my wrist.

He didn't push my knife away. He let the sharp silver edge dig just deep enough into his skin that a single drop of dark blood beaded against the steel.

"Your uncle sold a human stray to a mafia boss," Dante said, his gaze dropping to my mouth before rising back to meet my eyes with total, dangerous certainty. "He didn't realize he was delivering my mate straight to my front door."

"I am not your mate," I snapped, trying to pull my hand back, but his grip was like a steel vise, warm, heavy, and impossible to move. "I am collateral. And as soon as I clear my father's name from your books, I am walking out that door."

Dante let out a quiet, dark laugh, a sound full of dangerous pride.

"You can try, little wolf," he whispered, leaning in until his lips were a breath away from mine, his warm scent completely overwhelming my senses. "But the contract is signed. Your blood belongs to this house now."

"A contract signed under drugs and silver restraints isn't worth the paper it's written on," I spat back, refusing to let the heat building between us weaken my voice. "You want to talk business, Don Draxus? Take your hands off me, stand up, and let's negotiate like civilized monsters."

Dante stared at me for three painful seconds. Then, slowly, his fingers uncurled from my wrist.

The sudden loss of his touch felt like a splash of ice water, leaving my skin cold and overly sensitive. He stood up in one smooth, commanding motion, towering over the bed. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, tossed it onto a chair, then walked over to the heavy black desk near the glass wall.

He picked up a leather folder and tossed it onto the center of the bed between us. Beside it, he dropped a sleek gold pen.

"Read it," Dante said, crossing his arms over his chest.

I sat up, pulling my boots over the edge of the mattress. My body still ached with leftover exhaustion, but my mind was sharp. I opened the folder. The parchment was covered in legal language and Syndicate seals, but the core terms were painfully clear.

Blood Debt Settlement and Territorial Transfer.

"This says I stay under your custody as your designated fiancée for six months," I said, my eyes scanning the dense lines of text. "It locks the Silva pack territory under the Draxus name, keeping the Laurent Syndicate from taking our docks."

"It gives me full authority over your uncle's former lands," Dante corrected. "And in exchange, it grants you full Syndicate protection."

"Protection from what?" I looked up, meeting his burning gold gaze. "You?"

"From the Laurents," Dante said, his voice dropping lower. "Vince Laurent knows your father was the chief executioner. He knows the Silva bloodline carries old weight. If you walk out of this penthouse tonight without my mark or my ring on your hand, his enforcers will hunt you down, drain your blood, and burn whatever is left of your family name."

I held his gaze, my thumb tracing the cold metal handle of the blade hidden against my hip. "Six months is a lifetime in a war zone, Dante."

"Then name your price to stay," he said, leaning against the desk, his long legs crossed at the ankle.

"Fifty million dollars," I said without flinching. "Deposited into an offshore account in my name when the six months are up. Full immunity from the Draxus pack. And the moment the clock hits midnight on the final day, the contract ends, and I walk away clean."

Dante didn't look surprised. A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips, like a predator thoroughly enjoying the chase.

"Fifty million," Dante repeated, his low rasp filling the quiet room. "A steep price for a human stray."

"I am an executioner's daughter, Don Draxus," I said, standing up from the bed, stepping right up to the edge of his space until I could feel the heat coming off his chest. "You're not paying for a stray. You're paying for the only weapon in this city sharp enough to keep your enemies from cutting your throat while you sleep."

Dante leaned down, his face inches from mine, his scent wrapping around me like a trap.

"Deal," he rasped. "Pick up the pen, Mrs. Draxus."

I picked up the gold pen, pressed the tip to the parchment, and signed Cornelia Silva in long, sharp, unshaking strokes.

Dante reached out, his bare thumb brushing against the corner of my jaw as I capped the pen. The golden spark rose instantly, shooting up my neck, making my breath catch as his eyes locked onto mine with frightening possessiveness.

"Tomorrow, the five families meet," Dante whispered against my skin. "Get some rest, little wolf. You're going to need your claws."