He Hated Me First

The pack's ceremonial grounds buzzed with an energy that made my skin crawl. Wolves gathered in clusters, their voices a low hum of anticipation mixed with something darker,bloodlust, perhaps, or the collective satisfaction of watching the condemned meet their fate.I stood at the edge of the clearing, wrapped in the only clean dress I owned,a simple brown thing that had been my mother's. It was too big for my frame, hanging loose where it should have curved, but it was the closest thing to dignity I could manage."Well, well," a familiar voice purred behind me. "Look what crawled out of the servants' quarters."I turned to face Zara Nightingale, the pack's golden girl and Larry's former lover. Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid fire, and her emerald dress hugged curves that had never known hunger or hardship."Zara," I acknowledged with a slight nod, refusing to rise to her bait."I heard about your little performance today," she said, stepping closer with predat

Three days into my new life as Larry's mate, I learned that luxury could be its own form of torture.The silk sheets were softer than anything I'd ever touched, but they might as well have been made of thorns when I lay awake each night, hyper-aware of Larry's presence in the bed beside me. He kept to his side with rigid discipline, but through the mate bond, I could feel his wolf's desperate need to claim me completely.The beautiful clothes filled a closet larger than my old quarters, but each elegant dress felt like armor I wore into battle. Because every day brought new psychological warfare, new tests of will between two people who were meant to love each other but had been trained to hate."Eat," Larry commanded, not looking up from his breakfast as I entered the dining room.The table was set with fine china and crystal, laden with more food than I'd seen in months. My stomach cramped with hunger, but I'd learned to be cautious of his gifts. Nothing came without a price."What'

The metallic scent of Jackson's blood still hung in the air as Larry released me from his grip, his silver eyes scanning the assembled pack with lethal precision. My legs trembled beneath me, threatening to give way, but I forced myself to remain standing. I couldn't show weakness now, not when every wolf in the circle was watching, waiting to see if their new Luna would crumble."Does anyone else," Larry's voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade, "wish to question my judgment?"No one moved. No one spoke. Even Beta Marcus had dropped his gaze to the blood-stained earth, his earlier defiance extinguished like a candle in a hurricane.Elder Catherine stepped forward first, her ancient joints creaking as she lowered herself to one knee. "Alpha," her weathered voice carried across the circle, "we acknowledge your strength and your right to choose. The Moon Goddess has spoken through you tonight."One by one, the other Elders followed suit. Elder Thomas, who had lost two sons in

The door to my quarters clicked shut behind me with a finality that echoed through my bones. I leaned against the solid wood, letting out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the entire evening with it.He killed for you.The thought circled endlessly, a vulture picking at the carcass of my understanding. Jackson Reid massive, brutal Jackson, lay dead in the fighting circle because Larry wouldn't let anyone threaten what was his. Even if what was his happened to be the one person he'd dedicated eight years to destroying."Stop thinking about it," I whispered to the empty room. "It doesn't change anything."But it changed everything.I pushed away from the door and surveyed the space that was supposedly mine. Adjacent to Larry's bedroom, connected by a door he'd made abundantly clear stayed locked from his side. The room was beautiful, soft cream walls, plush carpeting that my feet sank into, a bed large enough to drown in. The attached bathroom gleamed with promise.A gilded ca

The night air clings to my skin like a second layer, thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. My room is bathed in the silver glow of moonlight, the beams slicing through the half-drawn curtains and painting stripes across my tangled sheets. I'd fallen asleep in nothing but a silk gown and a pair of lace panties, the fabric clinging to my sweat-dampened skin. The dream had been so vivid, so real; that my body still hums with the ghost of pleasure, my nipples tight beneath the fabric, my thighs slick with arousal I refuse to acknowledge.Then, the touch.A finger, calloused and warm, traces the curve of my waist, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every inch of me. It slides upward, brushing the underside of my breast before circling my nipple, teasing it into a stiff peak. A breath hitches in my throat, my back arching involuntarily, pressing myself into that touch. The finger moves lower, trailing down my stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of my panties. I whimper, my hips l