Mine
1158 Words
The great hall was louder than I remembered.
The smell of roasted meat and spilled ale hit me the second Draven pushed open the doors. Fifty wolves looked up from their tables. Fifty sets of eyes landed on me.
And on the iron cuff still locked around my wrist.
"Don't lag behind," Draven said, voice low. He didn't look at me. His hand rested on the back of my neck, guiding me forward. Not rough. Not gentle. Just possessive.
My stomach twisted.
The long tables were already full. Wolves eating, laughing, pretending they weren't staring. Marcus sat at the head table beside Draven's empty seat. His eyes narrowed when he saw me.
"Alpha," he said as we approached. "The pack should know she's back."
Draven pulled out his chair and sat. He tugged me down to the seat beside him. Too close. Our thighs touched under the table. I jerked away.
"You're right," Draven said. His voice carried across the hall. The room went quiet.
He stood.
"Lila Hart ran from this pack four years ago," he said. "She broke pack law. She shamed her family."
My face burned. I stared at the table. I didn't dare look up.
"But she's back now," Draven continued. "And for the next six months, she answers to me."
A beat of silence.
Then Marcus leaned back and smirked. "As your what, Alpha? Prisoner?"
Draven's eyes flicked to him. Cold. "As mine."
The word hit like a slap.
Murmurs rippled through the hall. I heard it. Mine. Not prisoner. Not traitor. Mine.
My hands clenched under the table. My wolf whined. She liked that word. She liked him saying it. I hated her for it.
"Sit," Draven said, sitting back down.
I sat.
A plate of food was shoved in front of me. I couldn't eat. My throat was too tight. Every wolf in the room was watching, waiting to see what I'd do.
"Eat," Draven said quietly, just for me.
"I'm not hungry."
"Then you'll answer for it when your wolf gets weak."
I picked up the fork. My hands were shaking. I forced a bite down. It tasted like ash.
Across the table, one of the Betas, Kade, leaned forward. "She doesn't look grateful, Alpha. Maybe she needs more convincing."
Draven didn't even glance at him.
"Careful, Kade."
"Just saying. She ran once. She'll run again."
The cuff on my wrist felt heavier.
I shoved the plate away. "I'm done."
Draven caught my wrist before I could stand. His fingers were warm against my skin. Too warm. Heat shot up my arm, straight to my chest.
"You don't get to walk away," he murmured. "Not yet."
His thumb brushed over my pulse. Once. Twice.
My breath hitched. Stupid body. Stupid bond.
"Alpha," Marcus said, and Draven let go.
Dinner dragged on. I kept my eyes down. I counted the knots in the wooden table. I listened to wolves talk about patrols, about territory disputes, about anything but me. But I felt them looking. Judging.
When the plates were cleared, Draven stood again.
"Pack dismissed," he said.
Chairs scraped. Wolves filed out. No one looked at me directly. But I felt their eyes anyway.
Draven's hand was back on my neck as he led me out.
"Why'd you do that?" I asked once we were in the hall.
"Do what?"
"Claim me. In front of everyone."
He stopped walking. Turned to face me. "Because you're mine, Lila. And I'm done pretending you're not."
My chest tightened. "I'm not-"
"You are." He cut me off. "You can lie to yourself. You can't lie to the bond."
I looked away. "I ran because I had to."
"I know."
His voice was softer now. I risked a glance up. His grey eyes weren't cold anymore. They were tired.
"You think I don't remember?" he said. "You, sixteen, hiding in the rafters of the training yard. Watching me."
My stomach dropped.
"I saw you that day," he continued. "The day before you ran. Shirtless, sweating, and you were there. Bare feet. Breath held. Like if I looked up, you'd disappear."
I didn't answer. My throat had gone dry.
"I wanted to say something," he said. "I didn't."
He turned and kept walking. I followed, my heart pounding.
Back in his room, the door locked behind us.
He didn't speak. He stripped off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves. Then he looked at me.
"First punishment," he said.
I froze. "What?"
"You're going to bathe me."
"What-no."
"Yes." He walked to the basin in the corner, started filling it with water. "Pack law. A mate who runs must serve. Until I say otherwise."
"I'm not your mate."
"You are." He didn't raise his voice. "And you'll do this, or I'll do it for you. Your choice."
My face burned. I crossed my arms.
"Fine."
I grabbed the cloth. Dipped it in the water. My hands were shaking.
Draven sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless. Scars marked his ribs. The new one on his brow. His chest rose and fell with slow breaths.
I stepped closer. Pressed the cloth to his shoulder.
His skin was hot. Too hot. The bond flared between us, bright and aching. My wolf surged. Touch him. Closer.
I dragged the cloth down his arm. My fingers brushed his skin by accident.
He sucked in a breath.
I looked up. His eyes were dark. Fixed on my face. On my mouth.
"You're blushing," he said quietly.
"I'm not-"
"You are." He reached up, caught my wrist. "I can smell it, Lila. Your arousal. Your fear. Everything."
I yanked my hand back. Water splashed on the floor.
"Don't," I whispered.
"Don't what?" He stood. Too close now. "Don't notice you? Don't feel the bond pulling me toward you?"
My back hit the wall. He didn't touch me. But he didn't need to. His presence was enough. Heat, pine, something darker. My wolf was screaming.
"Lila," he said, and my name in his mouth broke something in me.
He leaned in. Just an inch. I could feel his breath on my lips.
Then he pulled back. His jaw clenched. He turned away.
"Enough," he said, voice rough. "Get in bed."
I slid under the covers on my side, as far from him as possible. My heart was racing. My skin still burned where his fingers had touched me.
The bed dipped as he lay down. We didn't speak. Hours later, I woke to him watching me again.
"Can't sleep?" I asked, voice hoarse.
"No," he said. "Full moon's in two weeks. My control's already slipping."
I swallowed. "What does that mean?"
"It means," he said, "if you run again, I'll chain you to this bed. And next time, I won't stop myself."
He turned over. His back to me.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, and wondered if I was more afraid of him losing control... or of me wanting him to.
- Writer
