Alpha Rayven

Commodity

Walking.

Soft, bare feet squish into the earth as we make our way through the forest toward my destruction.

I try to take my steps as slowly as possible, delaying the inevitable. I know now that if I try to run, my throat will be cut. I can feel it… feel the aggression my father is emitting, pouring from him in tumbling waves. My shoulders begin to slouch inward under the weight of it, something I don’t want my intended to see. Something I don’t want anyone to see.

I try to pull more strength into myself, but it’s useless.

My father tugs me along like a rag doll, something I’ve never experienced before.

Always do as you’re told.

Always do as you’re told.

I remind myself what exactly is at stake as we near the forest’s edge. I breathe in the scent of crisp pine as we make our way down the dreaded path. Soon there will be lines and lines of pack members watching this display… watching the joining of two packs. I see the blurred figures of our pack members, all of them staring on with conflicted emotions.

When we reach the small clearing that serves as our stage, I feel even smaller. I grit my teeth to keep from hunching forward again, to keep from being a disgrace.

I don’t look up, but I can feel Blackwood’s eyes on me. They feel angry. Disappointed.

Well, sorry I’m not what you wanted. You weren’t my first choice either.

I hear a growl and realize part of that thought had been voiced aloud. My father’s grip tightens more than it ever has before, afraid I’ll run, I suppose. But I can feel the power in Blackwood’s veins even from halfway down this corrupted aisle. There’s nowhere I could run that he wouldn’t find me. I know that now, and I flinch when we finally reach the end of the line.

The end of my reign as the alpha’s firstborn daughter, daughter of the Nightingales, and the beginning of Willow, mate to Blackwood.

It’s funny. I don’t even know his first name. I only know rumors and misguided words.

“Take his hand, daughter,” my father seethes under his breath.

I’ve never been treated this way by him before, and I can’t remember the last time he called me anything other than simply Willow.

I must not have moved quickly enough, because before I realize it, my hand is wrenched from my father’s arm and thrust into the ominous grip of Blackwood himself. I try not to quake under his scrutiny.

I don’t dare look up for the entirety of the ceremony, and his anger only seems to magnify. I feel it pass through his skin into mine, seeping into every vein and bone, starting from my clammy hand trapped in his.

I don’t notice the turquoise ribbon around my wrist until he tugs at it, untying it and handing it to my father. I look up in surprise and meet the most striking face I’ve ever seen, only marred by a small scar across his left cheekbone. His eyes are a crystalline silver, unlike anything I’ve ever seen… like staring into a glass of pure mercury.

I don’t realize I’m staring until I see the snarl curl his lips. I begin to shake as my father ties what I now recognize as my mother’s bonding ribbon… passed down through her family for centuries. It’s old and frayed now, but the sentiment remains. My eyes water at the sight.

I don’t even hear the words of the ceremony as they pass in and out of my ears in a constant cycle until it’s over and Blackwood is pulling me unceremoniously toward our family cabin… deep, deep in the woods, where no one would hear me if I screamed.

At the cabin, I’m dragged roughly across the barrier, nearly tearing our newly formed bond. My eyes mist as I feel his power fully unleashed. I realize now how ignorant it was to think he would delay consummation until we had gotten to know one another.

I’m such a stupid girl.

I’m still lost in thought when his deep baritone shoots daggers straight into my being. “Take it off.”

Take it off? Take what off?

Panic grips me. I may be half naked, but no man has ever seen my bare body before. I use my free arm to cover as much skin as possible until he growls and snarls at me to pull the damned ribbon off. I jump, quickly working my small hand free from the loop before easing it from his thick wrist.

He shoots me a hateful glare before grunting and turning his back, shedding his shirt over his muscled shoulders. When he reaches for his dress pants, I begin backing away in slow, measured steps, certain I don’t want to lose my innocence to a man this violent.

I make it to the front door when he suddenly turns… his eyes no longer mercury-silver, but black globes of madness… as he launches at me.

The way he looks at me made shivers run down my spine. I am not a normal human, but the way he eyes me is like a predator looking at an object… so inhumane. So cold, so ruthless. Only now did I realize I am no longer just Willow… I am an object sold by my father in exchange for the so-called peace… a commodity.