The sunlight flickered across Elias's face, his dark eyes glinting with that infuriating cocky smile as he lounged beside me on the bed, the pewter goblet still cool in my hands. "Looking for your maid, wife?" he said, his voice low and teasing, the word "wife" a spark that ignited the familiar heat of our bickering. "After clinging to me all night"
The mahogany scent of his pheromones lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the solace he'd offered last night, when my screams and pleas had laid bare my shame.
My throat, no longer parched, tightened with annoyance, but I kept my expression composed, my fingers gripping the cup as I sat up straighter against the carved headboard.
"You must be mistaken," I said, my voice cool despite the flush creeping up my neck. "I don't recall clinging to anyone, least of all you."
The lie felt brittle, the memory of my fingers clawing at his tunic, my sobs of "Father, forgive me!" burning in my mind. I loathe him. I loathe his arrogance, his commanding presence that filled this packhouse like a storm but his words were true, and that truth stung deeper than I cared to admit.
Elias's smile widened, a predatory edge to it as he leaned closer, his broad frame casting a shadow over the furs. "Oh, come now, Seraphina," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You held me so tightly I thought you'd never let go. All that begging 'Father, don't lock me up!' Quite the spectacle for the Verdant daughter." His eyes searched mine, daring me to deny it.
My cheeks burned, but I forced my gaze to hold his, my voice steady. "I didn't do anything like that," I said, the words sharp but hollow, a desperate shield against the humiliation of last night.
The image of the little wolf pup, her bright eyes triggering Father's cruel lessons, flashed through my mind, but I pushed it down, refusing to let Elias see the crack in my armor. "Perhaps you're the one imagining things, Alpha. Or do you enjoy fabricating tales to amuse yourself?"
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that grated against my nerves, but his eyes held a glint of something softer curiosity, perhaps, or something I couldn't name.
"Fabricating?" he said, rising from the bed, his movements fluid despite his size. "Your tears left stains on my tunic, wife. Deny it all you like, but I know what I saw." He paused, his hand resting on the bedpost, his gaze lingering a moment too long. "Rest well, Seraphina. You'll need your strength for breakfast."
With that, he turned and strode to the door, his boots echoing on the polished wood floor, leaving the air heavy with his absence.
The door clicked shut, and I exhaled, my fingers unclenching from the cup. Before I could gather my thoughts, the door creaked open again, and Lara slipped inside, her woolen apron slightly askew, her half-werewolf warmth a familiar balm.
Her wide eyes met mine, but her expression was neutral, as if the chaos of my screams last night had never happened. "My lady," she said brightly, bustling toward the wardrobe, "time to dress for breakfast. A fine gown will show the pack you're not shaken."
I forced a smile, matching her pretense, though my stomach twisted at the thought of the dining hall. The scraps and slop fit for dogs or horses awaited me, a cruel reminder of her vendetta to drive me from the Bloodmoon Pack.
I'd survived on Morgan's smuggled foods, passed through Lara's hands, but the memory of those rancid trays made my appetite vanish. "I'd rather stay here," I said, my voice soft but firm, rising from the bed. "You know what they serve me, Lara. It's not food, it's an insult."
Lara paused, her hands on a velvet gown of deep emerald, its embroidery a nod to the Verdant Sect's colors. "You can't hide, my lady," she said, her tone gentle but insistent. "If you miss breakfast, the pack will say that they've broken you. They'll say the Verdant daughter's too weak to face them."
Her words echoed the challenge in Elias's eyes, a reminder of the pack's hatred, rooted in my sect's blood soaked crusade to "purify" shifters. I was an outsider here, a wife in name only, bound to Elias by a contract that felt like a noose.
I sighed, my resolve hardening despite the dread pooling in my chest. Lara was right, hiding would only embolden Cynthia and the pack, letting their scorn fester. I had to face them, to maintain my facade as Elias's wife while gathering the intel Father demanded. "Very well," I said, my calm returning like armor. "Dress me, Lara."
She chose the emerald gown, its tight bodice and flowing skirts a defiant statement in this hostile packhouse. As she laced the stays, her fingers deft and gentle, I steeled myself for the dining hall.
The maids cold stares, the rancid food, the weight of my mission all loomed ahead, but I would not falter. Not again.
The corridors of the packhouse were a maze of stone, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and faint wolf musk.
Lara walked beside me, her steps light, her presence a shield against the whispers that followed us.
Maids lingered in the corridors, their eyes glinting with disdain for the Verdant daughter who'd invaded their home. I kept my chin high, my expression serene, though my heart pounded with the memory of last night's weakness and Elias's teasing words.
The dining hall's arched doors loomed ahead, carved with wolves in mid hunt, a testament to the Bloodmoon Pack's pride.
I braced myself for the familiar sight of an empty table, the food or rather slop waiting to mock me. But as I stepped inside, my breath caught in my throat. Elias sat at the head of the long oak table, his broad frame relaxed, a silver goblet of wine in one hand. His dark eyes flicked to me, a slow, cocky smile spreading across his lips, as if he'd orchestrated this moment to unsettle me.
"Took you long enough," he said, his voice carrying across the hall, laced with that infuriating amusement that always sparked our clashes. The words hung in the air, a challenge wrapped in jest, and I stared at him, shock rooting me to the spot. Lara froze beside me, her soft gasp echoing my disbelief. Elias, the Alpha who'd never deigned to dine with me, was here, his presence a puzzle that turned my composed facade to ash.