The Alpha’s Regret, The Rogue’s Claim

The Wolf's Den

Sienna woke up to the smell of woodsmoke and roasting meat.

She kept her eyes closed. For a moment, she let herself believe she was back in the servants' quarters. She imagined Greta was downstairs cooking breakfast. She imagined the nightmare of the Blood Moon Ball had never happened.

Then she tried to move.

Pain shot through her body. It radiated from her frozen feet up to her bruised ribs. It was a sharp reminder.

She was not home. She was not safe.

Sienna opened her eyes.

She was lying on a pile of thick furs. They were rough and smelled of musk, but they were warm. Above her, heavy wooden beams crossed the ceiling. It was not a palace. It was a cabin. Rough-hewn logs made up the walls. A fire crackled in a stone hearth across the room.

"You are awake."

The voice came from the shadows in the corner. It was deep and scratched like old vinyl.

Sienna sat up quickly. The room spun. She clutched the furs to her chest.

The man from the forest sat in a wooden chair near the fire. He was dressed now. He wore black cargo pants and a gray thermal shirt that stretched tight across his chest. He was sharpening a long hunting knife.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

The sound set Sienna’s teeth on edge.

He stopped. He looked up. His blue eyes pierced through the gloom.

"Drink," he said. He nodded toward a tin cup on the floor near the bed.

Sienna hesitated. "What is it?"

"Poison," he said. His face was deadpan. "I saved you from a rogue just to kill you in my bed. Drink the water, faint-blood."

Sienna flinched at the name. She reached for the cup with trembling hands. She sniffed it. It was just water. She drank it greedily. The cool liquid soothed her parched throat.

"Where am I?" she asked. Her voice was raspy.

"The Dead Lands," he said. He went back to his knife. "Camp Rogue. The armpit of the werewolf world. Welcome home."

Sienna looked around. "You are Dante."

He paused. A dark amusement flickered in his eyes. "So they still tell stories about me in the Obsidian Ridge? What do they say? That I eat children? That I worship demons?"

"They say you are mad," Sienna whispered. "They say you killed your own packmates."

Dante laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound. "I only killed the ones who tried to kill me first. History is written by the winners, sweetheart. And my brother is very good at writing history."

He stood up.

He was massive. In the small cabin, he took up too much space. He walked toward her. Sienna scooted back until her spine hit the log wall.

He stopped at the edge of the bed. He looked down at her. He looked at the ruined silver dress. He looked at the dirt on her face.

"Why did you save me?" Sienna asked.

Dante leaned down. He braced his hands on the mattress, caging her in. He smelled of smoke and blood.

"I didn't save you," he said softly. "I stole you."

Sienna’s breath hitched. "What?"

"Julian threw you away," Dante said. "He left a perfectly good weapon lying in the snow. I just picked it up."

"I am not a weapon," Sienna argued. "I am a faint-blood. I am nothing."

Dante reached out. He grabbed a lock of her hair. He twisted it around his scarred finger.

"You are Julian’s mate," he said. "Rejection doesn't break the bond completely. It just scars it over. You are still connected to him. You are his weakness."

He let go of her hair. He straightened up.

"And I am going to use you to break him."

Sienna felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold outside. He wasn't a hero. He was just another Alpha playing a game.

"I won't help you," she said. She tried to sound brave. "I won't hurt him. Even if he rejected me."

Dante sneered. "Loyalty. How cute. Let's see how long that lasts when you are hungry."

He turned and walked to a chest at the foot of the bed. He kicked it open. He pulled out a bundle of clothes and threw them at her. They hit her in the face.

"Put these on," he ordered. "That dress is an insult to my eyes."

Sienna pulled the bundle down. It was a pair of thick wool pants and a flannel shirt.

"What happens now?" she asked.

Dante walked to the door. He put his hand on the latch. He looked back at her over his shoulder.

"Now? You earn your keep. We don't have servants here. If you don't work, you don't eat. And if you try to run..."

His eyes flashed. The blue turned to a glowing, electric indigo. His wolf was close to the surface.

"I will hunt you down," he promised. "And next time, I won't be so gentle."

He opened the door. A blast of freezing wind rushed into the warm cabin.

"Get dressed," he commanded. "Training starts in ten minutes."

He slammed the door shut.

Sienna sat alone in the silence. She looked at the heavy clothes in her hands. She looked at the fire.

She had traded a golden cage for a wooden one. She had traded a prince for a monster.

But as she pulled the flannel shirt over her head, she realized one thing.

The monster had looked her in the eye. He hadn't looked through her. He hadn't ignored her.

He had seen her.

Sienna stood up. Her legs were shaky, but they held. She dressed quickly. She pulled her hair back.

She walked to the door. She put her hand on the cold iron latch.

"Fine," she whispered. "You want a weapon, Dante? I'll show you a weapon."

She pushed the door open and stepped out into the snow.