CHAPTER 2
1115 Words
MABEL’S POV
My body slammed against the side of the balcony as I dangled above the ground, my heart pounding violently in my chest.
“Please pull me up,” I screamed. I could barely recognize my own voice. I could barely make out the face of the man holding me between life and death.
“Please help me,” I cried again, but I noticed he made no attempt to pull me up. He just left me hanging there. From this height, it felt like my senses had sharpened. When did the city become this loud? It was almost like I could hear every car moving and honking, every passerby walking along the pavement, unaware that someone was hanging eighteen feet above them.
“Aren’t you going to help me up?” I screamed at the stranger, panic and anger mixing in my voice.
“A little feisty for someone who casually threw herself off a balcony a moment ago,” he said mockingly.
“It was a mistake,” I pleaded. Since he hadn’t let me fall to my death yet, that had to be a good sign, right?
“That’s not what I saw,” he answered. “You were from the wedding, right?”
“Yes,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Can you pull me up? This isn’t exactly the best position for chitchat, you know,” I said, trying to remain calm despite my heart hammering loudly in my ears.
“I would, but on one condition,” he said.
I instantly frowned. I knew what this was. My father was a wealthy businessman, and I came from a bloodline of betas, so obviously that made us a target for people who wanted our money. This man was no helper. He was one of those people, and I had just played right into his hands.
I sighed. “How much do you want? Five million? Ten million? Name your price and I’ll send it to you instantly.”
He chuckled. I still couldn’t make out his face because his hair covered most of it, but his voice sounded nice, and if I wasn’t so afraid of falling, I probably would have melted at the sound.
Greedy bastard.
“Thirty million dollars,” I hissed.
“I don’t want your money, baby girl,” he teased. “I want you.”
I blinked several times, wondering if I had heard him correctly. “You want s*x in exchange for saving me?” I half screamed.
“As if.” He scoffed. “You ain’t exactly the type of woman I fancy,” he hissed, as if the mere thought of finding me desirable was absurd.
“Then what do you want?”
“I told you, baby girl. I want you to be mine. You know… like property. Something I own and can use whenever and however I like,” he said as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“No.”
“No?” I imagined him raising an eyebrow. “I suppose I’ll let you continue your trip to the ground then.”
“Please don’t,” I shrieked.
“Then agree to be my property,” he said like a maniac.
I stared down at the ground, suddenly lightheaded as tears streamed down my face. I did not want to die, and I definitely did not want to become anyone’s plaything.
“Please let me up,” I cried. “I would do anything else. I have money. I could pay you,” I said, hoping he still had even a little Good Samaritan spirit left in him.
He shook his head. “I would have you know that crying does nothing for me. You either become my property, or you die.”
My tears paused momentarily. “Are you really going to kill me?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t. You were the one who tried to kill yourself. I’m only trying to help you, but I can’t help you unless you help yourself,” he said calmly. “So what do you say, baby girl? Agree to be my property or die. You have ten seconds to decide.”
I swallowed hard, my heart racing so fast I wondered if becoming someone’s property would hurt any less than falling to my death. Especially if that someone was as heartless as this faceless stranger.
“Seven.” His grip on my hands loosened slightly. “Six.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I screamed back, my eyes squeezed shut.
“What did you say?” he asked with a dangerous grin.
“Yes, I’ll be your property,” I whimpered.
I wondered if he hadn’t heard me the first time because he gave no reaction, but after a few seconds, he finally reached for me and pulled me over the railing like I weighed nothing.
I collapsed to the floor the moment I was safely back on the balcony, shaking feverishly. I couldn’t believe I had almost died.
Then, almost instantly, I caught a strong cinnamon scent. Warm. Safe. Comforting. It slowed my heartbeat, calming me and making me feel secure again. I inhaled deeply and looked up to see where the scent was coming from, only to frown when I realized it was coming from the devil incarnate who had nearly watched me die.
Mate.
What the actual f**k?
Did the Moon Goddess hate me that much? I had just watched my ex-mate marry my stepsister, and now she was pairing me with this sick man.
“Hell no,” I hissed angrily.
He frowned slightly before returning to his usual emotionless expression. Now that I was no longer hanging off the balcony, I could finally make out his face, and he was drop-dead gorgeous. Really, why did the most evil people always have to be this handsome? His dark hair cascaded around his face, and he had the most beautiful yet intimidating eyes I had ever seen.
“Don’t think this changes our agreement. You are still my property. Mate or not,” he said coldly. “Besides, I have no need for a weakling as a mate.”
I scoffed as I stood up. “I don’t want you either.”
He looked me up and down. “Nice outfit,” he said with so much venom that I instantly knew it was an insult.
Before I could think of a comeback, he turned away.
“I’ll see you again when I need you.”
There was no time to ask what exactly he planned to use me for because my father was already heading in our direction
- Writer
