His Silent Temptation

Chapter 6 - His Head As A Present

K I L L I A N

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Selene fainted in my arms. How befitting of a bride. My mouth barely grazed the corner of her delectable lips and she was already weak in the knees. I supposed the blood gathering at her feet didn’t help.

“Wouldn’t be the first time a woman feints in your arms, brother,” Chester snickered from beside me in the limo ride back to our pack headquarters. If this was the werewolf world in novels, we’d be in the middle of some random forest playing caveman. But no, we were men of high society, bred and born in blood, and lived in mansions tucked into the edge of the city with enough free space for our pups to run for miles.

“But it’d be the first time you didn’t drop her head-first onto the floor,” a stoic voice murmured from beside Chester whilst keeping his head buried in the book on his lap.

“That’d be one way to start your wedding life. Don’t you think so, Jasper? ” Chester snickered. He threw an arm around his twin, grinning at the man’s irritation.

“A traitor’s daughter,” Jasper murmured with disbelief, his attention trained to the pages. I swear, if he could marry a book, he would. Out of everyone in the world, this man would find a way. I was certain he jacked off to the smell of a fresh book.

“And a heavily injured councilman,” Jasper exasperated. “Nicolas won’t be happy.”

“When is he ever happy?” Chester scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Not even being laid will help him.”

Jasper quietly frowned, but said nothing of it. He was always like this, quiet and grouchy. Eventually, a peaceful silence fell over us.

Thank. F*cking. God.

I was beginning to get a headache. With their bickering, I was humored that Selene was still asleep. She mumbled under her breath and scooted closer.

I tensed. Her scent filled my nostrils. Pure sweetness. I felt like a dog in heat, salivating over a mere woman. It was an indescribable emotion, but she was no mate of mine. She stirred in the corner of the car, but didn’t make a hint of noise.

What ran through her mind? Her soft brows were twisted together, her pouty lips pulled into a frown, and her lashes practically casted a shadow across her rosy cheeks.

Selene Yves was the epitome of perfection. Her luscious hair cascaded down her exposed shoulders, stopping just below her round breasts. Every man within a ten-mile vicinity would’ve drooled over her.

Malore did well in hiding her. I would’ve done the same. Perhaps that was why there was a sickly hue to her, no thanks to the cold sweat gathering on her forehead.

Reaching forward, I caressed her forehead and felt the heat of her skin. My mouth watered, my teeth itching to sink into her soft and malleable flesh. A raging desire washed over me. I wished to color her red and pink with my bites.

“She has a fever,” I growled, dropping my hand and casting a glower towards Theo who sat closest to the passenger seat.

“I’ll have the pack doctor ready at her immediate arrival,” Theo responded whilst rapidly typing away on his tablet meant for commands.

“And make it a woman,” I grounded out, much to Chester’s amusement and Jasper’s surprise.

Jasper momentarily raised his head to acknowledge the pile of sleeping mess next to him. He had the audacity to curl a finger under her nose to check if she was alive. I let out a warning snarl, low and uncontrollable.

Jasper paused, only momentarily to glance at me with disinterest. He was suspicious of my behavior, but backed down.

No one gets to touch Selene. No one, but me.

As the thought washed over me, so did everyone else in the car. Chester raised a curious brow, Theo pretended to not see, and me? I was damned.

My brothers and I always got along. We always had each other’s back. Through thick and thin, they were here for me, and I for them.

I had never lashed out at them for something as insignificant as a woman. Just what was happening to me?

- - - - -

“The fever is most likely due to blood loss and lack of stitches for her feet, Alpha,” Natasha murmured whilst dropping the stethoscope from her ears and scribbling a prescription for us.

At the mention of the stitch job, I felt her momentary glance of uncertainty mixed with slight arousal. Most women reacted this way around me, it was expected, and I wasn’t fazed. In the world of werewolves, it was an animalistic instinct to seek after the strongest men of the pack—me.

“Since she can’t take medication, we’ll have her hooked onto the IV drip,” Natasha continued in a curious voice, casting a glance over her shoulders to Chester who fingered at his phone.

Another predictable move. Women of my pack knew better than to sink their claws into me, though, but that had never stopped them from trying. And I was no monk.

“I want her stitched and healed. My new bride should at least be awake for our wedding night.” I bent and pushed strands of hair away from Selene’s forehead, watching as Natasha stiffen.

Even the slightest touch had my inner wolf scream for release. I felt him bang at the lines of sanity, pacing back and forth in my mind. He was growing impatient. And irritating.

‘It’s not my fault she smells so… curious,’ Knox seethed inside of my mind. My eyes glaze over as I slip into a mind-link conversation with my wolf.

Knox was seldom this foolish. He was always reserved, so seeing him this riled up over something simply quirked my brow. What could be this interesting about the wolfless Selene? Was his mate radar this horrible? He couldn’t possibly believe this weak and feeble girl was our mate? Did she even have a wolf?

‘She’s not wolfless,’ Knox muttered to me. ‘Just… absent, that’s all.’

Knox met Selene for less than a day and already determined that. Impressive, to say the least. As expected of my wolf.

I could practically feel his eye roll. Then, I return my attention to the nurse bed where I glance to see Selene stitched, bandage changed, and IV connected.

“Leave,” I ordered.

Without even a nod of approval, I kick everyone out of the room for a moment of silence. They left without any complaints, except for Chester who pulled the doctor aside for his private needs only for the woman to reject his advances.

And being the fool Chester was, he followed after her like a dog being led on a leash. Always the i***t, that one. When it came to women, he’d follow them to the darkest corner of the earth. He inherited that disgusting trait from our father.

We were all sure of it. After all, Chester, despite sounding like a clown, resembled our despicable sperm donor the most. And lucky for Jasper, they were fraternal twins who didn’t resemble a lick of each other.

“Ngh…”

Immediately, Selene has my full attention. Underneath the white sheets, her skin glowed innocently. I wanted to run my tongue over it just for a taste of her sweetness. There was something delicate about her quiet shivers. I pulled the blanket higher up to her chin, feeling idiotic.

Was I tucking the traitor’s daughter in bed?

I straightened and she immediately twitched. Grabbing her wrist under the covers, I felt her pulse. She wasn’t awake. Perhaps, just a nightmare. I drop her hand. The longer I held it, the more she tempted me.

“Ugh…” she grumbled.

Suddenly, Selene thrashed her head to the side, revealing her long and slender throat, alongside a mark.

Some sorry son of a b*tch got to her before I did. I couldn’t wait to see the fear in their beady eyes as I tear their limbs into pieces, laid out in front of his loved ones.

Running a finger across the strange scar on the spot where her neck met her shoulders, I gritted my teeth. My nostrils flared.

Malore was one dead f*cker.

This was no ordinary mate’s mark. A werewolf’s mark tied the fate of a man and woman for the rest of their lives. It could be performed whether or not they were mates, which made the concept even more infuriating.

What Selene had on her neck wasn’t the werewolf’s mark. This was much worse—a forced branding, if you would. An act more criminal than her father’s betrayal. It was in which a man held down a reluctant woman and forcibly claimed her with his mark. This action was nearly irreversible.

“Broken beyond repair,” Nicolas commented from behind me. I didn’t even turn to see him sauntering into the room. His footsteps were quiet, but nothing could get past me. Not with Knox’s presence.

“Your bride is damaged goods,” Nicolas observed with a slight frown of disapproval. “I hear she’s mute.”

Nicolas stopped right beside me, his voice cold as ice and his hands tucked into his pockets. He peered down at Selene, not at all fazed by her. Instead, his lips twitched, almost expecting my lash out at the wedding.

“What are you going to do with Selene?” Nicolas asked. “Malore is willing to do anything to get her back—including a ransom.”

“You see that?” I spit out, my blood boiling as I changed the subject.

Nicolas glanced down. He was the least bit shocked, but his mouth did dip into a deeper line.

“A forced mark,” Nicolas responded. “I’d rather be branded by a hot iron.”

I retract my hand, my fingers curling and itching to squeeze the life out of someone.

“What are we going to do about it?” Nicolas inquired. “Malore is only a phone call away, though, he’d be too terrified to cross onto our territory.”

I narrow my eyes to Nicolas. He was my Beta—my second in command. Nicolas’s strength was almost on equal standing, his height meeting mine, and his gaze never once faltering from me. He knew how much I despised his eyes, the very ones that resembled our mother’s.

“How much is the ransom?” I spat out.

“One hundred million,” Nicolas calmly responded. “Selene Yves is worth only 10% of Malore’s net worth.”

My lips curled into a sinister smile. “You tell Malore,” I mused. “If he wants her back, I want him to do two things.”

Nicolas raised a slow, curious brow.

“One,” I began. “His bankruptcy.”

Nicolas smirked.

“Two,” I deadpanned. “For him to deliver his head as a present.”

“Present for who?”

I glanced at Selene. “Me.”