LYLA GRAY
"Master Wrath has called for you. Come, we must not keep him waiting. He's not a very patient man." The woman said coldly, before turning, expecting me to follow.
She appeared to be in her mid-fifties, dressed in a well-ironed maid's uniform.
Quietly and reluctantly, I walked behind her.
My fate had taken a drastic turn overnight. Just yesterday, I was home, eating a meager meal of watery oats with my parents. And now, I was here in a mansion so large its curtains alone could feed my family for weeks.
But I wasn't here as a worker. I wasn't here as a guest. I was here as a bride-to-be to the patriarch of this household.
It had started with a knock on the door yesterday morning.
Two men had arrived. Two large men.
I had spied them from outside, where I was hanging the laundry while they spoke to my parents, and although I couldn't hear their words, I knew they did not come bearing good news. No one looking like that did.
Finally, when I stepped in, laundry basket in hand, their flinty eyes had fallen on me, and I'd stilled.
Seeing them up close was even more terrifying. They loomed over me and my parents, despite my dad standing a solid six feet tall. From their size and presence alone, I knew they weren't ordinary men, but something beyond even the usual werewolves.
They were Lycans.
These ones didn't just turn into wolves, they were something stronger, something superior.
They didn't feel compelled to shift under the full moon, they were their own masters.
We humans knew of their kind. There was a treaty in place, keeping the peace... keeping us safe, so we had no fear that they would act irrationally.
But that didn't explain why they had come to my home.
At the end of the meeting, one word said it all.
Marriage.
But for the sole sake of mating with their Alpha.
My parents hadn't said no. I hadn't had a choice.
"You'll live a better life there. You are to marry a very powerful man. Rich and strong too."
My mother had said. She cupped my cheek. "All you have to do is bear his babies. You'll be fine."
"I always knew you were our ticket out of this misery." My father added. "I always knew God blessed you with looks like this for this very purpose."
His tired eyes crinkled when he smiled. "We need this money, Lyla. We might never get this opportunity again."
I was their only child. And yet, they had given me away so easily. So... eagerly.
About an hour ago, one of the men from yesterday had come for me. He was red-haired, with ocean blue eyes, his huge body hidden underneath extra-large clothing.
He said nothing during the drive to the estate and handed me over to the woman now leading me through its eerie halls.
"Walk faster and stop trailing behind," she snapped.
I quickened my pace.
We reached a door, and she turned to assess me. Disapproval and disgust were obvious in her small, evil-looking eyes, and for a moment, I was pleased.
I did not want to make these people happy.
My gray wool dress was old and faded. It hung loosely on my frame, and my hair... my gloriously beautiful golden hair was packed up in an awful ponytail and wrapped into a messy bun.
I had done it deliberately. I'd chosen to look as haggard and unappealing as possible.
I would not bother dressing well for a place I didn't want to be.
A place I'd been sold to.
Maybe, just maybe, they'd change their minds, realize what a terrible mistake they'd made, and send me home.
"I would've made you take a bath and change out of that filth before bringing you to the master," The woman said with revulsion, and I stiffened at the insult.
"But his orders were to bring you straight to him the minute you set foot in this mansion."
Her gaze wandered to my dress for a moment longer before she exhaled, shook her head, and gestured to the door.
"Go in."
I hesitated.
Behind that door was my intended.
Behind that door was Zephyrus Wrath.
A man rumored to be as menacing as his last name.
An Alpha.
I knew little about him, except that he was feared by many and had no desire for a mate, yet was eventually cajoled by his pack to take one for his legacy.
My anxious heart pounded, but I would not let my fear be known.
Lifting my chin and swallowing hard, I stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind me.
The room was vast and lavish, making my jaw drop in awe. My eyes ran over the extravagant décor before landing on the man who was to be my husband, just as he stepped out of the shower.
The men I'd seen yesterday were large, yes, but Zephyr was something else entirely. He stood only a few inches taller than the others, yet his presence was far more imposing.
Ebony-black hair, still wet and messily plastered back from his shower, clung to his forehead, and green eyes that seemed to burn into my skin raked over me.
A towel was all that protected his modesty, revealing just enough of his sculpted V-line to make my mouth almost drop open... not just at the blatant lack of modesty, but at the fact that I was about to marry this man.
This half-naked, towering, six-foot-four or maybe five, ruggedly built, devastatingly handsome Greek god.
Forcing myself to break free from the trance, I dragged my gaze from his body up to his face.
He studied me in silence with an unreadable expression as he approached. Slowly, he began to circle me, arms crossed, until he came to a stop behind me.
My heart thudded even faster, my body more rigid than Bernini's Saint Sebastian.
Without saying a word, I felt him reach up and gently tug at the band holding my hair in place, causing it to tumble down my back.
Zephyr moved again, stepping around until he stood before me once more. I saw his eyes flare for a brief moment before he tossed the band across the room and turned away, sauntering deeper into the chamber, leaving me frozen to the spot.
Shutting my eyes, I let out a long, silent breath of relief, only then realizing I had been holding it in the entire time he was near me.
"Do you know why you're here, Lyla?" Zephyr finally spoke, throwing open his wardrobe. His voice was deep. Rough, matching his appearance.
"Yes," I replied quietly, watching him pull out a robe, wondering if he was going to get dressed in front of me.
"Why are you here?" he asked casually, slipping on the robe.
I silently prayed he wouldn't turn around until he was fully covered. I wasn't mentally or physically prepared to see him naked.
I wasn't sure how my body would react, though a part of me already knew it would be worse than what I was experiencing now. As strange and embarrassing as it was, I was mildly aroused.
Zephyr was undeniably, unfairly attractive.
"I am to be your mate," I muttered in response.
"No," he corrected, turning to face me now fully covered in the robe. "You are to be my wife."
I'd heard Zephyr was supposed to wed werewolf or Lycan royalty, someone born with the gene at least... someone worthy of an Alpha. But he had said no, stating that the only way he would marry was if he personally granted the bite to his chosen partner.
And he had chosen me.
Which meant I would be bitten soon, turned into a beast like them.
I would be made into something inhuman... a cursed creature. Although strong and powerful, but animalistic. Hideous. Permanent.
Bile rose in my throat at the thought, but I pushed it back.
"Wife," he had said. What a joke.
"You should not wear rags." Zephyr's voice cut through my thoughts. His brows were furrowed as he stared at my worn-out dress.
I felt insulted. What was it with these people and my dress?
Yes, it was old, but it was still my dress, and the idea of him addressing it as rags, just as the woman before had addressed it as filth, didn't sit well with me.
My lip tightened into a hard line, and I bit back my tongue from retorting brusquely at him.
"Speak your mind," he said, as if reading my thoughts.
Without hesitation, I snapped. "My clothes are not rags."
After a long moment, he replied, catching me off guard. "My apologies."
My face blanched in surprise.
"I'm certain by now your maid, Celine, has prepared your room and everything you need," Zephyr continued. "When you leave this room, she'll be waiting for you."
"Celine," I muttered despondently, staring down at my feet. Surely, that had to be the cold woman who showed me to his room.
I couldn't believe she was my maid. She hated me. And the feeling was mutual.
"Not Maria," Zephyr added with a slight scoff, again as if reading my thoughts. "Maria is the head of staff."
"Oh. Thank you," I said in a small, icy tone, glancing away. My eyes landed on a large portrait hanging on the wall. Zephyr stood with the two men from yesterday. That was how I knew they were brothers. Formidable brothers.
Zephyr sat on a couch while the others stood behind him, exuding the same power he did.
"You shouldn't thank me if your gratitude isn't genuine," he said.
My gaze flicked back to him. I wanted to ask how he knew, but then I remembered the man before me was no ordinary man.
He was a beast.
A beast with a keen sense of smell that could likely scent my hate, my anger, and my discomfort.