The morning after

CHAPTER 006 

THE MORNING AFTER

Dawn broke over the Greensville Pack like a reluctant thief, stealing away the shadows of the night but leaving behind what had transpired. Cecilia lay in the massive four-poster bed, staring at the intricate carvings on the canopy above her.

The sheets were tangled around her legs, still damp with sweat and scented with blood — his blood, her arousal, the undeniable proof of their forced union.

Her body ached in places she hadn't known could ache, a deep, throbbing reminder of how thoroughly she had been undone.

But it wasn't just physical; something inside her felt cracked, exposed, like a fortress wall breached in the dead of night.

She turned her head slightly, glancing at the couch across the room where Cassian had retreated after... after everything.

He was already gone, the blanket folded neatly as if the night had been nothing more than a dream. Or a nightmare. The drumming probably had stopped hours ago, replaced by the distant sounds of the pack stirring. She could hear servants whispering in the halls, warriors heading to morning drills. They knew. Everyone knew.

The guards had unlocked the doors at first light, no doubt reporting back to Bonn that the deed was done.

Cecilia sat up abruptly, wincing at the pull between her thighs.

She wouldn't let this define her. She was still the Alpha Queen.

 Last night had been a necessity, a weapon to wield her crown. Nothing more. She freshened up and dressed quickly in her formal attire — a high-collared black tunic embroidered with the Greensville crest, leather pants that hugged her like a second skin, reminding everyone she was still lethal, and boots that clicked against the stone floor.

Her red hair she bound back severely, no loose strands to betray vulnerability.

The great hall was already filling when she arrived. Pack members gathered for the morning assembly, a daily ritual where announcements were made and loyalties reaffirmed.

Today, the air buzzed with anticipation. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through the forest: *Did she do it? * *The drumming stopped — she must have. * *The poor consort, I wonder if he survived her. * *Or if she survived him*

Bonn stood at the head of the dais, flanked by the council elders. Lila hovered nearby, her cousin's face pale and drawn, eyes downcast.

Cecilia climbed the steps with deliberate slowness, her chin high, meeting every gaze that dared linger too long. Cassian was already there, standing a respectful distance from Bonn, his shirt covering the fresh scars she'd given him. His lip was split, a bruise blooming along his jaw, but he held himself with dignity. No one would guess how savagely she'd marked him — or how he'd turned the tables.

No one needs to know about that information anyways.

The hall fell silent as Cecilia took her place at the center of the dais. Bonn nodded to her, his expression unreadable, but she saw the faint approval in his eyes. The elders shifted, some smirking openly — Elder Eric's lips curled in smug satisfaction, as if her submission was a victory for them all.

"Greensville Pack," Cecilia began, her voice cold and commanding, echoing off the stone walls. "Last night marked the completion of the alliance with the Redwood pack. The marriage has been consummated." She let the words hang, clinical and detached, like a battle report. No emotion. No weakness. "The bond is sealed. And now our strength grows."

A murmur swept through the crowd — relief from some, curiosity from others. The elders exchanged glances; Elder Margaret's smirk deepened, as if she'd won a bet.

Lila's face on the other hand crumpled for a split second, her eyes glistening with unshed tears before she composed herself.

Devastation flickered there — Lila, who had always been the "sensible" one, now forever sidelined. Bonn simply nodded, a single, curt gesture of approval.

Cecilia's wolf stirred inside her, satisfied by the power churning in the room, but unsettled by the undercurrents. She wouldn't let this moment slip. She needed to reassert control, to remind them all who ruled here.

Her gaze locked on Cassian. "Consort," she called sharply, the title dripping with disdain. "Join me at the training grounds. Now!"

He inclined his head without protest, following as she strode from the dais. The pack parted before her like prey before a predator. Whispers followed: *She's taking him to the grounds? After last night?* *Poor bastard.*

The training grounds were alive with the clang of weapons and the grunts of warriors honing their skills.

The air smelled of sweat, earth, and iron — familiar, grounding. Cecilia dragged Cassian into the central ring, the warriors pausing their drills to watch.

She could feel their eyes, their judgment. Last night's drumming was fresh in their minds; they wanted to see if the consort was worthy — or if she would break him.

"Spar with me," she commanded, dropping into a fighting stance. Her muscles still ached from the night, but she channeled it into fury. "Show them what you're made of."

Cassian hesitated, his bruised face impassive. "Cecilia, this isn't —"

"Fight!" She lunged, fist flying toward his ribs.

He dodged, but barely, his movements fluid but restrained. She pressed the attack — kick, punch, sweep — each blow landing with calculated force.

A fist to his jaw reopened the split lip; blood trickled down his chin. He blocked most, but didn't counter, absorbing the punishment like he had the night before.

The warriors gathered, murmuring. "He's not even trying." "Alpha Queen's playing with her food."

Cecilia snarled, sweeping his legs out. He went down hard, dust billowing. She stood over him, breathing ragged. "Get up. Fight back."

He rose slowly, wiping blood from his mouth. She charged again fast; a brutal blow aimed toward his face.

This time, he caught it. His hand closed around her arm like iron, stopping her momentum dead. The strength in that grip, the same that had pinned her wrists last night sent a jolt through her.

He leaned in close, voice a lethal whisper only she could hear: "Keep pushing, Cecilia. One day I’ll stop holding back and show you what I am really made of."

She yanked free, her heart pounding wildly. Not just from rage. But from a heat pooling low in her belly. Her wolf, Lavender, surged forward, not in anger, but in craving. “You know,” she started rearing her head up, “He could break us,” she continued in that low voice, “And we'd love it anyways.”

Cecilia spun away, clearly shaken in anger by the act and what lavender said, stalking off the grounds. She was furious. Furious. Shaken. And shamefully wet. For the first time, she wondered if her wolf was right — if dominance was what she truly feared... or desired.