SEVEN ROUNDS

AISHA

The tension in the heavy stone tower was so thick it made it hard to breathe. The torches flickering along the wall cast long, dark shadows across Damian’s face. He was filled with a cold, terrifying rage, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his neck strained.

I stood my ground in the center of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs, but I was genuinely shocked by his reaction. When we made our deal in his war tent, everything was crystal clear. It was a loveless marriage, purely an arrangement with benefits. He wanted the lethal power of the last surviving White Wolf to defeat his enemies, and I wanted his massive army to avenge my murdered brothers, Leo and Toby. There was no bond, no warmth, and certainly no love promised between us.

Yet here he was, looking at me as if I had torn out his very soul.

"You belong to me!" Damian roared, his powerful Alpha voice echoing off the curved stone walls of the cell. The sheer force of his command made the heavy iron sconces rattle, and even the elite guards standing outside the door flinched.

I took a slow, deep breath, forcing my voice to remain soft and calm despite the thunder in his eyes.

"Damian, please," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "Let’s not forget why we signed that agreement. We got married for an alliance. You knew from the very beginning that I didn't come here to be a soft, doting wife. I came here for vengeance."

"Do not twist this, Aisha!" he spat, taking a heavy step toward me, his dark eyes flashing with pure fury. "I do not care about your arrangements right now! You are the Luna of the Black Star Pack. You wear my ring, you carry my name, and you cannot defile my throne by creeping off in the dead of night to sleep with Samson!"

I didn't bother to deny it. I didn't see the need to lie to his face right now, but I still refused to sit here and actively agree that I slept with Samson just to satisfy his pride. My reasons for going to Samson were my own. I wanted to disarm the man who used to be my friend, to stop a pointless war before it started, and to make him see through Mabel’s sick, twisted lies.

"I need to go to my room," I said softly, wrapping my arms around myself as the cold mountain draft swept through the open tower door. "I am tired, Damian."

Damian stared at me for a long, silent moment. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and burning with a storm of suppressed emotions. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

"Lock her in," he ordered the guards outside, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy tone. "She does not leave until I say so."

They shut the heavy door, and the sound of the deadbolt sliding into place felt like a sharp slap.

For the next two days, I remained trapped inside those walls. Surprisingly, the prison wasn't a damp, dark dungeon. It was a beautiful luxury suite situated at the very top of the east wing. It had a massive feather bed with velvet sheets, a warm fireplace that the servants kept lit, a polished brass bathtub, and hot meals served three times a day. It almost felt like home, a safe haven away from the harsh realities of the world.

Yet, no matter how plush the pillows were, it was still a cage. I could not move outside those four walls. I spent hours pacing the soft carpets, staring out the arched glass windows at the sprawling territory of the Black Star Pack below. Every second spent locked in this luxurious prison felt like a waste of time. My brothers were six feet underground in raw dirt, and their killer, Luna Mabel, was sitting comfortably in the Blue Wing palace, wearing silk and playing the grieving widow.

On the third day, the heavy lock finally clicked open.

Two guards stepped into the room, bowing their heads respectfully. "Luna Aisha, Alpha Damian has requested your presence in his private quarters."

I didn't wait for them to escort me like a prisoner. I pushed past them, my heavy silk robe trailing behind me as I marched straight down the grand hallway to Damian's master suite.

When I pushed the doors open, Damian was standing by the large balcony, looking out over his kingdom. He wore a simple black tunic, his thick hair slightly tousled, but the aura of absolute authority around him was as strong as ever.

He turned around slowly as I walked in.

"Damian," I spoke up immediately, keeping my voice firm and steady. "I am in this marriage to avenge the death of my brothers. That is my only purpose. Lock me up for days, strip me of my freedom, do whatever you want—but locking me up will not help me avenge their deaths. It just keeps Mabel safe while my real work remains undone."

Damian walked over to me, stopping just inches away. His dark eyes searched my face, scanning every detail of my features.

"You want your revenge, Aisha, and you will have it," he said, his voice dropping into a quiet, intense murmur. "But you are not to sleep with Samson. Ever again. Do you understand me? You just made him my enemy."

A sharp wave of anxiety hit my chest. My mind raced. I knew how dangerous and incredibly powerful Damian was. If a man as ruthless as Alpha Damian officially made Samson his enemy, he wouldn't just defeat him—he would wipe the Blue Wing Pack off the face of the earth. Samson was a good man who had been completely blinded by Mabel's deceit. He didn't deserve to die in Damian's wrath.

To save Samson's life and protect what was left of my old home, I knew I had to lie.

I looked straight into Damian’s dark, searching eyes, softening my posture and letting a touch of vulnerability show on my face.

"Damian... I didn't sleep with Samson," I whispered softly, letting my voice quiver just a little. "I went to his study to talk to him. I wanted to convince him that I wasn't the murderer his wife claimed I was. I wanted to prevent a war between your pack and his. Nothing happened between us. I swear to you."

Damian stared at me, his breathing heavy. Convincing him was surprisingly easy. The tension in his shoulders visibly melted away, and the cold, deadly glint in his eyes softened into something almost tender.

It was in that exact moment, watching the relief wash over his handsome face, that the sudden, terrifying truth hit me.

Damian had fallen in love with me.

The powerful, feared Alpha of the Black Star Pack—a man who claimed he only wanted my White Wolf blood to crush his enemies—had actually given his heart to me.

And truth be told, I didn't like that at all. Love was a weakness. Love was a distraction. Love was the reason Samson was blinded by Mabel, and love was a vulnerability I couldn't afford when my hands were still stained with the blood of my brothers' memory. I didn't want his heart, I just wanted his army.

Before I could process the sudden weight of my realization, Damian reached out and cupped the back of my neck.

"You are mine, Aisha," he murmured, his voice thick with a sudden, overwhelming desire. "Only mine."

Without waiting for a response, his large hands moved to the ties of my robe. He stripped my clothes away, letting the fine fabric drop to the polished floor, exposing my naked skin to the cool air of the room. I didn't pull away. I stood there, letting him look at me, keeping my expression neutral as he swept me off my feet and slowly pushed me down onto the massive king-sized bed.

Damian climbed over me, his body heavy and warm. He spread my legs apart, resting on his knees as he looked down between my thighs. He took his time, his dark eyes burning as he admired my wet, exposed pussy, taking in every inch of me as if he were looking at the most precious treasure in his kingdom.

"It belongs to me alone," he whispered, his hot breath brushing against my inner thighs. "Every single part of you."

He leaned down, lowering his head between my legs. I gasped, my fingers instantly clutching the velvet bedsheets as his warm tongue glided directly over my clitoris. He licked me slowly, deliberately, playing with the sensitive nerve endings until a shiver ran through my entire body. He swirled his tongue around my core, drinking me in, building a sudden, intense heat that spread like wildfire through my belly.

When my hips began to unconsciously arch up toward him, Damian pulled back with a low, primal growl. He unbuckled his pants, freeing his thick, massive penis. He guided his head to my opening, parted my lips, and penetrated deep inside me in one swift, heavy thrust.

I let out a sharp cry as he filled me completely.

He didn't hold back. He was fast, driving his hips into mine with a relentless, punishing rhythm. He didn't seem to care whether I was actively enjoying the intensity or not; he was marking his territory, claiming me with every brutal, powerful stroke. He was rough, his hands gripping my hips so tightly his fingers left soft red marks on my skin.

Yet, despite his roughness and the dominance he was asserting, I couldn't deny the physical reaction of my own body. I actually enjoyed the massive size of his length stretching me, filling every tiny corner of my core until I was breathless and gasping for air.

He flipped me over onto my stomach, pulling my hips up into the air and driving into me from behind, his chest pressing flat against my back as he whispered dark, possessive promises into my ear. He turned me into different positions throughout the night—on my side, pinned beneath his broad shoulders, and sitting over his lap—giving me hot, rough, unforgiving sex that left the bedsheets tangled and damp with sweat.

All through the long hours of the night, he took me over and over again. By the time the faint golden light of dawn began to seep through the tall balcony curtains, Damian had slept with me over seven times. I lay there in the quiet room, completely exhausted, my muscles aching, wondering where on earth he got such boundless supernatural strength from.

Damian lay beside me, fast asleep, his heavy arm wrapped securely around my waist, holding me tight against his warm chest.

I stared up at the grand ceiling, my body completely drained, but my mind was miles away. No matter how many times Damian had filled me tonight, no matter how intense his touch was, the single round of passion I had shared with Samson on the leather couch in his study kept playing in a continuous loop inside my head.

Samson’s touch had felt different. It was filled with history, with regret, and with a raw, desperate tenderness that Damian’s possessive fury could never replicate.

A few hours later, the soft morning light fully filled the master suite. Damian woke up early, kissing the top of my forehead while I pretended to be asleep, before dressing in his formal tunic and leaving the room to attend to his pack duties for the day.

The moment the heavy bedroom doors clicked shut behind him, I sat up.

My body was sore, but my mind was instantly sharp. I threw on a simple dark gown, tied my silvery hair back, and stepped out into the quiet corridor. I needed to check Damian’s private study. He kept all his confidential war maps, scout reports, and international pack intelligence in there. If I wanted to track down Mabel’s political movements or find out what Samson was planning, that room had the answers.

I glided down the hallway, keeping my steps completely silent as I navigated the quiet wing of the palace. When I reached the heavy doors of his study, I reached out and gently pushed them open, stepping quietly into the room.

The words caught in my throat, and my blood instantly turned to liquid ice.

Standing in the center of the room, right beside Damian’s desk, was a woman dressed in a magnificent, gold-trimmed velvet dress. Her dark hair was styled into elegant curls, and her manicured hand was resting casually on Damian's arm.

It was Mabel.

She turned her head as the door creaked open, her sharp, beautiful features twisting into a cruel, victorious smile as her eyes locked onto mine.