Betrayed by his Luna

Making it difficult

*Madelyn*

He turns to face me fully, his features hard and callous. A shiver skitters along my spine as his gaze slowly, leisurely roams over me. I quite imagine he is envisioning me without my clothing.

Perhaps I deserve his unkind regard, but I won't back down. For my sister's sake, I will suffer whatever punishment he deems necessary in order to get beyond this insufferable state of our marriage. To a point. I won't let him force himself on me.

“So you’re now willing to welcome me into your bed?” he asks, mockingly.

I should have come during the day, when such a possibility wouldn't be an option because I know bedding takes place only at night, but I thought it would be easier to face him within the shadows. My mouth is suddenly dry, and I can find no way to dampen it, so my voice is scratchy when I say, “I’m willing to be your mate in more than name.”

He studies me a moment longer before demanding silkily, “Unbutton your bodice.”

My hand flies to my throat, my fingers skimming over the buttoned collar of my serge traveling dress. I glance hastily around. “Here?”

“We’re alone. Well, except for the dog, but Rover is not one to interfere or gossip. If you truly know of my reputation as you claim, then you know I don’t limit my bedding to bedchambers.” He jerks his chin toward me. “The buttons, Madelyn.”

At this moment, I despise him almost as much as I had when he had exiled me to his ancestral pack house. ‘I hate you!’ I had yelled, as he had departed the manor after informing me that I would stay in residence there while he returned to London. His dark laughter had echoed along the hallways and followed him into the stormy night.

Now, I want to turn on my heel and march from the room. I want to tell him to rot in hell. Instead, I tilt my head defiantly, meet his cold stare with one of my own, command my fingers not to tremble, and force them to loosen one blasted pearl button after another. Strange how I had not noticed the chill in the air until the material parts. It seems to take hours before my fingers finally reach the last button at my waist.

I think so much distance separates us, but he reaches me in five long strides, bringing with him the scent of lilac. He has come here not from his club but from another she-wolf’s bed. Tears once again burn the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. I won’t let him see how much he can devastate me without even trying.

For the first time, I think I might finally know what he had experienced on that long-ago night. It shames me that I had been so young and self-centered not to have realized it immediately.

He does deserve his revenge, however he means to exact it. I will do anything to put the past behind us.

His gaze still on mine, he places one finger on the hollow at my throat. A challenge. A dare. So be it. I won't retreat. He will see I am not the ninny I once was. I have had three years of managing his pack at the estate. It thrives beneath my watchful eye, and he has never even had the decency to thank me… the ingrate.

He dips his gaze and trails his finger down, his hand slipping beneath the cloth, further parting it to expose the swell of one breast above my chemise. I barely breathe as his other fingers join the first to skim over the exposed flesh. I am only grateful that he has lowered his gaze, so he can’t see the anticipation mixed with fear that is no doubt clouding mine. How can he stir these unwanted sensations with something as simple as a touch?

His fingers move slowly up, then back down, across one way, then the other. “Tell me, Madelyn, is all of you as enticing?”

My gaze clashes with his, and to my mortification, the heat of passion consumes me. Have I ever seen so much fire in eyes so dark? Yet, beneath it all, I can see the mockery. He wants me to desire him, so he can punish me all the more. I am certain of it.

I have created this villain with a moment's weakness, with a gossamer dream of a life far different from what had been unfolding before me. I had wanted to change my path and have been stumbling along it ever since.

I deign to ignore his smoothly delivered taunt, certain he will have his answer in short order. My heart beats erratically, my breathing refuses to settle into anything resembling normalcy. I have heard he is skilled at seduction, a master at eliciting pleasure. Strange how my knees suddenly wobble. It's the lack of air. I think I might swoon.

“You said you were in London because of a promise. What promise?” He sounds as though he is on the verge of strangling.

What promise indeed? Why am I here? I shake my head slightly to clear it, to focus on his question. “My… my sister. Beth. Father has arranged for her to marry Alpha Hester, a despicable man, so much older than she. With Father’s blessing, she has one mating Season to find another prospect. I know what it is to marry a man you barely know."

“Are you saying he forced you to marry me?” He asks.

“I’m saying I had no choice. How could you think otherwise when you were fully aware of the contract, when you never courted me or asked for my hand?” I shoot back.

His fingers jerk over my skin, his eyes probing mine as though he seeks evidence of deception. “So you will be a mate to me in order to save her? You could accomplish your goal by staying elsewhere in London.”

I consider telling him everything, but I don’t think it will sit well. The ranked she-wolves are not happy that my mate runs wild through the boudoirs, that he gives their own mates the notion that a man owes no fidelity to his mate. In order to receive invitations to the balls, in order to help my sister be accepted into pack Society, I have to bring my own mate to heel. But instead, I say, “You have influence. I must take my place beside you in order to properly introduce her into pack Society.”

“Which you no doubt see as a noble sacrifice.” He huffs.

My patience snaps. “For the Goddess sake, Bryant, I have asked for forgiveness, which you withhold, and I have told you that I wish to be your mate in all matters. Why must you make this so blasted difficult?”

“Because I no longer want you for my mate.” He growls.

My heart slams against my ribs, my stomach drops to the floor as he steps away. I had never even considered that he would refuse me. That he would make it difficult, that he would make me pay for my youthful indiscretions. But to not want me at all? He needs an heir. He needs a Luna. He has a mate.

“It’s late. I will have Willoughby prepare a guest room for you,” he says, his voice flat, back in control. “We’ll discuss this situation in the morning.”

He begins striding across the room.

“Where the devil are you going?” I call out after him.

But he doesn’t answer, doesn’t even glance back as he makes his exit from the room. Sinking to the floor, I allow the tears of humiliation to flow at last. How is it that my life has become such a frightful mess?