Alpha's Chosen Mate

16

My fingers graze the doorknob, but the sound of his voice stops me before I twist it. “Asher Wilde?” Christian asks gruffly, and it isn’t his cold tone that causes a shiver to snake down my spine. It’s those two words. One name. One man. Asher Wilde is the monster in the fairytales we grew up listening to—the bloodthirsty alpha who painted our lands red with the blood of our own. His vengeance chased us this far to the south, desperate to avoid his wrath. Some claim he’s a madman who gains pleasure from terrorizing his own kind.

I’m unsure which motivation is correct—revenge or sadism—but judging from his last attack and how many we had to bury afterward, I’d put money on the latter.

But why is he talking about Asher Wilde?

A small thud and female laughter drift through the door. “He has her. Safe to say she’s as good as dead now.” A throaty moan makes my shoulders tense and my fingers tremble as I quietly twist the knob. I see the red couch first, then the fur coat hanging off it, along with a designer bag with red lipstick peeking out of it. “You seem upset,” the woman pants, and my gaze rises to the mirror.

Something painful lodges in my throat, stealing my ability to breathe. A woman is pressed against the desk, her flushed cheeks pressing into papers and old books. Her lips part as Christian grips her hips roughly, pulling her back as his hips buck forward. His green eyes are cold with disinterest and anger as he pulls out of her and thrusts back in with a rich, languid stroke. “Why abduct her just to announce it right after? Why hasn’t he killed her?”

My eyes burn with tears and I take a step back, like I used to when I visited and realized Leilani was home. But I don’t run this time, because this is my home. My pack. And that is my husband, f*****g another woman when he won’t even look at me.

The woman groans, biting her bottom lip as she grinds back into Christian. “Who knows?” She gasps and clutches the edge of the table. “If I had any doubts he’s crazy, they’re gone with the news that he mated with the little cunt⁠—”

Christian seizes her by her hair and yanks her back against his chest. “Mate?” he grunts into her ear. “They’re mated?”

Her side profile, now clear in the mirror, sends my anger boiling over. Camille? He’s screwing Leilani’s maid?

Camille winces as she reaches up to disentangle his fingers from her hair, but he just holds on tighter. “I overheard Mardoc and Morris talking about it. Morris thinks he should give into the crazy alpha’s demands, but Mardoc is adamant that he’ll never give up the pack and bend the knee to a murderous stranger. He’s gambling with his daughter’s life. He believes there’s a reason Asher Wilde chose to mate with her instead of killing her. He thinks…” She whimpers painfully when Christian tugs harder. “He thinks they might be mates. Morris doesn’t agree.”

Christian stills, those brilliant eyes of his darting left and right like they usually do when he’s deep in thought. In a matter of seconds, I see a variety of emotions flicker in his eyes—all for Leilani, even if he’s balls-deep in Camille—and that strikes a nerve too deep inside me to ignore.

I love you, Lei.

I push the door open and they both jump, glancing in my direction.

Camille’s eyes widen and she scampers forward, trying to hold the front of her blouse closed as she pulls down her skimpy skirt. I don’t pay her much attention. I’m unable to look away from Christian, who pushes his d**k back into his pants, his lips curled with displeasure. “You shouldn’t be up here, Georgia.”

My nostrils flare. “That’s the first thing you say to me when I walk in on you with another woman? I shouldn’t be here? Why, so I wouldn’t see this?” I gesture between both of them and sneer at how Camille trembles as she grapples for her bag. Something in my chest shatters. Did Leilani feel this hurt carving at my insides? This searing pain? I point at Camille. “Why her? She’s the f*****g help!”

Camille darts toward the door, trying to avoid me, but I grab her black curls in my fist. She struggles against me, pushing and whimpering, but she’s a lowly omega. She’s a nobody, reaching too high and picking fights she’ll never win.

Her purse falls to the floor and fearful black eyes meet mine. “G-Georgia⁠—”

Cold laughter slips past my lips. “Do you think f*****g my husband grants you the right to call me by name? Did you forget who funds your little brother’s treatments? Whose money ensures that he stays alive? How do you think Mardoc will react when he discovers that you’re spying on him?”

Tears fill her eyes, but so does hatred. “Luna Georgia, please.”

I pull her close until I can see my reflection in her eyes. “The day this happens again is the day your brother joins your parents in the afterlife.” I drag a nail along her sharp cheekbones. “Maybe I’ll take your pretty face too, so no one ever wants to f**k you again.”

Her body shakes and the smell of her fear appeals to every instinct that screams at me to tear out her throat. I bet she’ll die easily, like all omegas do.

I bare my teeth, feeling my canines elongate in anticipation. Her pulse pounds sweetly, calling to my anger, but before I can indulge it, Christian grabs my shoulder. Breathing through my nostrils, I fight for control, and my hold on Camille loosens.

She flees, sobbing, and it isn’t until her cries fade that I turn to look at him. His eyes are cold and empty, without remorse or guilt. I don’t realize I’m moving until my palm connects with his cheek. “Bastard! How could you do this to me? To us?”

He does nothing, says nothing, which only infuriates me further. I pound my fists into his chest, sobbing and yelling, “I hate you!” He lets me. Only after my strength has waned does he react.

Christian takes my wrist and watches me with unnerving calm. “Control yourself, Georgia. This behavior is unbecoming of a luna.”

Tears streak down my cheeks as I stare up at him in pure disbelief. “f**k that. f**k you. You’re sick in the head. How many women have you brought up here since our wedding?”

His brow arches in amusement. “Odd that you would care. You did the same thing to your best friend without batting an eye.” He c***s his head, studying me closely. “Are you hurt, Georgia?” He reaches forward and I snarl when his thumb brushes underneath my eyes, wiping away my tears. He chuckles at my reaction and turns his back on me.

I know what comes next. This has happened too many times in the past few weeks. This is when Christian dismisses me and I return to my room, cry myself to sleep, wake up to more flowers, and pretend it never happened.

I clench my fists, choking on a sob. “Do you love me at all, Chris?”

He glances over his shoulder at me. “Of course I do. You’re my wife.” It sounds unfeeling, like he’s reading from a script.

“Are you in love with me?”

This time, he actually looks me in the eye. “I’ve only ever been in love with one woman, and that will never change.”

Leilani.