Alpha's Chosen Mate

6

LEILANI

T

here’s a foul taste in my mouth and a Goddess-awful ache in my head. Sunlight streams in through the window, so bright it nearly blinds me. Groaning, I fumble for the sheets and pull them over my face, ignoring the faint sound of metal dragging over the floor. “Camille? The curtains…”

No response. That’s odd. My maid is usually up here before dawn, making enough noise to wake the dead. Stretching, I try reaching for the blinds, but something cold and harsh yanks my wrist back. There’s that cursed metallic scraping sound again.

My eyes snap open as I feel the cool links of a…chain? I jolt upright, but my feet won’t budge. What in the—I gasp at the clasp around my right wrist. There’s another chain linked to my ankle. Frantic and confused, I look around, and my heartbeat stutters when I don’t recognize where I am.

The splitting headache worsens as I try and fail to remember last night. I’m still in my wedding dress. Perhaps the wedding went on and Beta Manuel has me confined to this room. Why can’t I remember anything? How much did I drink last night?

The doorknob to the tall iron door twists, and it squeaks miserably as it turns. A woman dressed in uniform—a plain white shirt and blue pants—and wearing a hateful scowl walks in with a tray. I catch a glimpse of guards outside before the door shuts behind her. “Where’s Beta Manuel? I would like to speak to him.”

She ignores my question, setting the tray of food and water down on the stool closest to me. Her eyes burn with a hatred so intense it sends a jolt through me. “This is all you’ll be getting today, and it’s way more than you deserve.” Her thick northern accent delivers the words more cruelly than I would have imagined possible.

Roughly, she tugs the sheets off me, holding them as though they carry a plague. When I repeat my question, she looks at me like I’m crazy. “There’s no one by the name Manuel here, girl. Be glad the Dark Alpha was in a benevolent mood yesterday, or else you’d be well on your way to the depths of hell.”

No one has ever expressed such hate for me before. It’s jarring. But what’s even more disturbing is the mention of the Dark Alpha. I must have heard wrong. “W-where am I?” I stammer.

“The Dark Moon Pack.”

For the hour after she leaves, I sit at the foot of the bed, taking in my surroundings with surprising calm. There’s only one window, barred and too small to climb through. The clasps of my chains are made of iron, just like the door, which makes them unbreakable—for me, at least. The brick walls are so thick that ramming my fist into one of them only gets me a busted knuckle.

The chains limit me to the restroom, no farther. The sorry excuse for a closet is empty. There are no objects in here that could serve as potential weapons. I can’t summon my wolf, not even to just grow claws. The tray that holds my breakfast could cut into the skin of a human if I hit them hard enough, but it’d take more than that to bring down the bulky guards outside my door.

I can’t escape.

By the second hour, my frustration morphs into desperate rage. I try to coax the guards into taking the chains off under the guise of wanting a bath. They don’t respond to me.

So I start trashing the damned room, hurling everything I can lift into the wall and door and screaming, “Let. Me. Out!”

By the fourth hour, —my prison is wrecked, my knuckles and wrists are bleeding, and my chest heaves with panicked sobs. I can’t remember a damn thing from last night after asking for another glass of Everclear. How can I be here? The Dark Moon Pack is forbidden territory, situated several hours away from home. Does Father know I’m gone? Does he know the psychotic alpha has me? After seeing those photos of me, does he care? How did I even get here?!

I run for the door again, managing to kick it before the chains yank me back. Pain explodes in my wrist and I groan, “f*****g hell.” I cradle my hand to my chest and glare at the door. Maybe if I stare hard enough, I can burn holes through the iron.

Heavy steps thud in the distance. My ears perk up at the sound of a male’s voice, so deep and cold that I shudder. “You’re dismissed.”

Another heartbeat later, the door opens. I see his boots first, black and pristine. My gaze rises to a pair of tailored white pants that would be favored by a human businessman, not a werewolf. I keep taking him in: a designer belt, black polo shirt, and massive arms. He has a full sleeve of tattoos—writing that curls into the shape of a black dragon. Sharp jaw, no beard. An arrogant nose.

His clear eyes survey the room and the destruction I’ve wreaked with complete disinterest. “You’ve been naughty, Leilani.”

I blink. I know that voice, that face, those eyes. With an ache, a memory surfaces from last night: a black suit and the faint scent of winter, cologne, and something darker. Something forbidden. Yes. Marry me. My cheeks catch fire and my anger is temporarily forgotten as I stare up at him. “You abducted me.”

He merely says, “We can hardly call it that, since you were begging for it. I saved you.”

I push my shackled, aching wrist forward. “You call this saving me?!”

He really looks at me for the first time since entering the room, and his stare remains empty. “I couldn’t know for sure that I wasn’t bringing a wild animal into my home.” Inclining his head to the ruined room, he murmurs, “Turns out, you’re completely feral.”

My lips draw back into a snarl at the insult. “Take them off. Take me back.”

He sinks to one knee in one graceful move and I instinctively scuttle back. Cool fingers grasp my wrist and tug me forward. A cry slips from my throat as I fall to my knees before him.

Softly, almost hypnotically, he says, “You’re in no position to make demands, princess.” He strokes an elegant finger over my bruised wrist with surprising gentleness, and warmth, unexpected and unnerving, unfurls in the pit of my belly. “Be good, and this will be over quickly. Or not. I don’t mind a challenge.”

My throat closes painfully and my fists clench. “I’m not playing this game with you. I wasn’t in my right mind. You knew that, and you took full advantage of it. Release me now, before my father gets wind of this.”

He chuckles darkly and the fine hairs on my arms stand up. Another deliberate stroke on my bare skin makes me wince. “Do you see how frightened I am? I’m trembling. Convulsing, even.” In a second, his smile disappears, replaced with a blank stare, and he straightens, tossing my hand in my lap like the thought of touching me disgusts him. “Enya.”

I hadn’t noticed we weren’t alone until the maid from earlier steps forward. Unlike before, she looks meek and compliant. Her head bows submissively and her gaze stays glued to the floor. “Alpha,” she answers sweetly. I’d bet my entire inheritance that they’re f*****g.

“Clean up this mess.” When he says “mess,” I think he means me. To affirm my suspicion, he peers down at me with contempt. “The pack colors should do for the wedding dress.”

My spine straightens as I repeat, “Wedding?”

Coldly, he replies, “Yes, our wedding.”