Married To My Betrothed

Ophelia

“Oh, I forgot to mention, Ophelia.” Damian starts slow. “But I am the Alpha’s son, Regent Alpha of the Cryptic Pack.”

Shell-shocked, I stare at him. My thoughts running fast and sweat covering my forehead uncomfortably. 

Trying to process what I just heard has me in shackles. It can’t be! 

Alpha’s son. Cryptic Pack. No, it can’t be!

Damian steps out of the car and leaves me alone in my misery. Confusion takes me off guard followed by resentment and anger.

I just got married to my betrothed! The same one I ran away from!

What type of sick joke is Fate playing on me? Oh, God, no. This can’t be happening. No wonder he looked powerful and rich, he’s the son of the freaking Alpha!

“Coming?” He leans down and places his hand in the air, wanting to help me out of the car.

Exasperatedly, I open the door next to me and storm out of the car. Rounding him at the other side, I’m tempted to yell out in frustration but self-control holds me back.

“W-What did you just say?” My question comes out as a seethe. I’m seconds away from strangling something.

His dark eyebrows furrow and I can tell he’s trying to decipher why I’m this pissed. If only he knew he just got married to the same bride who ran away from him.

“Are you alright? Why are you looking…red?”

“Just answer my damn question!” I hiss, and I hear low growls coming from somewhere.

By the entrance of the enormous Castle, the guards are staring ahead, their eyes far away from us. But their ears can pick up even the faintest of sounds as werewolves.

Their displeasure from the way I spoke to their Regent Alpha fills the air, almost choking me. They just need one order from Damian and I’ll be ripped to pieces.

“That’s enough!” Damian barks at them and they remain quiet. “You will have to mind the way you speak to me here, Ophelia. Respect for the Alpha is unquestionable here.”

“But you’re not yet the Alpha, are you?” 

Damian’s facial expression changes with my remark and for a split second, I see something in his eyes. 

Feral, livid and totally uncontrollable. He’s the deranged werewolf, the same one who killed his mother in a fit of madness. What’s to say he won’t do worse to me, a total stranger?

Perhaps, Damian sees terror in my eyes but for some reason, he takes a deep breath and backs away. After cooling down, his eyes return to mine softly.

“I’ve had a rough day, Ophelia. And so have you. Let’s get your wounds checked with Henrick.” With that, he walks towards the Castle as the guard pulls the doors open.

Before entering, he looks back at me and I force my feet off the ground to follow behind him in the cobblestone courtyard. 

Everything is against me here. This is his pack, his Castle and he has full authority to do whatever he likes with me. 

I can’t appear defiant in front of him. Being submissive and meek will be hard but I’ll have to put on that mask until I find a way out here. I have to find a way out of here.

Thankfully, I still have a little of the camouflage potion stashed in my underwear. With that, I can easily run away from here in Jade’s form, especially now that I can get a change of clothes.

Soaking in my surroundings, I bask in the glory of the Castle–dim with age but refined with grace. The entrance hall is almost cavernous with the vaulted ceiling so high it disappears from my sight.

Maids line up in the corridor and greet Damian with a low bow. He acknowledges them with a subtle nod–barely even meeting eyes with them.

Here, he seems to tower over everything and everyone, an unspoken declaration of the power he yields. Even though our marriage is nothing but a contract on paper, pride somehow trickles down my chest knowing that I will be assumed the same level of respect as his wife.

The regal building stretches beyond us as our steps echo against the polished floors. The grand chandeliers lit the entire place up, glimmering with a commanding force.

Damian leads me towards an aisle which seems to be quieter than the others. Stopping behind a heavy oak door carved with incomprehensible symbols, he pushes it open and steps inside.

Tentatively, I move in as well. The room is lined with shelves of jars, medications and surgical instruments by a table on the side.

A silver-haired man dressed in a long black robe looks up from the book he’s reading. Standing up from the reclined sofa, he plants a smile on his thin lips.

“Your Majesty, you’ve come with a guest.” His dark eyes move to mine and I look away, fidgeting from the uncomfortable feeling I get from him. “An injured one.”

This wolf’s energy…it’s so conflicting. I sense something eerie from him but then, his energy is pure–almost like that of a newborn’s.

Hiding my innate ability to detect energy from living things, I keep my head down, remaining silent. I’ve already memorized the path we came from so I can find my way out of here.

But I may need something else. Sleeping pills, intoxicants, or any other lubricants to my advantage.

The royal physician’s room is the best place for that.

“Yes, Henrick. I’ll need you to look at her wounds. She’s healing, but slowly.” Damian’s hand rests at my small back as he pulls me forward gently.

Henrick’s eyes fall on mine before he looks back at Damian. I sense suspicion coming from him and it’s not unpredicted.

“Pardon me if I’m overstepping my boundaries, Your Majesty but you set out today to bring home your chosen mate.” Henrick regards me from head to toe. “Is this the one?”

“No.” Something like irritation is laced in Damian’s tone. “News reached me that my said betrothed ran away so I decided to get married to another.” 

If only you knew you got married to the very same stepdaughter of Alpha Duncan.

His hands cover my shoulders and it takes great strength from me to remain mute. “Meet my wife and chosen mate, Ophelia. Ophelia, this is Henrick, our most loyal physician. He’ll help you with your wounds.”

“Have a seat, Your Majesty. The wounds are already healing so it will take less than a minute to treat you.” 

With a frown, I finally look up at the old doctor. “Y-Your Majesty?” The title, which I’ve heard so many times in my life, seems unfitting for me.

Henrick’s eyes soften. “Yes, as the chosen mate of the Regent Alpha, you’re to be addressed as such. Now, please have a seat here.” 

Slowly, I move towards the cushioned chair and Henrick begins the procedure of applying a soothing balm to my wounds. Gradually, my injuries begin to close up and my skin returns to its ample condition.

My ears twitch when I pick up hurried footsteps–heels clicking against the floor. The door opens and a thick perfume floods my nose, hitting me with a wave of dizziness.

“Damian!” A young she-wolf calls. 

She’s breathtaking, anyone with working eyes can affirm that. Her fiery red hair falls down her shoulders in bouncy waves. The tight green dress reveals every curve on her body and her long legs are accentuated by the five inch stilettos.

Her eyes simmer with rage as she turns to me. She doesn’t hide her contempt for me and I can’t decipher the reason for her hostility.

“What is it, Sabrina?” Damian barely acknowledges her presence, his eyes fixated on me as I pull down the sleeves of my dress

“You bitch!” Sabrina snarls, her fangs in full display as she lunges for me.

Shocked by the suddenness of the attack, I’m rooted to my position as one thought grips me hard–What sort of mess have I landed in again?