Chapter 4 THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

The Vance penthouse was a monument to millionaire extravagance, and despotic control.

The area was on the top level of the city’s most exclusive building, with floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlooking a wide, gleaming concrete jungle. The inside was a continuous flow of dark marble, polished obsidian and soft minimalist furnishings. In the centre of the main living area a large double-sided fireplace burned, throwing long dancing shadows across the room.

Dominic pulled Clara to her feet by the glass wall. She shivered from the warmth of his embrace to the frigid air of the apartment, her emerald-green silk gown sliding on her skin.

She stopped, staring down on the city below. She got up. She was small. She was inconsequential in the face of his immense power.

“Drink this,” Dominic’s strong voice demanded behind her.

She turned to see him, a few steps away, having taken off his suit jacket and unfastened his silk tie. His white dress shirt was immaculate and open at the collar, the strong, tanned stretch of his throat exposed, the faint shape of broad collarbones. He raised a crystal tumbler full of an amber liquid. "I don't drink on the job, Mr. Vance." Clara muttered, voice tense as she sought to retain her professional human escort character.

"He chuckled darkly and cynically. In an instant he had closed the space between them. His heavy shoes did not make a sound against the marble floor. He didn't offer her any place to retreat to, pushing her back against the cool glass wall by the sheer force of his big bulk. He put the glass down on a ledge beside him and stretched out, his big warm hand holding her chin so that she looked up into his piercing gray eyes.

“Clara,” he whispered, the thumb caressing her bottom lip with a slow, deliberate pressure that shot a shock of fire right to her core. “We are past the point of games.

Clara gasped, her breath catching. He knows my true name. "How did you . . .

"Dominic interrupted, " I am the Alpha King of this land" his voice was a smooth lethal silk. "You thought you could hide your identity from me? I knew your name, your medical bills and your brother Toby's health before we even left the club."

Toby’s name was said and Clara’s eyes widened with a mixture of dread and desperation. She fought to twist free from his grip, but his free hand landed on her hip, a dead weight that held her against the glass. The heat of his palm burned through the thin silk of her clothing, burning her skin.

"Please," she murmured, her inner wolf purring madly at the near contact, a full betrayal of her trepidation. “If you know about my brother you know why I need to leave. I’ve got to get back to the club. I need the money to keep him alive.

“I told you before, you’re never setting foot in that den of filth again,” Dominic hissed, his nostrils twitching as he smelt the scent of her neck. The silver-laced chemical was wearing off, and a faint, enticing sense of her natural alluring perfume was starting to flow through, like wild jasmine and fresh dirt. It drove the beast within him insane with a primordial, barbaric hunger.

He lowered himself, his lips over the sensitive skin under her jaw. Clara moaned softly, involuntarily, her head falling back against the glass, giving him easier access. His domineering, demanding personality combined with the searing, throbbing pleasure of his touch was driving her crazy. The fated mate link was a physical gravity, drawing her body to his with an unstoppable power.

Dominic’s grasp on her hip intensified, pressing her lower belly close against his hard, hefty length. As he moved his weight, squeezing his muscular thigh between her legs, Clara felt a delightful, urgent moisture pool between her thighs, producing a terrible, fantastic friction through the layers of fabric.

“Money, huh?” His strained, heated breath murmured against her skin. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a big, leather-bound document, and threw it down on the marble table near them. There is the salvation of your brother.

Clara slowly opened her heavy eyelids. Her chest rose and fell as she looked at the document. On the front there was gorgeous gold lettering: Exclusive Cohabitation and Protection Agreement.

“What is this?” she gasped, her voice shaking.

“An exclusivity contract,” Dominic said, his gray eyes sparkling with an intense, possessive, golden spark of danger. “You are going to leave The Velvet Den. You will come to my estate, under my personal guard. And in return, I will pay for all your brother’s medical expenses, get him transferred to the best private supernatural hospital in the country, and keep him safe for the rest of his life.”

Clara’s heart was hammering in her ribcage. It was an absurd amount of money, one she couldn't possibly earn in ten lifetimes working at the club. That meant Toby would survive. It meant he was protected from the Silver Pack.

But it also meant selling her freedom to a dictator.

And what do you want with me?" Clara said, her voice a whisper of defiance as she met his dark stare.

Dominic's eyes went entirely black, the overwhelming Alpha energy in the room increasing until the air was thick enough to taste. He dropped his head, his lips a millimeter from hers, his thumb following the sharp curve of her collarbone where the silver had scorched her skin.

"Everything," Dominic murmured possessively, his big hand moving down to grasp the hem of her emerald gown, stroking it gently up the smooth expanse of her thigh. Your body, your obedience, your total submission. From this night forward you are mine.”

Clara stared into his furious, unblinking eyes. The enormity of the decision weighed upon her. Before she could say anything, a powerful rush of fire smashed through her core, her inner wolf roaring to the surface as her eyes blazed a bright, lethal amber.