(III) - Next Time, Naked.
1530 Words
My mother was human; her match with my father was one that defied many odds, but it upset my father greatly when I came of age and didn't shift. What upset him even more was when the pack's seer had said I was more inclined to my human side and I had no beast residing in me like everyone else in my family did.
I wasn't as strong as they were, I wasn't as fast, and most importantly, I didn't heal as fast as they did.
I woke to the ache first.
Eyes burning from smoke and tears I didn't even realize had been shed.
I looked down with blurry vision, my eyes struggling to see my body's current state.
A dull, relentless throb under my skin, a hundred tiny stings where glass had sunk into me. My throat tasted like smoke. I was in a loose white dress I didn't remember putting on. Someone had bound my arms with clean strips of bandages, neat and tight.
I wasn't in my room. I was not on my bed.
Memory slammed back—metal shrieking, cars blooming into flame, the roar in my ears—
—and him stepping out of the trees like a verdict.
"Change of plans, princess."
I sat up too fast. The room tilted, changing color. Pain lanced through my ribs and I clutched my now bandaged chest, breathing carefully until the white at the edges of my vision faded.
I came down from the bed, legs unsteady.
Where am I?
My chest was tight with panic as my terrified eyes took in my unfamiliar surroundings.
The room was large, almost as large as mine back home, but from the sparse furnishings and dark colors I could tell it wasn't anywhere in Redthorn.
My pack liked luxury, even though most of the time we can't afford it.
That man...did he take me?
I had felt something before it all went dark, something strange, something that should've been impossible.
A hallucination maybe? I lost too much blood, I must have been imagining things.
I have no wolf. How can I have a fated mate?
Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening.
I smelled him before I saw him, which was strange considering my senses were as dull as a human's.
He filled the doorway without trying. Broad shoulders.
He wore a black T-shirt that hugged every inch of his muscular chest and torso, his exposed arms inked with black tattoos that climbed his throat and coiled around his fingers. Brown hair, damp at the ends. Thick stubble that looked like it would rasp if he dragged his jaw over skin. A faint scar notched his cheekbone.
And his eyes—goddess—his eyes were a shade I'd never seen. I was enthralled, enraptured by the sight of those violet orbs.
They looked like whirlpools; they felt like the Bermuda Triangle, pulling me in to my death.
It was danger.
He was danger.
I went very, very still.
"Finally awake." His voice was thick, deep and somehow managed to muddle my senses.
"And here I was thinking I would have to kiss you awake," he grinned. The sight of his lips stretching and his words sent a spark of anger flaring up in me.
He dares!
My eyes narrowed and I hoped he saw the disapproval in my eyes.
His grin never faltered.
He made his way to me, one step at a time, steps heavy and loud. His body was like a tower.
He was so tall, the closer he got, the harder it became to meet his eyes.
"Touch me and it will be the last thing you do." I took a quick step back, refusing to let him close the distance between us as my eyes darted around for any weapon I could use.
He'd attacked us; his pack of...rogues had lurked in those corners and were no doubt waiting for our cars to reach that road. They fully intended to kill me.
But why?
"Feisty," a low rumble left his throat. "Is that a promise?" He took a large stride forward, closing the distance between us before I could grab the lamp by the bedstand.
My eyes widened with shock at his sudden proximity.
"You break easy, princess," he said, voice rough silk, amused. "But you don't stay broken." His eyes roamed my bandaged form, his emotions unreadable.
He was too close to me. My stomach did a weird thing, and my limbs began to feel strange, a warm yet not uncomfortable feeling spreading through me, easing the aches ever so slightly.
It seemed as though he felt it too. That strange thing.
His brows raised; amusement—maybe—danced in those violet depths.
"Fascinating..." he breathed, and I could swear I felt the hot air from his lips against my skin.
"Who are you?"
Silence. My impatience grew, and so did my nervousness. This man can't be my mate; it's not possible!
"Where am I?" I hated that it came out breathless.
"My territory." He simply said, as if he expected me to know where exactly that was.
"You're patched and breathing. That's what matters," he nodded his head with a glint of approval in his gaze.
"I didn't ask you to patch me," I snapped. "I didn't ask you for anything, sir!"
The audacity of this man—he talks like he's doing me a favor!
He smiled like I had said something charming. "You're alive because my people pulled the glass out of you. Try 'thank you.'"
"I had glass in me because your people tried to kill me, and they killed everyone else..."
"Fair," he shrugged. "But you're still here, aren't you, princess?"
I was standing on bare feet, spine straightening the way Heather taught me. Proper. Unshakable. Even if my knees trembled.
"You don't get to hold me here," I said, every syllable clean as a blade. "I am the fiancée of Alpha Jerome of Orion Pack. You will release me, and you will apologize for what you did to his innocent men!"
His head tilted, the violet in his eyes darkening. "Oh, I know who you are, princess. Why do you think I wanted to kill you?" He took a step closer. The room shrank around him. "And you think I'm going to apologize?" He laughs, a sound that was devoid of any humor. "You belong to me now. We are mates after all," he said.
"I do not belong to you!"
"Tell that to your racing heart, princess."
Heat climbed my neck and rushed to my cheeks. "Who are you?"
He let the question sit a beat too long. Then, with lazy arrogance: "Kairox."
No title. No explanation. Just a name that fit his mouth like a weapon.
And it did the trick.
I knew exactly who he was.
The Alpha of the rogues.
Sworn enemy of Orion pack.
Sworn enemy of Redthorn pack.
Kairox.
His name vibrated under my skin. Whatever it was that made me unable to control my body's reactions tugged, as if it wanted me closer to him, to his scent, and I hated the weakness of it. Hated the way my body recognized him when my mind refused.
My mate.
A rogue.
"I am not yours," I said.
He stepped close enough that the clean pine-smoke of him crowded out everything else. Tattoos flexed over muscle as he braced one hand on the bedpost near my hip, caging me without touching. "All it takes is one kiss, princess...I'll melt you like butter with one kiss."
My palm moved before my thoughts did.
The slap cracked through the room. His head turned with it, a faint red blooming across his cheek, and silence stretched between us.
I gasped as I felt the sting on my palm; fear gripped me. There was nowhere to go—he had me trapped.
He was a rogue, a man who people call a barbaric monster, and I just hit him.
He looked back at me slowly, and something feral smiled behind his mouth.
"Mmm. That stung," he murmured, voice deep and sin-slick. His gaze dragged over my face, then lower, unapologetic. "Do it again, but naked this time."
My breath hitched—rage, humiliation, and a burn that simmered low in my belly had me stuttering. "You—You're vile!"
"And you're blushing," he said, delighted, as if he'd found a secret to chew on. He straightened, giving me space I hadn't earned. "Get your strength back. You're not going anywhere today."
I lifted my chin. "Watch me."
His eyes glowed, a warning flare. "Try, princess. I'm more than just a pretty face." He said it like a joke, but I heard the threat in those words, the warning I knew I wouldn't heed.
"I will see you soon." He smiled again, this time looking extremely pleased with himself.
He turned and left, the door closing shut behind him, and only when he was gone did I realize my hands were shaking.
I pressed my fingers to the sting in my palm and told myself the tremor was fury.
It had to be.
- Writer
