Mag-log inOPHELIA
“Including marrying me for the next three months?’
The relief I had from having met a saviour drops instantly at his proposal. Become his wife? But I don’t even know him!
Staring back at me, his blue eyes search mine but he’s determined. It’s clear he’s not joking with the proposal but why would he even want a stranger to be his wife?
He seems perfectly normal and extremely handsome to be short of ladies. His stormy blue eyes carry a depth to them and his black hair falls in contrast to his smooth skin.
His tall and muscled build poses a powerful demeanor with the tailored suit he is wearing. Judging from the luxurious car he came out from and the fact that he has a driver, he is definitely a rich werewolf in this Pack.
He looks like he has what it takes to protect me from Terry or any other danger. And frankly, I can use the help especially as I hadn’t had a roof over my head for the past few days.
But agreeing to be his wife? I ran away from home because my stepfather wanted to marry me off to a stranger. And now, I have to marry another stranger?
“Come to me, Ophelia.” Terry growls from behind me and I shudder from the threat in his voice.
“Well, if you’re not interested, I can just leave–” He turns away and I grab his arm immediately.
“Wait!” I pull my hand away when his blue eyes meet mine. A sizzling sensation passes through my hands and I look down, taking one last second to contemplate my decision.
“I will be your wife.” I mutter. “Now, please save me.”
A smirk curls onto the side of his lips and he takes a step forward. Softly, his hand pulls my chin upward and tingles fill my skin from his touch.
“Your wish is my command, wife.” His deep voice rumbles and I gulp, knots tightening in my stomach.
Why am I acting this way around him?
“Gentlewolves.” He pulls me behind him, his broad shoulders acting as a barrier between Terry and me. “We don’t have to do this the hard way. She’s with me now so you can scurry off to wherever you came from.”
“Stay out of this if you don’t want your pretty face to get messed up, pup.”
I peek from behind him to see Terry snarling, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Behind him, his gang of wolves growl at us.
“Hand us the girl and we’ll make sure you get out of here scot-free.” Terry hisses and terror overwhelms me at the tense situation.
If a fight ensues, it will be one against five. Was I stupid to think that he would be able to save me?
Slowly, the handsome werewolf takes off his suit jacket and hands it to the old driver. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He grunts.
One of the wolves lunges first and my heart falls to my stomach. The rich wolf moves with startling speed and his hand catches the wolf by its scruff mid-air.
In the blink of an eye, he slams it onto the asphalt with a bone-chilling crack ripping across the air.
Undauntedly, another one rushes from behind, his sharp claws aiming for the handsome stranger. He twists, ramming his elbow back into the wolf’s snout-like visage and it yelps in pain.
Another punch to the jaw and the wolf falls unconscious, its face dislocated brutally. The third and fourth avenges, their fangs baring with fury.
In less than two minutes, he fights off the four wolves. Terry stands dumbly, his eyes trembling with fear. My mouth is wide open with shock.
I’ve never seen such precise moves in my life. He has to be a trained fighter. How else could he have taken down four wolves in his human form? And that too, in a tailored suit!
“Come for her and you’ll end up in a much worse state than them.” His voice is laced with a dark promise.
Terry glares at me with disdain but he steps back, defeated and helpless. Then, he runs away like a scared puppy.
Turning towards me, the werewolf dusts off his suit and his eyes meet mine. Somehow, his eyes soften as he takes in my appearance.
“My name is Damian. I think we should at least know each other’s name before we sign a marriage contract.”
“Ophelia.” My voice comes out small.
Damian gives me a small smile. “Come, Ophelia. Let’s get you cleaned up so we can get married.”
*****
From a very young age, my mother always told me not to trust strangers. Especially those that appear to be kind and…too good to be true.
If my mother was here to witness my getting married to a complete stranger, she would have fainted from shock and disbelief.
Damian takes me to a motel closeby and checks me in. He tells me to take a much needed shower while he goes out to get me some clothes.
After telling him the right sizes, I get to work. I never knew how just spending some days away from home can be this humbling.
My entire body is filled with dirt from sleeping on the ground and my hair stinks like a skunk’s fart. I spend close to an hour in the bathroom and when I come out, a white casual dress, pair of underwear and footwear is waiting for me on the bed.
After that, we head to the court for the marriage to be sealed and stamped.
“There. Officially married under the laws of the Cryptid Pack.” The court officiator says with a wide toothy smile.
Yeah, walk away. That’s all you can do best. Her words eat deep at me echoing in my head like someone tapping a metal spoon against the edge of glass. I grit my teeth, feeling the rising heat in my guts for her audacious statement. For a moment, only silence rocks the breakfast table. The only persistent sounds being the clink of silverware as the wolves pretentiously devour their meals, as if totally ignorant of the brawl between Ophelia and I. My jaw clenches. My muscles spasms. Every inch of me cries and begs for me to react, body swelling with righteous anger– aching to be let out. To let loose on her. On Ophelia and her loose tongue, and for always trying to get on my nerves. A part of me roars with the approval to go all out. I am Regent Alpha and if I cannot put my wife in place, then how can I demand respect from anyone? If it cannot even start from my house? I grind my teeth in dissatisfaction, my chest welling with rage. I feel my wolf– feral and savage, growing to be
OPHELIADamian didn’t return to the room last night. Not that I care. I say as I grip the butter knife in my hand a little too hard. Last night turned out to be much worse than I was expecting it to be. And honestly, I blame myself for acting irrationally. I was already in a bad mood because of Sabrina and the fact that he didn’t return as he promised just made it worse.I might have given him an attitude but did he make things any better? No!Instead, he storms out of the room as though I’m not even worth a second of his time. I just find it funny that he’s the one who keeps trying to put up an image that we’re a loving couple yet, he hasn’t slept in the room for two nights in a row.I didn’t feel his energy even in the adjoined room which meant that after my outburst, he left without turning back. Classic Damian.His flip-flap character is so hard to get used to. I don’t know how to behave around him when I never know what mood he wears at a particular time in a day.It’s almost
DAMIANI slam the door faster and harder than I want to. Not wanting extra gossip on me, I am a bit worried that someone may have heard that. Yet I find comfort in the fact that it is better–far better than standing there and taking the nonsense she throws at me. My eyes narrow, expression hardens as I clench my jaws. I thought we had something special going on? Why this suddenly? It is almost as if we are back to being strangers. Considering my heritage, saying and keeping my words are very important to my person–and my office. And while I know that I performed subpar to the expectations, there is an explanation for this. Should I have thrown Sir Wicker out instead of receiving him properly just because she was waiting for me? Sir Wicker is like a father to me, and his presence in the castle means a lot. Both to the people and my father. I made the best of decisions to spend time with her because we are married together– she could wait. Sir Wicker could not–he is always moving
OPHELIAHe’s not yet back!Turning over to my side for the umpteenth time, I let out a loud sigh in a bid to express my frustration. It is starting to get to me, way more than I did bargain for. I should not feel this way, I know. But it is hard. I am left here, with thoughts of how close we have become, since today–since the time on the hill. His smile, his forced hardness but not in a lustful way.It is the way he presents himself. Head held up high, shoulders straight and muscles taut. Like he constantly has something to prove about being the beacon of perfection. He is Regent Alpha, after all. I am not an Alpha so maybe I do not understand. Maybe this fronting is necessary on his part, considering he is yet to be the official Alpha. However, what I do understand is seeing all those clandestine layers unfold when we were together. He let himself go, completely being free with me. And for the first time, in a long time–perhaps since forever–he was not the ego driven man I am c
DAMIANShe was there. My heart pounds faster at the realization of this. As Sir Wicker says, I should not have come back from it. But here I am. Now, it burns me in the face about how silly I have been. About the excuse I have been making for her–Opelia. Willingly turning a blind eye to what she represents in hopes that some day, she would come clean to me. But twice does the trick. “Ah!’ I sigh out, massaging my temples with one hand–So I was not wrong to have come at it like that? Vindication floods my heart at this. Yet at the same time, I feel a flutter in it, as I make yet another excuse for her, again–She’s only waiting for the right moment to tell you, Damian.I ground my teeth at this, distracted by the blind elder’s gentle whisper. “You say?” I ask. “Ophelia…” Sir Wicker repeats, as if he's tasting the words, rolling it on his tongue as much as he could. “And who is this Ophelia?” I swallow, suddenly feel self-conscious at the mention of her name. “She’s my bride. I
His blind eyes stare right back at mine– unblinking. Enough to convince me of his words as the truth right away. But that could not be– I struggle mentally, trying to dismiss his words. Yet the more I try, the more uneasy his unblinking eyes make me. “W-what did you say?” I ask with squeezed eyebrows, hoping against all hope I heard him wrong. That has to be the case, right? There is no way he would say that, just like that. But what comes out of his words shatters this deceptive comfort almost immediately. “You heard me, Damian.. “Then the iciness in his expression softens, replaced by something light– almost teasing. With a shrug and an upward curve of his lips, he pats my shoulder. “And perhaps we should discuss this someplace quieter.” Sir Wicker leans in now, shifting his gaze left and right,as if searching for something. “The walls have ears, they say.” Filled with burning curiosity and anxiety, I want to argue that it would be the same case even in an enclosed space if







