CHAPTER 4

Aria's POV

I spent the day trying not to think about what would happen that night.

Elena brought me breakfast, lunch, and insisted I try on some of the clothes in the closet. They were all beautiful, expensive, and felt like costumes for a role I didn't want to play.

"The blue brings out your eyes," Elena said, holding up a silk dress.

"Does it matter what I wear when he—" I couldn't finish the sentence.

Elena's face softened. "Oh, dear one."

The pity in her eyes almost broke me. I'd held it together so far, but kindness was harder to bear than coldness.

"I need some air," I said quickly, before the tears could fall.

"The gardens are beautiful this time of day. Through the main hall, turn left, French doors at the end."

I practically ran from the room, needing space, needing to breathe. The gardens were indeed beautiful—rose bushes, fruit trees, winding stone paths. But even paradise felt like a prison when you couldn't leave.

I found a bench hidden behind a wall of jasmine and finally let myself cry. Silent tears for the life I'd never have, for the mate who didn't want me, for the baby I'd have to give up.

"Miss Bennett?"

I looked up to find Marcus standing a respectful distance away, holding out a handkerchief.

"Thank you," I whispered, taking it.

He sat on the opposite end of the bench, careful to maintain distance. "I know this is hard."

"Do you? Have you been sold to breed heirs for someone who sees you as property?"

"No," he admitted. "But I've known Damon—the Alpha King—since we were boys. This isn't who he really is."

"Then who is he?"

Marcus sighed. "A man who was taught from age ten that love was weakness. His mother... she did terrible things. Told him he was cursed, that he'd destroy anyone who loved him. She died when he was eighteen, but the damage was done."

"That's sad, but it doesn't give him the right to buy people."

"No, it doesn't." Marcus stood. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. You deserve better than this."

After he left, I stayed in the garden until the sun began to set. I couldn't avoid what was coming, but I could steal these last moments of solitude.

When I returned to my room, Elena had laid out a white silk nightgown on the bed. The symbolism wasn't lost on me—white for innocence about to be taken.

"Should I stay with you?" Elena offered. "Until he arrives?"

"No." I needed to face this alone. "But thank you."

She squeezed my hand. "If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me."

After she left, I showered, letting hot water wash away the day's tears. I put on the nightgown, brushed my hair until it shone, and then sat on the edge of the bed to wait.

My wolf was restless, excited even. She didn't understand why I was upset. Our mate was coming to us. We would be together. What could be wrong with that?

Everything, I told her. Everything is wrong with this.

The knock came at exactly eight o'clock.

"Come in," I managed.

Damon entered, and my traitorous body responded immediately. He'd changed from his business suit into dark jeans and a black sweater that emphasized his broad shoulders. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered too.

He stopped just inside the door, grey eyes taking in my appearance. Something flickered across his face—heat, maybe, or hunger—before the cold mask returned.

"Are you ready?" His voice was deeper than usual.

"Does it matter?"

He moved closer, and his scent washed over me. Pine and winter frost and mate, mate, mate. My wolf practically purred.

"It matters," he said quietly. "I won't force you. If you say no, I'll leave."

"And then what? You'll send me back? Keep me here indefinitely?"

"I don't know," he admitted, and it was the first honest thing I'd heard from him.

He sat on the bed, maintaining distance between us. "I know you hate this. Hate me. But I promise I'll make it as... easy as possible."

"Easy." I laughed, but it came out broken. "You're about to take my innocence as part of a business transaction. Nothing about this is easy."

"Then tell me how to make it better."

The question surprised me. I looked at him, really looked. Behind the cold exterior, I saw something else. Uncertainty, maybe. Or guilt.

"You can't," I whispered. "Unless you can make this mean something. Unless you can make it more than just breeding."

He was quiet for a long moment. "I can't give you love."

"I know." My wolf howled in grief. "You don't even know me."

"Then tell me something. Anything."

I blinked at the unexpected request. "Why?"

"Because you're right. I don't know you. And you're about to give me something precious, even if it's part of our arrangement. So tell me something true."

"My mother used to sing to me when I couldn't sleep," I found myself saying. "Old lullabies from her pack. She had the most beautiful voice. After she died, I'd hum them to myself, but it wasn't the same."

"What happened to her?"

"Cancer. It took her slowly, painfully. Victor wouldn't pay for proper treatment. Said it was too expensive for a dying woman."

Anger flashed in his eyes. "He let your mother suffer?"

"He let her die. There's a difference." I pulled my knees to my chest. "Your turn. Tell me something true."

He hesitated. "I haven't slept properly in ten years."

"Why?"

"Nightmares. Memories. The usual Alpha King burdens."

"That's not really true, is it? That's what you tell people."

He looked at me sharply. "What makes you say that?"

"Because I recognize deflection. The real reason?"

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. Then: "My wolf. He's been restless for years. Like he's searching for something that doesn't exist."

Oh, the irony. His wolf was searching for me.

"Maybe it does exist," I said carefully. "Maybe you just haven't found it yet."

"It doesn't matter. The curse—" He stopped himself.

"Curse?"

"Nothing. Old superstitions." He stood abruptly. "This was a mistake. You're not ready."

Panic flared. Not because I wanted this to happen, but because rejection from one's mate, even unknowing rejection, physically hurt.

"Wait." I caught his hand, and electricity shot through me at the contact.

He froze, staring at where our hands touched. "What was that?"

"Static?" I lied, pulling my hand back.

But he was looking at me differently now, like a puzzle he couldn't solve.

"Tomorrow," he said roughly. "We'll try tomorrow."

He left quickly, and I collapsed on the bed, my whole body shaking. My wolf was crying, confused by our mate's departure.

I'd thought tonight would be the worst night of my life. But somehow, him leaving felt worse.

Because despite everything, despite the circumstances and the contract and the cold transaction of it all, my stupid heart wanted him to stay.

I pressed my face into the pillow that smelled like him and cried until sleep finally took me.

Tomorrow, he'd try again.

And I'd have to be stronger.

Strong enough to let him touch me without revealing the truth. Strong enough to carry his child without confessing my love.

Strong enough to eventually leave when my time was up, even if it killed me.