IV

"No! You belong to my father, none else," Jonathan replied.

"Please," I pleaded, tears welling in my eyes. "I don't want to end up like one of the slaves who call themselves brides of the Alpha King. I don't want to have a man without feeling, just to give birth. I want to experience love. I want to be attached to my mate."

Jonathan’s jaw tightened. "My father is your mate," he shouted.

“I don’t think so, Prince Jonathan. If I am married to a man who’s not my mate, a man as powerful as the Alpha King, my wolf will never come out. I have to avenge my mother and have my own pack. I need my wolf for that,” I pleaded.

He beckoned to one of the guards with a curt gesture. "Hey, come pick her up."

The guard approached, his expression impassive, his movements efficient.

"No," I cried, kissing him. It was a rush of events; I didn’t even feel the kiss. I did it out of reflex. "You are my mate. I felt it. When you touched me, my wolf stirred within me. I need you for my wolf to mature. Please, Alpha Prince."

"I-Fucking-Know," he barked, stressing every word.

I stood there, staring at him. My heart became a tumultuous sea of hope and despair. He knew? He acknowledged the connection, the bond between us. And yet, he was going to give me away. The cruel irony was almost unbearable.

"I felt it too," Jonathan continued, his voice softer now. "But you're given to my father, and so it will remain."

The guard reached our side. "My lord, you called me," he said, his voice respectful yet business-like.

“Take her away,” Jonathan ordered. The guard grabbed my arm, beginning to drag me toward the hall.

"Please, Prince Jonathan," I cried, my voice choked with tears, "please, mate me."

Jonathan paced back and forth, a whirlwind of conflicted emotions surging within him. He spun around, his hands clenched, his body tense. He ran a hand through his hair and watched as I was dragged away.

"Stop!" he shouted, his voice ringing out in the hall. "Take her… to my room."

***

In Jonathan’s room, I marveled at the large mattress, the lush walls, and the opulent setting, but Jonathan was on my mind.

He’d ordered that I be taken to his room. Was he seeing me the way I wanted to be seen? I wondered.

“I hope he does,” I whispered to myself.

The door opened, and Jonathan rushed in. “It’s a time of war, and you want me to rebel against my father?” he asked, closing the distance between us.

“I should be yours,” I said softly into his ear.

“He will kill you and banish me if he ever finds out,” he replied. Now, our noses touched, and I caught his breath. He surely would catch mine too.

“Are you going to tell him?” I asked. It was comical, but not for the moment. Alpha Maguire would definitely find out if my hymen was ruptured.

“You’re crazy,” he said, wrapping his hands around my waist, pulling me close.

His lips captured mine in a warm embrace. Immediately, all the fabrics of my body entwined with his in the kiss and the embrace.

I’d learned a lot from Jenny Da’Bitch about kissing. But I forgot everything I knew. His tongue found the roof of my mouth, and I managed a moan amid the kiss.

He grabbed my ass and spanked me in the brief respite that followed. Pain mingled with pleasure, and I wanted more.

*Are we going to do it?* I wondered.

He pushed me toward his bed, and I landed softly on it. The bed could easily have held ten. He slid my short gown up my thigh and rolled down my panties.

*Oh yes. We should do it!* Death and banishment? Was he ready to fight through that?

He lifted my legs, and I did just as the bather had said. One leg to the west, and the other to the east. I was prepped for the Alpha King; I was delivering myself to the Alpha Prince.

I was expecting a gash – pain – searing pain – and penetration. But all I felt was a softer impact, cool, wet, and gently surveying my entrance.

He was eating me!

“Oh-My-God!” I gasped.

At some point, I didn’t know what he was doing. But I knew what *I* was doing. I rumpled the bedsheet, my nails almost sinking in. My hand grabbed a pillow, and I sent it flying across the room. One of my hands grabbed his head in a somewhat hypocritical approach. Maybe I wanted him to stop or to keep his head in place; I didn’t know.

His tongue caressed my hymen. His goatee brushed my lips. His two hands grabbed my breasts while I kept his head in place.

If this was how my holiday as a bride in the Furiosa pack was going to go, well, I didn’t care.

Suddenly, the door burst open.

Jonathan sprang to his feet, and I closed my legs immediately. We’d been caught? By whom?