Hellfired

Their Shared Soul Mark

Bam!

"We're going down."

Arien gasped, turning around in surprise to the direction of the previously locked door. The Alpha was standing there, a furious look on his face.

"Are you deaf, now?"

She hid her hand behind her back, not wanting him to make fun of her more than he already was. "You said not to–"

"Change into this," Rayven said, throwing a bundle of dark red fabric to the floor before him. "Be ready in half an hour." He slammed the door shut, leaving her to her own thoughts.

Arien looked suspiciously at the garment. Upon picking it up and turning it around, she knew it was made from quality products. It must be expensive, unlike her passable pyjamas.

He must have planned something for her. Something she wished she never knew. Or, he was forced to get her down to the party. If so, it must be due to the pack's rule. She was just his pawn, after all. Even so, Arien headed to the bathroom and cleaned up. It was no use resisting his order now.

Whatever would happen down there, it wouldn't be worse than what he could do to her in their private chamber. She wasn't driven by her fear of him. It was a measure she had to take to survive.

Half an hour later, Rayven appeared from the opened door as promised. A grave expression on his face. She could only detect hate there. She put up the same look.

"Listen here, Crowne," his voice was stern, rigid, with no soft edge. "You will speak to no one unless I allow it. You will keep your head down unless I want you to look up. And you will do nothing unless I say so. Do you understand?"

Arien considered giving him a cold retort, certain that he would not hit her just minutes before he showed her to the world. But, the

Still, she felt his sharp eyes undressing her from the dark red dress covering her body with elegance. The fabric was cool and smooth on her skin. The collar was up to her neck, covering the Soul Mark she shared with Rayven. It dropped to her legs but fitted nicely with her body, accentuating her breast and hips. The long sleeves ended at her wrist, fortunately hiding the newest unknown addition to her skin.

She didn't know who picked this dress, but they did a great job. In hiding the Alpha's leftover beatings, she meant.

Arien brushed it off and nodded at the immaculately dressed man before her, "Whatever you want."

They left the chamber after Rayven locked it up again. Walking down the silent hallway, Arien wondered who was powerful enough to make the Alpha go back on his words. "Why now?"

Rayven didn't say a word, but his left hand pushed the small of her back, urging her forward.

The party was held at the Grimcrest Pack's main estate. The Alpha's private chamber was at the west wing, while the pack's internal business was at the east wing. On the other hand, the main estate was held to do political business and the likes that involved outsiders. Now, however, it was used to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday.

What a laugh.

The last time she stepped onto a red carpet was last year. She also wore a floor-length white gown covered in lace, leaving her shoulders bare to show the world that she was Rayven's mate. When she slipped into it, she felt like sacrificial prey.

She has the same feeling now.

With the Rayven hand still at the small of her back, Arien stepped inside the main estate with her minimal updo, teeth-bitten nails, and perfect dress and felt like a fraud as soon as she was on the carpet. No one dared to look away. After all, she was mated to the powerful Alpha of Grimcrest Pack.

Self-doubt ate her inside out, but she had been with Rayven long enough to put up a heavily faked smile.

She was officially married to the most authoritative figure of the whole pack. And most importantly, she was the Alpha's fated mate.

The crowd knew nothing about their real relationship behind locked doors. She could only trust herself.

Arien tilted her chin up, pulled her shoulders back, and walked into the fray.

This event was a smaller affair than some of the parties held by the neighboring pack, but it was definitely way merrier than she had envisioned.

Invited werewolves from another packs smiled in front of a wall of leaves. The leaves merged with the main door, creating a tunnel for attendees to walk beneath.

"Oh, isn't it Mr and Mrs Redwell?"

Arien flicked her eyes up, feeling the Alpha's hand squeeze her back. A silent sign for her to greet whoever it was calling them over. "It's Arien Crowne," she hurriedly said, "I kept my last name. Besides, Rayven wouldn't have it any other way."

Her words shocked both parties, and she would pay for it later. But she wanted to have something for her late deceased father.

"Jessica Fowl, glad you can make it." Rayven extended a hand to shake, a purely formal gesture. However, the way Jessica licked her lips and looked at him up and down like he was a snack she wanted to indulge in.

Arien was not jealous. It wasn't like her relationship with Rayven was anything to write about. Forced marriage and a lack of a mating bond were not her cups of tea.

Once Jessica was done drooling over the Alpha, she was shepherded by the household staff to a nearby bar. Rayven sent her a displeased look, but he knew he could take it on her later when they were alone.

The main room was large, open and inviting, with plush carpets over hard stone floors and plenty of places to sit. The multiple conversations from the pack members and outsiders created a pleasing background noise as servers mill about, dispensing flutes of champagne. Guests perched on antique chairs and fancy benches, laughing, drinking, and enjoying themselves.

Bluish light slanted through the wide double doors at the back of the room. Male and female werewolves in their finest clothes come and go from the balcony, drinks in hand, seemingly waiting for the Alpha.

Once they took notice of Rayven's dominating presence, the high-ranking figures in the werewolf community looked at Arien surreptitiously. She could feel the weight of their gaze, sizing her up. The tension broke when a slim man slipped to the feast table, and a brown cub yapped at delicious-looking barbecued ribs served there.

"My Lord!" a sturdy man, almost as big as Rayven, swept down a set of stairs, arms open in welcome. His greying hair was tied at the nape, tips touching the rim of his green suit.

"Lorean." He was the retired alpha's closest beta. Previously tasked with decision-making, Rayven freed him of the task and now made him in charge of every big event within the pack's ground.

"You bring your mate," Lorean bowed his head at the Alpha, barely acknowledging her except for a quick formal glance. "My dear lady, you are a vision."

'If only that was true,' Arien thought, resisting the urge to snap and tell them the truth.

"Where's Torben?"

"Right this way, my Lord." Lorean brought them away from where the guests enjoyed the party – her party. Through a double door, they were quickly greeted with a simple yet lavish room.

Inside, three people lounged on couches around the fireplace. The most prominent of them was an old man sitting on the only high armchair, slimmer than the beta but with the same grey hair. His half-lidded eyes held wisdom and the look of someone from a warring era.

A fitting feature for the retired alpha of the Grimcrest Pack. Rayven didn't bother with a greeting. "You want to see me?"

Torben, the retired alpha, nodded, "Mind your manner, child. These are your elders."

True to his words, all seven pairs of eyes stared at the Alpha, slightly annoyed. They were Torben's inner circle. Of course, they would agree with him. Arien felt a kind of pleasure seeing Rayven be put in his place.

But, "I thought Grimcrest Pack holds strength over numbered days?" Rayven challenged back and made a point by sitting on the empty couch with hands on the backrest and crossed feet on the low table.

Arien looked around from under her eyelashes. No other vacant seat for her.

"Why standing around, my dear?" Torben's wrinkled face showed sincerity, but Arien dreaded sitting so close to Rayven when he was clearly displeased by it. Not that she wanted to either way.

Before she could reply, Rayven tugged her hand without warning, making her stumble and land on his lap. Her face was very close to his–