7. Kidnapping comes with a roommate

Rayna~

He opened the door to a large room, and weirdly enough I was utterly disappointed.

I expected a room with chains, or maybe even a dungeon.

“You don’t seem excited to be in your—well our room.”

“‘Our’ room?” I arched a brow. “Lovely. You kidnapping me comes with being your roommate?”

My voice was dripping with skepticism—and maybe just a hint of fear.

“It is not particularly my fault that you made it dramatic, pulling me in here and being all secretive. I expected something sinister.”

He chuckled, low and amused, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind us.

“Sinister? Like chains? Princess, that’s so… mundane. I never thought you'd be so interested in getting kinky with me.” His green eyes glinted, dangerous and unhinged. “Not to worry, everything in here is for you… or for me, when I choose to use you.”

I swallowed hard, the room’s plush interior doing nothing to soothe the pit in my stomach.

“So… this is where you bring all your women?”

He tilted his head, slow and deliberate, as though enjoying my discomfort.

“Jealous already? Don't worry, I'm yours whenever you need me.”

I rolled my eyes but I could feel the heat growing within me, everything he said always seemed to affect me in ways I didn't want to admit.

“I don’t need to know who you fuck. I already feel sorry for them.”

“If lying will keep you warm tonight, please be my guest.”

Asshole.

“Take your bath and come downstairs,” he said, voice cold but commanding, like there was no room for negotiation.

“Go on,” he said simply, his green eyes lingering on me like a predator savoring its next move.

I hesitated, swallowing my nerves, then nodded stiffly, turning toward the bathroom, every fiber of me aware that nothing in this house—or my life—would ever be the same.

It was funny how every single thing about my life changed in less than a month. I went from wife to divorcée and now a fucking space to a mad man.

A mad hot man. A voice in my head corrected.

I dried off slowly, letting my fingers trace over my skin in the mirror. My black curls had gone wild, and my pale skin looked almost ghostly under the soft light.

I needed to find an escape, but even if I did manage to where would I go?

If I could grab Dario and throw him into a fiery furnace I would, i’d break every bone of his until he was merely a human but too bad I couldn't.

I begrudgingly returned into the room, a new set of clothes and a phone sat neatly on the bed.

Clothes, I understand but a phone? Suddenly I realized I hadn't once seen my phone since I woke up.

Why was he being nice to me?

Nice? Not really. Controlling, definitely.

I picked up the phone, and sure enough, a text was already waiting:

Come down. I need you to meet someone.

Tsk. It was laughable how he thought he could boss me around, I wasn't part of his little fan club nor did I give a shit about what pleased him.

I ignored the neatly folded clothes, instead I walked to the wardrobe, changed into one of his shirts that swallowed me, and collapsed onto the bed.

I needed a nap, I still felt tired and whoever he needed me to meet could wait.

My eyes shut close and within seconds I drifted into the most calming sleep.

Little chatters curled around me, not loud but distant waking me from whatever dewam I was having.

I blinked against the dim light, groaning as I tried to make sense of shapes and my surroundings.

A weight filled the room, like someone was staring at me or better still watching me as I slept.

Panic set it and my eyes snapped open.

Sven.

He was standing there, leaning against the doorframe, green eyes catching the faint light, piercing straight through me.

He didn't make any move to say a thing, all he did was watch me as if trying to burn the image of me into his mind. Like the first time I woke up in his study.

My heart hammered with excitement, fear and a need I didn't quite get.

“Well well, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty. Good morning,” he said, adjusting his stance at the doorframe.

Morning?

How long had I slept? I planned on taking a little nap and coming down for dinner, I guess I must have been really tired.

I sat up abruptly, covering myself with the blanket, suddenly feeling exposed in ways that had nothing to do with the shirt I wore.

“What… what are you doing here?” I managed, trying to mask the tremor in my voice.

He smirked, that unnerving, predatory smirk, and took a step closer.

“Our room, remember? I was watching you, and you argue in your sleep. It’s… entertaining.”

“That’s creepy.” I pointed out.

I turned to the other side of the bed and noticed it was still as it were, he didn't sleep here.

“You didn't sleep here last night?” it was supposed to be a question but it came out as more of an accusation.

“I did, on the couch.”

A pang of disappointment washed over me, he didn't want to stay on the same bed as me. Despite all his claims?

“So you're a gentleman?” I asked, teasing him.

“Rayna” He started, pulling away from the doorframe.

“Wh-what?” My name sounded so foreign on his tongue, so right.

“I told you to come downstairs after your shower,” he said, stepping closer, the smirk on his face sharp enough to cut glass.

I froze for a moment, caught between irritation and anger, was that why he chose the couch? Because I didn't come downstairs?

“I was resting,” I muttered, tugging the blanket tighter around me.

“Resting?” His tone dipped lower. “You could have sent a text back saying you would be resting.”

My pulse spiked, and I swallowed hard, realizing there was no arguing with him—not really.

Not when he spoke like that, like he wasn’t mad but would choke me in seconds.

“I just crawled out of a coma, Sven. Forgive me for not sprinting to your little meet and greet.”

Sven’s smirk deepened. “You’ve got a pretty smart mouth, Princess. If only you put it to work last night,” he murmured.

I tightened the blanket around myself, trying to summon a shred of authority over my own body.

“Look, I was tired, okay? I needed to rest. And let’s make one thing clear—you shouldn’t expect me to jump at your every request.”

His eyes narrowed, glimmering with something cold.

“Do you know what your absence cost me?”

I frowned. “I really don’t care.”

“I’ll tell you, everyone in my court waited for you presence. My council questioned me. And for the first time in years… I apologized on your behalf. And I don't apologize.”

I blinked, swallowing hard, my pulse jumping. “Oh no, poor Alpha had to apologize? Did it hurt? Want me to fetch you a Band-Aid for your pride?”

His face darkened and I knew I was overstepping with him, but I just couldn't stop trying to piss him off.

“Now listen carefully, when I call you I expect you to run down the stairs because if you don’t it reflects on me.”

“So you’re saying I made your life harder?”

“Exactly.” His eyes burned into me. “I built this pack from nothing and my people, they just don't respect me—they fear me. So when you their Luna to be disobeys it makes me look weak.”

He continued. “And when they see your actions as unworthy of my title I have to remind them of who is in charge.”

Something twisted in my chest. Pride, guilt, remorse. But mostly pride.

Despite his insightful speech, I couldn’t let him have the upper hand.

“That sounds like a you problem, maybe if you had told me before hand I would have conveyed my tiredness to you. But you chose to set the rules for me, and I don't abide by rules.”

“Do better, next time.”

He chuckled low, shaking his head slowly. “Next time, Princess… next time might not be so forgiving. I should punish you.”

“Maybe you should. Or maybe you’re all bark, no bite,” I shot back, the words leaving my mouth before I could think it through.

His eyes darkened, and in a blur, I was over his shoulder, my breath stolen, skin burning where he held me.

“Your skin…” His voice was low. “So fucking smooth.”

Before I could retort, the room shifted, steam rising around us. The bathroom glowed with heat, the tub already waiting.

He set me down, steady, deliberate. Fingers brushed the hem of the shirt I wore—his shirt. He slipped it away without hesitation, leaving me bare under his gaze.

“What are you doing?” The question left me too quickly, my voice barely a whisper.

His smirk cut through me, eyes gleaming with something devious.

“Punishing you.”