He Knows
1140 Words
ARIA BLACKWOOD
The carriage ride to Blackwood Castle was supposed to be silent. Supposed to be… but nothing is silent when you’re sitting less than three feet from an alpha who spent the entire wedding ceremony fighting his own beast so it wouldn’t rip someone’s throat out.
We couldn’t stay for the reception. He was restless, on the verge of a complete breakdown.
I can feel him. Not just the scent, burning wood, pine, and something hot and metallic, but the tension rolling off him in waves. The rage barely leashed.
That too-controlled breathing that’s anything but natural. And I feel… f**k, I feel the wolf inside me clawing at my ribs.
For the first time in years, she wants out. I know how dangerous that is. I know it could ignite a war bigger than the one we just ended. But inside me, the wolf doesn’t give a damn. She just wants to come out and play with the other monster.
My mother was a brilliant strategist. She told me to count to ten if the mark ever burned for a male. She never told me what to do when your entire body recognizes a male you’re not even supposed to look at. His scent is driving me insane. I have to cross my legs once, twice, just to ease the ache building between my thighs.
“Stop squirming,” he says suddenly, not looking at me. His voice fills the carriage, deeper here, more dangerous. “It’s annoying.”
I straighten my spine. I refuse to look cornered in front of him. He’d notice.
“I’m not squirming,” I lie, even though my breathing betrays me.
He turns his head slowly, too slowly, and pins me with those dark eyes, like he’s trying to peel my skeleton out through my skin.
“You are,” he says, jaw clenched. “And you’re scared of me.”
I almost laugh. Of course I’m scared. Only an i***t wouldn’t be. He’s infamous for killing without mercy and for no reason at all. I heard the stories the entire time Lyria was engaged to him. I think people were trying to scare my sister out of the marriage, and it worked. She ran off with her fated mate.
My i***t wolf leans toward him, curious, like his presence is her new favorite treat. She’s never shown herself to me before. Only told me her name once: Nyra. And I have a feeling Nyra is about to get me into deep, deep trouble.
I fist my hands in my dress, trying to smother the scent she’s leaking when she’s this close to the edge, an aphrodisiac scent that’s as natural as it is cursed.
Stay down, I think. If you surface, you’ll kill someone. Or get me killed. Or worse, he’ll realize I’m not Lyria and kill me himself.
But she keeps scratching.
The carriage stops in front of the castle. Rohen steps out first, then, completely out of nowhere, offers me his hand.
I stare at it for three long seconds. His eyes narrow.
“I’m not going to bite you,” he says, irritation thick in his voice.
“I thought that was exactly what I was supposed to be afraid of.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, not a kind smile. “If I wanted to bite you, little impostor… you’d already be on the floor.”
My heart slams against my ribs. Not from the threat.
From the word little.
Fuck.
I place my hand in his because I have no choice. His skin is hot, too hot, like he just walked out of a battlefield. His fingers close around mine. Firm. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me he’s the alpha. And I’m the lie.
We walk into the castle.
The hall is empty except for guards lurking in the shadows, all of them watching me, scenting me, memorizing me so they don’t accidentally kill the wrong female.
I keep my head down the way Lyria would, but the wolf inside me lifts her chin and sniffs the air like she owns the place.
Rohen notices. He stops dead in the middle of the corridor. I nearly crash into his chest.
“What was that?”
“What?” I play dumb.
He leans in. His nose brushes my neck for one second, just one, and I almost drop to my knees from the alpha power pouring off him. My wolf presses against my ribs, delirious, starving for that touch.
He growls, low and rough, at the purr that vibrates from her. It’s barely audible, but it’s there.
“That,” he murmurs against my skin. “That just vibrated inside you. Who are you?”
“Lyria,” I lie.
My mark burns like hot iron. I bite my lip to keep from moaning. He closes his eyes, inhales deep… and pulls back. Like he’s holding himself back too.
“We’re going to the bridal suite,” he announces loud enough for every guard to hear. No weakness in his voice. No invitation. No open desire. Just pure alpha command.
We reach the bridal chamber. It’s massive, lit only by candles, a huge bed dominating the center. The air smells like old wood, blood, and raw male.
Rohen shuts the door behind us. I stand frozen, waiting for my death, or whatever comes next.
He stares at me for a long moment, then turns his back.
“Take off the dress,” he says, walking toward the fireplace, already unbuttoning his shirt.
My stomach drops. Anxiety and something else, something treacherous, flood me as my body reacts to every move the alpha makes. My breathing slows, gets heavy. I start counting in my head to regain some control, but it shatters the second Rohen shrugs off his jacket and the white shirt slides from his shoulders, hitting the floor.
His torso is carved muscle, broad, scarred, perfect in the most brutal way.
“W-what…” My voice cracks. My throat is dry. I wet my lips, press them together. “Are we… consummating?”
He throws a look over his shoulder, dark eyes piercing straight through me.
I swallow hard.
His answer is the last thing I expect tonight.
“No.”
I stare at him, stunned. He’s really not going to consummate? If he doesn’t, the treaty is void. Everything I’ve endured so far, just a private slice of hell for nothing.
“What?”
He turns fully, leaning back against the table, elbows propped, arms crossed over that wide chest. The firelight makes him look wilder. More imperfect. More… lethal.
“I’m not touching you tonight,” he says, each word heavy as iron. “Not while you’re wearing a scent that isn’t yours.”
My heart skips.
He knows.
- Writer
