The Alpha Prince's Forbidden Scent

(Elara's POV)

The silk of my dress felt like a cage against my skin, the deep emerald fabric a stark contrast to the muted grays in my soul. I stood before the full-length mirror, my reflection a stranger staring back with haunted eyes. The gentle curve of my four-month-pregnant belly was a betrayal, a mocking reminder of the hope I’d dared to harbor, hope now buried beneath layers of disappointment and pain.

“Elara, are you even listening?” His voice, sharp and cold as chipped ice, sliced through the silence of the bedroom. I turned, forcing a neutral expression onto my face as I faced him. Damon, my husband— my Alpha— stood by the door, his tall frame radiating an effortless power that always made him the center of any room. His midnight-black hair was perfectly styled, his jaw set with an impatience that was becoming all too familiar. His eyes, a striking shade of brown, swept over me with thinly disguised disdain.

"Of course," I replied, my voice, a practiced calm. “I was just adjusting the dress.”

He snorted, the sound abrasive as nails on a chalkboard. "Don't waste time on such trivial things, Elara. There are more important matters at hand. Tonight is crucial. My family is gathering for the first time since the spring solstice. I need you to remember your place.”

My heart squeezed, the same tired ache that had taken up residence since the week we’d been forced to call each other husband and wife. I'd been a member of his pack for so long that I could remember running around the halls when I was a little girl, but I was never one of them. They were wolves, and I was just... me. An omega.

He continued, outlining the rules and expectations as if reciting a script. “You will greet my family with a smile, but not a wide one. Don’t speak until spoken to. Don't draw attention to yourself. Try not to look too weak and pathetic. And for the love of the Moon Goddess, don't touch me unnecessarily. Understood?"

“Understood, Alpha,” I murmured, my gaze fixed on the embroidered pattern of the dress. It was a beautiful thing but I couldn’t quite feel the beauty. I knew the drill by heart. I was supposed to be seen and not heard, an ornamental piece in his life, fulfilling a promise made by his grandmother, a woman who had loved me as her own. A woman he’d never forgive me for being loved by.

He straightened his jacket, the movement sharp and precise. “Good. Now come. We can’t be late. And Elara…” He paused at the doorway, his eyes narrowing. “Try not to embarrass me tonight, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The threat was subtle, laced with the chilling promise of future pain. I swallowed hard, pushing back the wave of nausea that threatened to engulf me. Was this what love was supposed to feel like? This constant gnawing dread? This overwhelming loneliness?

I followed him out into the hallway, my footsteps light as a falling feather while he walked ahead of me.

When I reached the downstairs hall, I heard a low murmur coming from the direction of the restroom. Damon had veered off to the left, and I had assumed he'd gone to wait for me by the front door. I had started walking toward it, but I just couldn't help the curiosity that made my feet turn to the restroom door.

My heart pounded, a frantic drum against my ribs as I edged closer. His voice, a husky drawl that was usually aimed at me with such cold cruelty, was now soft and seductive.

“...you're far more interesting than that dull omega of mine.” He was saying, his voice thick with something that wasn’t in the tone he uses when speaking with me. “She’s only good for producing an heir – if she even manages to carry that one to term. Honestly, they’re all so weak. She's like a shadow. Pathetic.”

A woman’s laugh, high and flirtatious, echoed before his words took over again. They were interrupted by the sounds of kissing and heavy breathing. It only confirmed what I already knew. He despised me. My husband, my alpha, despised the very essence of who I was.

I stumbled back, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a sob. He despised me. He spoke of me as if I were an inconvenience, a tool to be used and discarded. Each word was a blow, each syllable a stab to my already wounded heart. I pressed a hand to my belly, fear coiling in my stomach. He had a pack who loved him and I had no one. It was just me and this child now, and what would we do?

The sounds from inside the restroom became more explicit, the soft moans and the rustling of clothing painting a vivid picture that seared itself onto my brain. Tears stung my eyes, blurring the already distorted world around me. I wanted to run, to hide, to disappear into nothingness, but my feet seemed rooted to the spot.

As quickly as it had started, the sounds ceased. The door creaked open. I quickly scrambled behind a large pillar, heart racing, and peered out cautiously. Damon stepped out of the restroom, his expression smug. His hair was slightly dishevelled and his lips looked swollen. He adjusted his shirt and turned, catching a glimpse of movement before I could hide myself properly. His silver eyes narrowed, zeroing on my place behind the pillar.

“Elara?” he called out, his voice laced with a dangerous sort of calm. What was I expecting? I carry his mark and he can sense my presence through my scent which has become more intense since I got pregnant.

Panic clenched my chest and I couldn't breathe. I had been caught. And in that moment, standing behind the cold, unyielding pillar, I knew tonight isn't going to be very pleasant.