The Alpha’s Wrong Bride

Episode4

I am not Wren, a voice snapped in my head. And I will not become another trophy broken in his collection.

With a sudden, violent surge of adrenaline, I slammed my hands flat against his broad chest and shoved with every bit of remaining strength I possessed.

The unexpected resistance caught him completely off guard. Damion stumbled back a full step, his boots scraping sharply against the polished wooden floorboards. The sudden loss of his heavy, burning weight left a freezing void against my skin, making me shiver as I scrambled backward on the mattress, dragging the torn satin of my gown around me to shield my chest.

For few seconds, neither of us moved.

Damion stood in the center of the dark room, his massive chest heaving beneath his unbuttoned shirt. The dark, possessive hunger in his silver-flecked eyes didn't vanish, it twisted into something far more dangerous, a cold, calculating shock that quickly hardened into an impenetrable wall of ice. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and smoothed down the front of his shirt, his jaw ticking as the wild beast beneath his skin roared in frustration at the sudden denial.

He didn't yell. He didn't lunge back across the bed to reclaim what he had started.

Instead, a chilling, humorless smirk touched the corner of his mouth. He looked at me not with passion, but with the cold, detached appraisal of a predator inspecting a stubborn prey.

"Keep your pride, Mara," Damion's voice dropped back into its flat, emotionless tone, entirely stripping away the raw heat from moments before.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned his back on me with lethal grace. He walked across the room, pulled open the heavy oak door without a backward glance, and stepped out into the hallway. The door swung shut behind him with a heavy, final click, the turning of the deadbolt echoing in the silent night like a gunshot.

I was left alone in the dark, trembling violently, my skin still aching with a burning, unfulfilled need—and a terrifying realization that the game had only just begun.

….

The key turned in the lock with a sharp click.

I didn't move. I sat on the edge of the narrow bed in the small, dark room, pulling my knees up under the rough wool blanket Mrs. Gable had thrown to me last night. My fingers were still raw from yesterday’s hard work, the skin stained gray with coal dust that wouldn't wash off.

The heavy wooden door swung open.

It wasn't Mrs. Gable.

Damion stood in the doorway, filling the small space. He had just come back from outside. His leather straps were wet with morning dew, and the faint smell of wolf-blood hung in the air around him. He looked cold, hard, and impossible to break.

"Stand up," he said.

It wasn't a question.

I stayed where I was, staring down at my worn-out boots. "I'm already awake, Alpha. You can tell Mrs. Gable the floors are clean."

He let out a low sound, partway between a laugh and a growl. His heavy boots scraped on the stone floor as he walked across the small room. He stopped right in front of me, so close I could feel his body heat against the cold air.

"Look at me, Mara."

I kept my eyes down, staring at his belt.

"I said, look at me."

His hand reached out. His fingers were thick and rough, smelling of pine and iron. He put his fingers under my chin and lifted my face up. His thumb brushed my left cheek, pressing just hard enough to make me tense up.

"Your sister is thirty miles north of here," he said softly, his deep voice making the hair on my arms stand up. "She’s gone into hiding with her love, who’s unable to take care of her."

I caught my breath. Even though I was angry at her for running away and leaving me behind, a sudden protective feeling hit my chest. "She's a fool," I whispered.

"She is," Damion agreed. His thumb moved to my lower lip, tracing it slowly. "She left behind all her expensive clothes and things. And she left you here to face the danger."

"You haven't killed me yet."

"Haven't I?" A dark smile crossed his face. He leaned down until his forehead touched mine. "You think scrubbing floors until your hands bleed is a punishment? That’s just the beginning. Tonight, the council is meeting. They want to know why I married a girl who smells like soap instead of a rich lady."

I finally forced my eyes up to meet his silver-iced gaze. "Then tell them the truth. Tell them you were tricked. Send me back to the kitchens where I belong."

"And let your father think he can win?" Damion’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light. "No. The marriage is done. You stood at my altar, Mara. You lied to my face in front of everyone."

He stepped closer, trapping me between his heavy body and the stone wall. The strong, pulling feeling of our bond—the connection we both tried to ignore, made my head spin.

"Get up," he said, wrapping his hand firmly around my wrist. "The pack wants to see their new Luna. And I want to see how long you can keep that proud look on your face before you realize you can't win."