LOGINThe car ride was swift and silent. I caught glimpses of Jonathan beside me and wondered about the level of his allegiance to his father.
Soon, we were in a large, open field. A jet waited. I was led to it and seated on a chair, alone.
I stared out the window, watching the familiar landscape shrink beneath me. The thought of my home, the place of my childhood and forced upbringing, was a complicated mix of resentment and loss. But still, I didn’t want to be separated from it.
Waves of my earlier connection with Jonathan resurfaced, and I sighed. *Why can’t he just take me to himself?* I wondered.
Jenny Da’Bitch’s tutorials echoed in my mind: “…seduction is a weapon, a tool…”
I wondered if I could wield it. Not for the Alpha King. But for the Alpha Prince.
Minutes stretched into an eternity. The smooth landing announced our arrival on Furiosa Island.
The door hissed open, and Jonathan emerged.
“Come,” he commanded.
I walked toward him, my eyes fixed on his.
"Bow your head when you see him. Don't look at him. Greet him, and don't say more than you are asked," Jonathan ordered, taking my hand and dragging me toward the door.
"Or else?" I pressed, my gaze meeting his.
Our eyes locked in a silent stand-off. I took the time to stare at his pink lips. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss them.
"Or else you'll be sent to the pit," Jonathan responded, his voice low and menacing. He tugged me roughly down the jet steps. "As the Alpha Prince, I could touch you. No other man here, or out of here, can touch you. You belong to the Alpha King, my father, Alpha Maguire. Remember that."
I was silent for a while. So he *could* touch me. "So far, you can touch me," I stated, my voice surprisingly steady. "I think that's okay."
Jonathan’s expression tightened. "I don't mean…" he began, then corrected himself. "You belong to my father. I can touch you because I'm his son.”
The fact that Jonathan *could* touch me made me smile. I had never wanted a man so badly.
“For the Christmas and New Year, the island will be filled with relatives from near and far. You'll be presented as one of the Alpha King's wives. Many alphas will be around. You shall be lusted after; you are not allowed to speak to any or be touched by any,” Jonathan explained further.
“Looks like you want me to live?” I said with a smile.
“I don't want you to end up in the pit,” Jonathan replied.
"What is the pit?" I asked.
Jonathan’s gaze hardened. His expression revealed the cruel reality behind the words. "You don't want to find out," he said.
Stepping out of the jet, I gasped. The mansion was breathtaking – a sprawling structure of white stone and glass perched on stilts above the turquoise ocean.
A gentle, salty breeze kissed my face, carrying the scent of sea and exotic blooms. The view was heavenly – a panoramic expanse of cerulean water stretching to the horizon, dotted with tiny islands shrouded in mist.
Jonathan handed me over to a group of maids and then walked away in the opposite direction.
As he went, I turned to look at Jonathan. Everything about him made me want him. Even the way he walked.
They led me to a modern bathroom where a luxurious bath was already prepared. As they bathed and dressed me, the chief bather discreetly confirmed my virginity with a single, deft touch.
"Once you're taken to the King's room," the chief bather whispered, "try not to stress him. Spread one leg to the west and another to the east. You don't want to go to the pit."
I remained silent. I’d heard that before.
The gown they dressed me in was designed to accentuate my figure, the fabric clinging to my curves. My breasts were pushed high to reveal my cleavage, and my thighs were exposed.
My makeup was flawless, transforming me from a simple girl into an enticing bait. The transformation from simple girl to enticing bait was complete.
The maids led me to a grand hall where men in impeccably tailored suits stood in silent attendance.
Jonathan received me and took my hand. He was before me, looking down at my breasts. I looked into his eyes and wished that he would steal me away.
“I know you'll make a pretty bride,” he whispered.
I wondered if Jonathan’s admiration was enough for me. But if he did like me, there was nothing he could do. His father owned me, and he would do as he was commanded.
At the end of the hall sat Alpha King Maguire on a throne, an imposing figure who appeared to be in his sixties.
*This would be my husband?* I wondered. I lowered my eyes as instructed.
Suddenly, a sharp tone cut through the tense silence. Jonathan checked his phone, his face paling.
"Father," he said, his voice tight with urgency, "the HellPaw pack have completed the Dyad Ritual. Their wolves are cloned, their strength doubled. Their Alpha… doubled. I think they will attack soon."
A murmur rippled through the hall. I pressed my lips together, a knot of tension tightening in my stomach. Was this happening for my good? Maybe.
"Silence!" King Maguire’s voice boomed. He rose to his feet. And now, I realized what I was in for. Maguire could barely stand.
"The Furiosa don't fear or cower from war,” Maguire continued. “We fight them head-on. We take the fight to them. We go for them before they come for us. This is not a time to take a wife." His gaze swept across the hall, settling on me.
"Jon, keep her on the island. When I return, I shall redo and consummate the marriage. Now, we fight!"
Jonathan's grip tightened on my arm as he dragged me away, out of the hall.
As we hurried through the halls, I looked into Jonathan’s face. For a moment, I felt a flash of tenderness and a longing to reach out, to express the emotions building up within me.
“Please take me to yourself,” I said to Jonathan.
What do you think is about to happen? What do you want to see happen?
Morning crept in like a thief, slipping through the heavy curtains in thin, gray blades. I woke before the sun fully claimed the room, my body stiff against the cold silk sheets. The monstrous bed felt like a battlefield, and I was the lone survivor, heart pounding, breath shallow. The Alpha King’s arm was still draped over me, heavy as a chain. His snores rumbled low, a beast in slumber. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My mind was a storm, thoughts crashing against each other, relentless.Jonathan. His name was a knife in my chest. Where was he now? In Asante’s arms, her dark hair spilling across his chest, her lips claiming what was mine? The image burned, vivid and cruel. My mate, my fated one, tangled in another woman’s sheets. Would he kiss her the way he kissed me, his hands roaming her skin, his breath hot against her neck? The thought twisted my gut, a sickening ache that made me want to scream into the void. How could I ever be whole, knowing he was hers in the eyes of the pack, th
The door creaked open, slow, deliberate. I froze, sitting stiff on the edge of the bed. Jonathan had played his part, and maybe he had failed. Maguire, my husband is back, I thought.And then she slipped in. Isabella. Her smile sharp as broken glass, her hips swaying like she owned the night."Isabella?"“Get out, bitch,” she hissed, her voice low, poisonous. “I’ll replace you.”My brows knitted. “Replace me? What do you mean?”She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she strode straight to me, grabbed a fistful of my hood, and yanked. My breath caught as she shoved me toward the door.“Wait—”But Isabella was strong, fueled by something darker than desire. Her nails scraped my neck as she pushed again, lips curling in satisfaction. “Tonight isn’t yours, Elara. Go sit in your little corner and pray that the king would be fooled as we have planned. I’ve got this.”The slam of the door echoed in my skull. I stumbled into the corridor, the cold stone biting at my bare feet. My heart thund
The office was cavernous, dim but humming with the weight of history. Maps stretched across the oak desk like veins of a living beast. Candles burned low, throwing shadows over my father’s sharp profile. He hadn’t looked at me once since I entered, his gaze glued to the parchment, fingers tracing borders and red-inked lines like they might bleed beneath his touch. I cleared my throat. “Father.” No answer. Just the scratch of his nail against the map. I stepped closer, the air thick with ink, parchment, and the scent of his dominance — a scent that always made my chest tighten, as if the room itself pressed down on me. “There’s news,” I said. “Whispers from the northern border. Another pack is stirring, one not allied to us. They’re… plotting. Preparing for something.” At that, he finally looked up. His eyes, cold as river stones, narrowed. “From where?” I’d prepared the lie all afternoon, twisting it from nothing into something that sounded like smoke from a hidden fire.
The chamber swallowed me whole. Its walls were draped in crimson velvet, heavy and suffocating, its curtains drawn tight against the night. Firelight flickered across stone carved with beasts and wolves, shadows prowling the edges of the room as though they waited to devour me. At the center, the bed loomed — a monstrous thing of blackwood, carved with snarling wolves, its silken covers a dark river spilling to the floor. The attendants had left me there, dressed in nothing more than a thin robe of pale gossamer. It clung to my damp skin like a second layer, transparent enough to make my heart race. My breath trembled in the silence. My knees pressed together as though I could hold myself inside, safe, untouched. I folded my hands and whispered prayers I could no longer remember, words spilling like broken beads from a snapped rosary. Gods, spirits, anyone… deliver me. Deliver me now. A sound stirred. A shadow shifted at the far end of the chamber. The Alpha King emerged.
I sat in the bath for the second time. The same treatment. The same faces and the same warmth. The bath was a sanctuary of steam and scented oils. It felt like a final act of grace, like a ritual before sacrifice. They dressed me in a gown of creamy silk, its weight a solemn burden, its texture a stranger on my skin. The fabric clung to my every curve, a beautiful shroud for a dying hope. They wove a crown of wildflowers into my hair, each delicate petal a whisper of a life I was about to lose. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror, its eyes hollowed pools of sorrow. I was led down a long corridor. The air grew thick with the scent of a thousand flowers and the murmur of a thousand voices, a human ocean awaiting its spectacle. At the end of the hall, a vast door, a monolithic mouth, waited to swallow me. Beside me was another woman. We both stood on the same like, veils covering our faces. Her gown was a midnight river of silk, contrasted with my own pale attire. My
My room felt colder than usual. I lay upon the vast bed, the soft duvet offering no solace, only amplifying the hollow drumbeat of waiting. Waiting... Waiting for the news. I was part of the pack. Yet, as though I won't be affected, I was hoping for a war. A war that would keep Jonathan and the Alpha King out of the palace for a while. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant voice, snatched my breath, twisted the silence into a knot of anticipation. My fingers traced the delicate embroidery of the pillowcase, a futile attempt to anchor myself to reality. The silence stretched, a taut wire ready to snap.Then, the door swung inward without a knock. Isabella. Just as she entered without a knock when she caught I and Jonathan.Her presence was a storm front, her eyes twin shards of ice, dissecting my quiet despair. A smirk, a venomous snake, curled her lips."So, the wolf comes home," she purred, her voice a poison drip. She sauntered into the room, her movements a deliberate







