Chapter 8: The Invitation

When I woke up the next morning, the space beside me was cold. Killian was gone.

Panic flared for a split second—had he abandoned me?—until I saw the object sitting on the nightstand next to a glass of water.

A brand new, sleek black smartphone.

I picked it up. It was already set up. No password. I tapped the contacts icon.

There was only one number saved.

"My King."

My face heated up. Arrogant jerk. But I couldn't suppress the tiny smile that tugged at my lips. He had kept his promise.

I walked out into the massive living room, wearing one of Killian’s oversized shirts that I had found draped over a chair. It smelled like him—cedar and power—and it hung down to my knees, making me look even smaller than I was.

Killian was in the kitchen, leaning against the marble counter, drinking black coffee. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt that strained against his biceps.

He looked up as I entered, his eyes darkening as they swept over my legs.

"Good morning," he rumbled, his voice rough with sleep. "The shirt suits you. Better than it suits me."

"It's a tent," I muttered, pulling the hem down self-consciously. "Where are my clothes?"

"Burned," he said casually, taking a sip of coffee. "They smelled like your ex. New ones are coming later."

Before I could argue about him burning my property, a sharp knock echoed from the main door of the Forbidden Wing.

Killian’s expression shifted instantly. The relaxed domestic vibe vanished, replaced by the cold, lethal mask of the Alpha.

"Stay here," he ordered.

He walked to the door and pulled it open.

Standing there was a terrified-looking Beta from the main pack. He was shaking so hard he nearly dropped the gold-embossed envelope in his hands.

"A-Alpha Killian," the Beta stuttered, refusing to make eye contact. "Alpha Liam... I mean, young master Liam... sent this. He said it is mandatory for all pack members to attend."

Killian snatched the envelope. "Get lost."

The Beta scrambled away as fast as his legs could carry him.

Killian slammed the door and ripped the envelope open. He scanned the contents, a cruel sneer curling his lip.

"What is it?" I asked, stepping closer.

He handed me the card.

It was heavy, expensive cardstock. Gold lettering shimmered in the morning light:

You are cordially invited to the Official Mating Ceremony of Alpha Heir Liam and Future Luna Chloe. Tonight at 7:00 PM. The Grand Hall.

Below, there was a handwritten note in Chloe’s loopy, childish handwriting: “Elena, please come. We want your blessing. Don't be a sore loser! :)”

I felt like I was going to be sick.

"They want me to watch," I whispered, crushing the card in my hand. "They want me to stand there and watch him mark her. They want to rub it in my face in front of the whole pack."

"Of course they do," Killian said, his voice flat. "It's a power play. If you don't go, you look weak and defeated. If you go and cry, you look pathetic."

"I can't go," I said, shaking my head frantically. "I can't handle it, Killian. Please don't make me go."

Killian walked over to me. He took the crumpled invitation from my hand and tossed it into the fireplace. We watched as the flames licked the gold letters, turning Chloe’s name to ash.

"You are right. You can't go as Elena, the rejected mate," Killian said, turning back to me.

He reached out, his hand cupping my cheek, forcing me to look up into his fierce, glowing eyes.

"But you will go," he declared. "You will go as my date."

"Your... date?" My eyes widened. "But that will cause a war! Liam will lose his mind. My father will have a stroke."

"Let them," Killian growled, a savage grin spreading across his face. "Let them see who really owns you. Let them see that while Liam plays with a pebble, I have claimed the diamond."

He pulled out his phone—the matching black one to mine—and dialed a number.

"Send the stylist," he barked into the phone. "And bring the red dress. The one that looks like blood and sin."

He hung up and looked at me, his gaze hungry and possessive.

"Tonight, Elena, we aren't just attending a party," he whispered, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "We are going to burn it to the ground."