Play Pretend

Chapter 4:Meet the Harris'

The limo cruises through the wrought-iron gates of the Harris Estate, engine purring like a content cat. Goosebumps break out along the skin of my neck as I fidget with the hem of my dress. My apprehension lingers in the air, so palpable, that I'm sure the predators surrounding me could smell it, taste it.

This is their den, their territory.

And I'm now here, unprotected.

The Matriarch sits opposite me, back ramrod straight. Those cold eyes of hers bore into me and I'm almost certain she can read every thought racing through my mind. The shallow breaths coursing in and out of my lungs are the only sounds in the otherwise silent car.

But we aren't alone.

Two burly men flank I and Mathilde, their mere presence reminiscent of iron bars imprisoning me.

One wrong move and there'd be consequences, that, I am sure of.

I mentally run through the Chelsea dossier that had been dumped on me while I'd been plucked and primped within an inch of my life: what her favorite drink is, her favorite designer store, the throaty quality of her laugh. Mathilde had made me practice it so many times until I had gotten it right.

The car slows to a stop and at the same time, my heart makes itself comfortable in my mouth.

This is it, I fret, resisting the urge to dab my suddenly damp brow.

Showtime.

As soon as I step out of the car, the scents assault me all at once; moist earth, the faint metallic tang of something darker, more primal.

More... animalistic.

I'd thought I was prepared for this. Back at the warehouse, I had managed to stuff my emotions in a box and shove it aside. Maybe, I had reasoned, if I put aside my feelings and think rationally, I'd be able to save Mark and come out of this whole mess alive.

How wrong I was.

My knees almost buckle from the oppressive charge in the air that threatens to crush me. I struggle to process the way every nerve ending in my body comes alive, just like the moment before lightning hits the earth. Fear and exhilaration mix to form the unhealthy aphrodisiac that pools low in my belly.

Mathilde's nails dig painfully into my arm as she murmurs for my ears only, "Remember our deal. Behave and I won't have to gut your lone wolf."

She doesn't give me room to respond before steering me through the threshold. I can hardly keep up with her quick pace as I stumble after her like a drunk.

"Keep up." She snaps, not even bothering to look back at me but my attention isn't on her; I'm too busy taking in the foyer.

Decorated in a cathedral of crystal and marble, the house is a blatant display of ostentation.

The chandeliers look like blood red diamonds hang off of them and on the walls, portraits of Harris Alphas stretching back centuries, each one more mean-looking than the next.

I can see my face in theirs.

Chelsea's face.

I can almost feel the heavy weight of their lifeless stares as I follow Mathilde.

"Chelsea! You're back!"

My head whips around just in time to catch the aristocratic looking man descending the grand staircase. In a perfectly tailored suit that showcases the powerful body underneath, Victor Harris is the definition of an apex predator. There's something about the lazy air of confidence around Chelsea's father that instantly has me on edge.

I know his type. He lures in his prey with a false sense of calm and when he has them eating out his hand, he strikes.

Victor wears danger like a cloak and I just know I have to watch my back around him.

I watch his nostrils flare as he takes the final step, his brow furrowing into a frown.

My scent. It throws him off.

Mathilde's hand tightens around my arm and I jerk, realizing that Victor is staring expectantly at me.

"Father," I lift my chin, managing to not sound like I'm slowly going out of my mind with terror. "It's good to be back."

The frown doesn't move an inch.

"How was the retreat?"

I parrot back what I had been instructed to say.

"It was... intense. I needed some time to myself before the mating ritual."

I can barely blink before his legs are eating up the distance and he is pulling me into some sort of embrace. I can't call it a hug because a hug is meant to comfort or show joy. He feels like he's trying to squeeze the life out of me. I stiffly throw my hands around him as I suspect Chelsea would, burying my nose in his shoulder and inhaling the overwhelming mix of blood and dominance that constitutes his scent.

"You smell different." He observes, still pressing me against the solid muscled walls of his chest. "Scared? Stressed?"

My heart thuds erratically at his casual words. Mathilde had made sure I was doused in wolfsbane extract and Chelsea's signature perfume in a bid to mask my scent.

Something tells me Victor isn't fooled.

He pulls back to study me once again, so I force a smile and lie through my teeth.

"Like I said, the whole experience was intense. Fasting, mediation. I'm just overwhelmed."

Over his shoulder, I spy the rest of the family pouring into the room, varying degrees of contempt and curiosity on their faces.

"Ah, the prodigal daughter returns." Ethan Harris, Chelsea's brother, leans against the door, a smirk lending his face a cruel look.

"I didn't think you'd have the balls to go through with this, you know."

Mathilde had informed earlier on that he and Chelsea aren't the closest of siblings, which is why I snort disdainfully.

"Well, I grew a pair." My voice is cold, my nose high up in the air. "You should do the same, big brother."

A moment of stunned silence follows. Everyone present gawks at me, unmoving, and I can't help but think that this is it.

The moment my cover is blown. The moment Mark and I meet our untimely demise at the hands of these unfeeling beasts.

It's over. It's all over.