Unripe For Him

Rebecca’s POV

​I stared at Enzo, my vision blurring. For a moment, I didn’t believe it. It felt as though the floor had opened up to swallow me whole.

​"Congratulations," Father said, his voice thick with pride.

​"No!" I shouted.

​I shot to my feet so fast the chair nearly crashed backward. Before anyone could stop me, I rushed toward Enzo and grabbed both of his arms. My fingers dug into his sleeves. "You can't pick my sister. You can't!"

​Enzo’s body was like a statue—cold and stiff. "Yes, I can, Rebecca," he said. His voice was flat, devoid of a single spark of feeling.

​"Liar!" I screamed, shaking him. "You don’t even like Clara! You barely tolerate her. You told me she was too stiff, too boring. You can’t do this!"

​"Rebecca, that is enough!" Father roared from the bed, sounding frustrated.

​"It’s not enough!" I turned back to Enzo, searching his eyes for the man who had bled for me on the rocks. "Tell him you made a mistake! Tell him!"

​Enzo didn't look at me; instead, he looked at my father. "Excuse me, Alpha. I need some air."

​He shoved my hands off his arms as if I were a piece of trash and walked out. The door clicked shut behind him, and the sound felt like the final nail sealing me inside a coffin. I turned to Clara, who was standing there with a blank expression on her face.

​"Reject it!" I begged, grabbing her hand. "Tell Father you don’t want this marriage. Clara, you know how much I love him. You know he’s my life!"

​Clara looked away awkwardly, pulling her hand from mine. "Rebecca—"

​"Stop this nonsense," Father snapped angrily. "Get a grip on your dignity. That man does not want you," Father said coldly. "To him, you are nothing more than a foolish little sister."

​"I am not his sister!" I screamed. I looked at Clara again, but she avoided my gaze.

​I couldn't breathe. I spun around and ran from the suite before anyone could stop me. I didn't go to my room; I ran straight to Enzo's.

​Luckily, the door was unlocked. I shoved it open violently and found him standing by his desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

​"Enzo, what are you doing?" I gasped, slamming the door behind me.

​He didn't turn around. He just tilted his head back and finished the glass. "What does it look like, Rebecca?"

​"Enzo, it was me. You were supposed to pick me! Why would you do this to us?"

​He finally turned, and the mockery in his eyes broke me. He scoffed, a dark, mean sound. "Pick you? Why would I pick you? What makes you think you are fit to be my woman? To be the Luna of this pack?"

​"I love you!" I cried, my voice breaking. "And I know you feel it too. You call me a little girl, but we are only ten years apart, Enzo! Just ten years! That doesn't make me a child!"

​"You think age is the only reason I can't be with you?" he snapped suddenly, slamming his glass down on the table. He stepped toward me, towering over me.

​"You want to know why I chose Clara? Fine. I’ll tell you. You are impulsive and reckless. You’re emotional and spoiled. You act before thinking, throwing tantrums when things don’t go your way. Ten years or twenty, it wouldn't matter—you don't have the maturity for this."

​I flinched, but he didn't stop.

​"You are childish, Rebecca. You threatened suicide because your father wanted to send you to school. You jumped off a cliff because you saw me with another woman. You almost got both of us killed because you wanted to play games."

​He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "A Luna cannot afford to be weak every time life hurts her feelings. Clara is calm. She is rational and responsible. She knows how to lead. You? You are a disaster. You don't love me—you love the fantasy of me."

​"That's not true!" I sobbed, reaching for his hand. "Enzo, I'll change! I swear I will. I'll be whoever you want me to be. Just don't marry her. Please... give me a chance."

​He looked down at my hand, his expression flickering for just a second before turning back into stone.

​"It’s never happening," he said coldly. "Not in this life or the next. Now get out of my room before I have the guards drag you out."

​Then he turned his back on me so easily, as though I meant absolutely nothing to him.

​Shame burned through me so violently I thought I might actually die from it. Any normal girl would have walked away. Any normal girl would have protected what little pride she had left. But I wasn’t normal when it came to Enzo. I loved him—pathetically, obsessively, maybe even delusionally.

​He kept calling me a child. A little girl. Fine. If he wouldn’t listen to my words, I would make him look at the truth.

​Slowly, my trembling fingers reached for the zipper of my dress. Enzo still had his back turned toward me, one hand braced against the desk as if he couldn't even stand to look at me. The fabric slid down my body, pooling at my feet with a soft thud. Then came the rest. Piece by piece.

​In our pack, nudity was nothing during a shift. But I had always avoided group shifts. I was too shy, too terrified that Enzo would look at my body and not like what he saw. But standing there in the cool air of his room, I realized I had nothing left to lose.

​When the last piece of clothing dropped to the floor, the silence between us became unbearable.

​"Look at me, Enzo," I whispered. My voice wasn't shaking anymore. It was low and steady.

​"Rebecca, leave," he growled, his back still turned. I could see the muscles in his shoulders bunch up. He was gripping the edge of his desk so hard the wood began to creak. "Don't make me call the guards."

​"Look me in the eye and tell me I'm a child," I said, taking a slow step toward him. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me."

​The air in the room changed. It became heavy, thick with the scent of pine, whiskey, and the sudden, sharp musk of a male wolf. Enzo let out a low, guttural sound—half-growl, half-groan.

​Slowly—too slowly—he turned around.

​And he froze.

​His green eyes locked onto me, scanning my naked body. I saw the exact moment his breathing changed. I saw the exact moment his body betrayed him. His gaze dragged over me hungrily, tracing my legs, my hips, and my breasts.

​The cold, brotherly mask he had hidden behind for years didn't just crack—it completely shattered.

​"Rebecca..." he said hoarsely. That one word sent a rush of heat through my entire body.

"Do I still look like a child to you, Enzo?” I took another step, closing the gap until I could feel the heat radiating off his chest. I reached out, my small hand pressing against his heart. It was thundering against his ribs, wild and out of control.

​He didn't pull away from my touch, but he didn't soften either.

​"You think a body makes you a woman, Rebecca?" he spat, his voice dripping with annoyance. "You’re still just a child to me. An unripened fruit. Beautiful to look at, maybe, but sour to the taste. There is nothing here for me to crave."

​The words sliced through me, but before I could respond, the door to his suite swung open.

​I gasped, freezing in my nakedness, expecting a guard or my father. But it was Sasha. She strolled in as if she had been summoned by his very thoughts. She didn't even blink at the sight of me standing there exposed; she looked at me like I was a piece of unwanted furniture.

​"Enzo," she purred, her voice low and husky. "I heard the news. You’re getting married tomorrow." She stepped closer, ignoring my presence entirely. "So, what do you say? Do we fuck one last time for old times' sake?"

​My heart raced. He won’t, I told myself. He can't.

​But Enzo’s hand dropped from my waist. The heat I had felt from him vanished, replaced by a cold, terrifying void. He didn’t look at me as he turned toward Sasha. A dark, wicked smirk played on his lips—the kind of look he had never, ever given me.

​"One last time," he echoed.

​The air left my lungs as he grabbed Sasha, pulling her into a bruising, tongue-deep kiss right in front of me. I stood there, paralyzed by a level of embarrassment so deep it felt like acid in my veins. He wasn't hiding it. He wanted me to watch.

​Sasha moaned into his mouth, her hands frantically tearing at his shirt. In a blurred motion, her clothes were on the floor. Her body was curvy, her ass huge and defined, making me feel small and invisible.

​"The desk, Enzo," she gasped.

​Enzo didn't hesitate. He grabbed her by the waist and bent her over the heavy oak desk—the same desk where I was standing, only inches away.

​I stood numb, my own nakedness feeling like a shroud of shame. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I watched, horrified and mesmerized, as Enzo reached for his belt. He unzipped his pants, and then he took out his cock.

​He didn't look at me. He spat a bit of saliva into his palm, rubbing the saliva over his cock with a slow, deliberate stroke before positioning himself at Sasha’s entrance.

​"Watch, Rebecca," Sasha smirked, her face pressed against the wood, her eyes finding mine with a look of pure triumph. "Watch how a real woman takes a man."