The wedding night.
1103 Words
Selina had always imagined her wedding day—just not like this.
There were no flowers, no laughter, no vows spoken from the heart. Just cold stone walls, a suffocating silence, and the ever-watchful eyes of a pack that saw her as nothing more than a trophy.
The gown she wore was a mockery of purity—white silk stained with the ashes of her fallen home. The veil, though delicate, felt like a shroud. Her heart beat steadily beneath it, not from excitement, but from simmering fury.
When she stepped into the grand hall of the Blackthorn fortress, a hush fell over the crowd. Every eye turned to her with amusement, curiosity, and disdain. They saw a conquered princess, the enemy’s daughter now bound to their Alpha. A living prize of war.
And at the end of the aisle stood Damien Blackthorn.
Dressed in black, he was the embodiment of everything she loathed—arrogance, power, and control. His cold silver eyes met hers without a flicker of emotion. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He simply watched.
When the officiant began the binding ritual, Selina’s fists clenched inside her sleeves.
“I, Damien Blackthorn, Alpha of this pack,” he said, voice steady and unyielding, “take Selina Kane as my wife. By right of conquest.”
The words stung, but not nearly as much as what came next.
“Selina,” the officiant prompted softly.
She stared at Damien, her lips parted, the rage rising like a wave inside her. Then, she turned toward the gathering.
“I do not consent to this farce,” she said, her voice sharp and clear. “This is not a wedding. This is imprisonment.”
Gasps echoed across the hall. Several pack members whispered. Some chuckled.
Damien didn’t flinch. “Her consent is irrelevant,” he said flatly. “She is mine.”
The ritual was completed despite her protest, and the magical mark appeared faintly across her wrist—a binding symbol that marked her as his. The crowd erupted in mixed responses: cheers, mock applause, and satisfied grins.
It was done.
~~
The "wedding chamber" was dimly lit and cold, despite the roaring fire in the hearth. Heavy drapes blocked any moonlight, and thick shadows stretched across the stone floor.
Selina stood still as the door shut behind her. Damien leaned against a pillar by the fireplace, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on her like a predator sizing up his prey.
“Well,” he drawled, “you certainly know how to steal a spotlight. The pack won’t forget your little display.”
She didn’t respond.
“You do realize,” he continued, stepping toward her slowly, “that you’re mine now. Legally. Magically. Politically. No one can help you. Not even your father.”
Selina’s jaw clenched. “You’re disgusting.”
He smirked. “Thank you for the compliment.”
“You think forcing a girl into marriage proves your strength?” she snapped. “It only proves what kind of coward you are.”
In a flash, he closed the distance between them, grabbing her wrist and yanking her closer. She gasped but didn’t flinch. They stood extremely close, feeling each other’s breath. Damian looked at Selina, and his eyes traveled over her body.
“You don’t get to speak to me like that,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “I could make you regret every word.”
“Then do it,” she hissed.
There it was—something flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Not lust. Something else.
He held her there for a moment longer, his grip tightening. “Fine then, let me show you, he then attacked Selina’s neck and his hand held her waist tightly, his hand slowly moving upwards towards Selina’s breast.
Selina closed her eyes and bit her lips before she said, “Show me just how much of a monster you really are.”
And then… he let go.
Selina stumbled back, blinking in confusion.
“I’ve met monsters,” she spat, rubbing her wrist. “And you? You’re worse than all of them.”
Damien turned away, facing the fire. The flames reflected off his eyes, and for a moment, he looked almost human.
He spoke again, voice quieter this time. “You think you know what monsters are? You think this—all of this—came from nothing?”
Selina stared at his back, waiting for more.
“There are things,” he continued slowly, “that happen to a man… things that twist him. Break him. Mold him into something the world learns to fear.”
He stopped.
Selina took a step forward. “What happened to you?”
A long silence.
His shoulders tensed.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, shutting the thought down. “You wouldn’t understand anyway.”
“Try me.”
He turned to her again, and the mask was back on. “I’m not here to open wounds, Selina. I’m here to make sure you remember who holds the leash.”
Whatever vulnerability she thought she had seen was gone—sealed behind walls too high to scale.
He walked past her, brushing her shoulder on the way to the far side of the room. “Sleep on the bed if you want. Or the floor. I won’t touch you tonight.”
She turned sharply. “What game are you playing?”
“No game,” he said without turning. “You called me a monster. But monsters know patience.”
Selina narrowed her eyes, studying the man before her. He was dangerous, yes—but not just in the way she expected. There was something beneath the surface. Something boiling. Something hidden.
She sat on the edge of the bed; the silk sheets cool against her fingertips. “You’ll get bored of this soon,” she muttered.
“I never get bored,” Damien replied.
“And I don’t break.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Then we’ll see which of us outlasts the other.”
She didn’t respond.
The fire crackled. The silence grew thick again.
Eventually, Damien moved to a separate chair near the window and sat, arms crossed, watching her from across the room. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He just watched.
Selina lay down stiffly on the bed, keeping her eyes on him, refusing to look vulnerable even in exhaustion.
But as her breathing slowed and her eyes finally closed, a single thought lingered in her mind:
He had all the power.
And yet—for a fleeting moment—he had hesitated.
- Writer
