CHAPTER 001
1148 Words
CHAPTER 001
The sentences uttered by his mother were echoing through the dining room where he was standing. Her voice had been sweet and even imploring, yet its density smashed him like granite. His dad was standing firm on his chair with an elbow on the well-polished table, with the hand of his mother sticking tightly on his shoulder like they were one.
It is yours, sweetheart, the title. You will lead your pack. But first, you must take a wife."
The wide, guilty, determined look of her eyes sought his. She raised her head and lowered her chin, looking over the cage of her lashes, hoping that possibly gentleness would soften the severity of her order. It did not.
The voice of his father was heard with more sternness and coldness. Isabella is a well-bred girl. Her father spoke well of her. Their brand is respected by other packs. This game wins us ties that we cannot break.
Respect. Alliances. Deals. This was as little as they had ever been.
His fists curled up on each side. We are the most respected pack in this country already. We possess more friends, more power, more all. I shall not make a wife of you.
"You will," his father replied, moving forward, and there was no mistaking the tone of his voice. "This is not a discussion. The preparations are complete. Two days later, Isabella Clarke will be here. The nuptials will be held at once.
Blood surged hot through him. Rage cracked his voice. She is a dotted line; she cannot breathe without the money her father gives her!
"Language!" his mother rebuked and came nearer, and her voice was harsh and clipped.
His father stood up, burdened with responsibility, and gave a great sigh. "This will be good for all of us. They must have this bond that will hold their pack together, and you will become an Alpha. It is settled. A done deal."
Done deal.
The lines that emptied him were hollow and bitter and shaking.
He raged out of the room before he could utter anything that he could not take back. The den was as near a tighter world round him as a pool cue became a grip on his anger. He would push it through something; he would have an aching in his heart, not the heat in his veins.
He gave the signal and focused his eyes on the ball. His anger fell down his arms into his hands and out through the wood. The ball was hit so strongly by the cue that it flew round in the air and almost hit Cole on the face.
Cole seized it a quarter of an inch short. "Whoa!" he cried.
It would have been pleasant to laugh at Cole, and nobody did.
"That was not it, I guess," Cole said, laying the ball back on the table again, with a disinterested but keen smile. "That was not what we were talking about: food arrangements for your coronation as Alpha."
He dropped the cue on the table, banging wood and rolling balls. "No. "It was concerning my marriage," remarked he.
His brows drew up; Cole was about to laugh. "I will shoot that ball again," I said to Cole. "This time you will not be able to jump out of its path."
Cole chuckled, unbothered. Excuse me, what the hell do you mean by marriage?
"They have got me to marry Isabella Clarke of the Trimoon pack," he said flatly.
Cole broke into laughter, which he could not conceal. His jaw tightened. The words made his teeth ache.
"That spoiled princess?" Cole asked, still laughing.
He grunted once. "Yes."
"Well, damn. I was told she is beautiful, though.
"Do you think I care?" His hands lay flat on the pool table with fury running through him. And she will be nothing but trouble. And of course you know that I already have a girlfriend.
Samantha was like a blade in his chest.
Cole's smile faltered. He had an idea of how this would burn everything down. Samantha discovered after the preparation that fire would not only burn him but also Isabella. The anger of Samantha would come and slice them both.
Cole sat back and crossed his arms. "So what? When did you ever run away at a battle?
He glared. How do you think you can bring me to tie my life to a marriage?
A smirk came to Cole that seemed to him like breaking the nose of the other man. "We've all heard the stories. Daddy's little princess, spoiled rotten, never said no, never refused anything she demanded. It is a difficulty to bring her feet back down to the ground. Break her. A wing of hers was cut down to make her fly. You're the Alpha. Make her submit to you."
With his head drawn back, he turned his shoulders and gazed at the burning lamp over them. The light shot up and down, and the noise made his nerves grate and made him grate his nails together till his hand took the cue once more.
Cole's grin widened. "This can be interesting; I can make it interesting," said he.
He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Cole bent under, and his voice lowered. I suppose you will not be enabled to do it before the year ends.
I will have her cringing by the close of the month, he answered immediately.
"No, not just submitting. That's too easy. I am madly in love with you. Hopeless. Helpless. Wrapped around your finger. By the end of the year."
The words were as smooth as they were sharp and alluring. His jaw locked. Glitter in his eyes, Cole threw down the gauntlet.
"How much?" he asked.
"Whoever wins ten thousand," said Cole.
He raised an eyebrow. So in case I do get her to fall in love with me, you give me ten thousand?
Or you lose, and you give me ten thousand, Cole replied without a blush.He stepped forward and closed the distance, gripping Cole’s hand harder than needed. Cole groaned as bones met pressure. A grin stretched across his face, precise and certain. People needed to know their place. Cole included.
The lamp flickered again. Annoyance snapped through him. He lifted the cue and smashed it into the bulb. Glass shattered and glittered across the dark wood like dangerous confetti.
Both men grinned at the thought of the game they had just started. It felt reckless and small at once.
Two days.
In two days, Isabella Clarke would walk into his world.
Would she burn it to the ground, or would he break her before she ever had the chance?
There was another question that clawed at the back of his mind, even as laughter echoed in the broken light of the den.
Would he fall first?
- Writer
