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1431 Words
His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly and the dark spots at the edges of my vision grew larger.
Then Dante let go of me, walking away and leaving me on the ground coughing and sucking in air desperately.
I was going to be his mate in name only.
Tears fell uncontrollably from my eyes and the intensity of Diana’s howls of pain in my head threatened to unmake me. I touched the tender skin on my neck. Was this how life in this foreign palace would be?
What exactly had I gotten into by being mated to Dante Orion?
A shadow fell over me and I looked up to see a kind-looking matronly woman gazing at me with concern, her head inclined.
“Welcome. I am Sophia Carter, your head lady-in-waiting, I will escort you to your room, Princess.”
I didn't feel like a princess as I took Sophia’s outstretched hand. Little did I know the worst of my pain was yet to come.
Life in the palace was as cruel as it was lonely. As the only werewolf, I was secluded. As the mate of Prince Dante, I was never disrespected by the court or staff, at least not directly.
As for my mate, Dante, I never saw him again after that day.
No, that wasn't true. I saw him at every official event that required our appearance as a couple. But he held himself apart. He never looked at me, never held me, never kissed me. Not even once.
Sophia always said he was busy growing his business but we both knew that was a lie. Dante hated me and I think I hated him too.
Then the King relapsed into his sickness. It was blood poisoning. A rare untreatable Lycan ailment.
I was on my way to visit him when I overheard a conversation I shouldn't have.
“...we have the best healers and the latest technology. He will heal even if I have to get human doctors here.”
I froze at the melodious sound of Dante’s voice, shocked at how it still affected me viscerally.
“We must prepare for the worst, Prince Dante.” The elder’s voice was solemn.
“I do not need an heir.” Dante spat out as though the very idea disgusted him, and I died a little bit inside.
I’d always wanted children someday. I had heard about how apparently it was extremely difficult for Lycans to conceive.
“Even a half-breed will do,” the elder said emphatically. “The council will not let a childless Lycan lead and—”
Dante growled menacingly, effectively silencing the older Lycan.
“You forget your place, Elder. Do so again and lose your head.”
The elder bowed deeply.
“I apologize, Prince Dante. Please consider—”
I turned away, unable to listen to the rest of the conversation. As if ignoring what I heard would make it disappear.
I was getting too good at that. Ignoring things like the side glances and hushed whispers about me at court events.
Ignoring the pitiful looks my maids and guards gave me any time I tried to talk to Dante only for him to ignore me and walk away.
I ignored it until I couldn't anymore.
“Tonight, you will visit the Prince,” Sophia informed me two days later, her eyes filled with compassion and sadness.
I began to shake. Only later would I realize that it wasn't just from pain and humiliation but also rage. After almost six months of ignoring my existence, Dante wanted us to make an heir to secure his right to the throne.
I wouldn't have gone but it was a chance to speak with Dante alone. One I hadn't gotten since coming to this palace. I couldn't waste it.
So, I let them scrub me clean, rub oils and scents on my skin, tease out my hair. And as I walked towards Dante’s room, I felt like a lamb primed for the slaughter.
I’d been sitting at the edge of Dante’s bed for over an hour before he walked in.
He was wearing a simple robe with silk pants that fell to his ankles, his chest bare. His ink-black hair fell over his forehead and while I could smell the booze this far away, his gray eyes were razor-sharp and clear.
His robe hit the ground and for whatever reason, my lungs refused to function properly, my heart raced in my chest as Dante walked towards me.
All the words I had to say, all my anger and protests disappeared.
Dante reached me and I shuffled back on his bed, scrambling to keep the distance between us.
Dante stayed silent, those gray eyes steady on me as he reached out, grabbing my leg and pulling me back towards him.
His hand on my thigh burned and I found myself shivering.
“I can't do this.” But the protest was weak as it left my lips.
Dante’s hand traveled up my thigh bunching up my nightdress while his other hand bared my shoulder, pulling my robe and the thin shoulder strap of my nightdress to the side.
My fingernails dug into the duvet, an unwanted moan building in the back of my throat.
“I can't,” I repeated.
Dante ignored me, as he leaned over dropping a kiss on my exposed shoulder.
The sudden heady shot of adrenaline and desire coursing through my veins had me fighting the urge to submit to him. An urge I thought was long erased by all of Dante’s cruelty.
“Please, Dante,” I begged, my voice trembling, a lone tear traveling down my cheek.
Dante paused, his face a perfect porcelain mask.
“You don't need to pretend. I know you overheard the conversation between Elder Hardt and I.” His voice was soft but no less cold.
It was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his caress as he traced the back of his hand down my cheek wiping away my tears and stopped at my chin. His thumb hovering over but not quite touching my lips.
“I will do my duty to my people even if it means being with someone I despise, Ivie. Someone like you.”
This was the moment it really sank in that my mate hated me.
My eyes burned with unshed tears.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
Dante didn't hesitate in his response.
“You are a lowly omega unworthy of being my mate. You schemed to deceive and seduce me to escape your pack, and I had to break the heart of the woman I love because of you.”
For the first time I heard something other than contempt in Dante’s voice, I heard pain.
He really loved Miranda, his ex-fiancé. He still loved her.
My cheeks were wet, and my words came out as a strangled sob.
“But I have no control over the bond, neither of us do. That night—”
Dante didn't let me finish.
“That night was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made,” he said unflinchingly.
His words hit me hard, my chest hurting as though someone had stabbed me. Diana didn't want to believe our mate’s cruel words while I just sat there trembling and utterly lost.
“Then what are you doing here?” I asked Dante.
“Today is your most fertile day according to the physicians and my duty comes before my emotions,” Dante shrugged, those callous gray eyes focused on me. “But I won't force myself on you, Ivie.”
Dante c****d his head slightly to the side. “Just tell me to stop.”
Dante kissed me. It should have felt terrible. I should have felt nothing but revulsion, but the mate bond wouldn't let me.
He tasted like home. He tasted addictive. And as his tongue swept into my mouth, I forgot when I had parted my lips for him.
Dante growled abruptly cutting our kiss short, his lips dipping to my nape like a man on a mission, his every lick, kiss and bite so urgent that I knew he was fighting his instincts to mark me.
I placed my hands on his shoulders fully intending to push him away but all I could do was tug him closer, my body soft and pliant beneath him.
Tell him to stop? That would have required speech and none of the sounds I was capable of making were intelligible.
- Writer
