The Alpha Claim

The darkness didn't last long, but the fog it left behind was thick and suffocating. When Giovanni’s eyes finally flickered open, the ceiling was spinning. Her body felt heavy, her skin humming with a strange, frantic heat that made the silk sheets feel like sandpaper against her thighs.

"She’s coming around."

The voice was cold, clinical. Yvette.

Giovanni tried to sit up, but her limbs felt like lead. "What... what did you do to me?"

"I gave you what the Alpha paid for," Yvette replied, stepping into her line of sight. She was adjusting a blood pressure cuff on Giovanni’s arm. "That injection wasn't just a vitamin boost, Giovanni. It’s a hormone catalyst. It’s designed to force your body into a receptive state. Your wolf should be screaming for a mate right about now."

Giovanni’s heart hammered. It was true. Deep in her chest, her inner wolf was pacing, agitated, her senses heightened to a painful degree. Every scent in the room—the lavender polish, the metallic tang of the medical kit, Yvette’s sharp, beta scent—was overwhelming.

"I feel... sick," Giovanni whispered, her hand moving to her stomach.

"That’s the 'heat' hitting your system," Yvette said, packing her bag. "It’s artificial, so it’s going to be twice as intense. Try to stay hydrated. The Alpha will be back shortly to check on you."

The door clicked shut, leaving Giovanni alone in the vast, silent room. She rolled onto her side, clutching a pillow, trying to breathe through the waves of heat rolling over her. She felt dirty. Not just because of the drugs, but because of the way they were treating her—like a prize mare being prepped for the stud.

The heavy oak doors creaked open.

The scent hit her before he did. Forest floor, expensive tobacco, and that dark, spicy musk that belonged only to Russell. Her wolf let out a low, involuntary whine of submission.

Russell walked in, his suit jacket discarded, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked tired, but his Alpha aura was so potent it made the air vibrate. He didn't say a word. He walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at her.

"How do you feel?" he asked. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated right through her skin.

"Why are you doing this to me, Russell?" she choked out, her eyes watering. "Why the drugs? Why the locks? I’m your wife. I’m your Luna."

Russell’s eyes darkened, a flash of molten gold swirling in the grey. He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He reached out, his large hand cupping her face. His skin was burning hot, or maybe it was just her reaction to him.

"You’re my vessel," he corrected, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Being a Luna is a title of power, Giovanni. You haven't earned that. Right now, your only job is to survive the night."

"I hate you," she whispered, even as her body betrayed her, leaning into his touch.

He moved his hand from her face to her neck, his fingers brushing against the mark he had left earlier. Giovanni let out a soft gasp, her back arching instinctively. The "artificial heat" was screaming now, demanding the Alpha’s touch.

"Please," she breathed, not even knowing what she was asking for.

Russell’s expression didn't soften. He looked at her with a terrifying, predatory hunger, but his heart stayed behind a wall of ice. He leaned down, his lips hovering just an inch from hers.

"You want me to touch you?" he asked, his voice a lethal caress.

"I... I can't think straight," she confessed, her hands trembling as they reached up to touch his chest. His heart was steady, a slow, powerful thrum against her palms. "Everything is so hot."

"That’s the wolf in you, little one. She knows who her master is."

He didn't kiss her. Instead, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, his eyes locking onto hers. The dominance in his gaze was absolute. He was a billionaire in the boardroom, but here, in the dim light of the bedroom, he was all wolf.

"Do you know what happens to Omegas who can't provide a strong heir, Giovanni?"

She shook her head, her breath coming in shallow pants.

"They get sent to the fringe packs," he whispered. "To the mines. To the breeders who don't care if they survive the birth. If you want to stay in this palace, if you want to wear that lace and eat at my table, you will give me a son that carries my Alpha gene."

"Is that all I am to you?" she cried, a tear finally escaping and rolling into her hair. "A machine? A way to keep your brother from the throne?"

Russell paused. He looked at the tear, his jaw tightening. For a split second, the ice in his eyes cracked, and she saw a flash of something else—something raw and tortured. But just as quickly, it was gone.

"You are mine," he growled, his head dropping to the crook of her neck. He inhaled sharply, scenting her, marking her with his smell. "And tonight, we make sure the world knows it."

He released her wrists, but before she could move, he pulled her flush against him. The friction of his clothes against her sensitized skin made her cry out. He wrapped a hand in her hair, pulling her head back so she had to look at him.

"I’m going to make you forget your own name," he promised, his voice dark and jagged.

He leaned in, his mouth finally crashing onto hers. It wasn't a soft, romantic kiss. It was a battle. He tasted of power and rain, his tongue sweeping through her mouth as if he were trying to claim her soul. Giovanni wrapped her arms around his neck, her wolf howling in a mixture of agony and ecstasy.

The chemistry was undeniable, a physical pull that ignored the cruelty of their situation. For a moment, Giovanni forgot the needles. She forgot the contract. She forgot the "vessel" talk. She just wanted him.

Russell pulled back, his eyes glowing bright gold now, his breathing heavy. He stood up, but he didn't leave. He started unbuckling his belt, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Get on your knees, Giovanni," he commanded, his voice vibrating with Alpha authority.

The sheer power of the command hit her like a physical blow. Her body moved before her mind could protest, her knees hitting the plush carpet at his feet. She looked up at him, her heart in her throat, her wedding dress torn and hanging off one shoulder.

Russell reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, silver collar. It wasn't a piece of jewelry. It was etched with ancient runes—suppression runes.

"What is that?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Insurance," Russell said, his voice cold as the grave again. "To make sure you don't shift and ruin the process."

He stepped closer, the silver cold against her throat.

"Wait," she gasped, her hands moving to stop him. "Russell, please, not a collar. Anything but that."

He didn't listen. He clicked the lock, the heavy metal snapping into place.

Suddenly, the front gate alarm began to blare throughout the mansion. A red light flashed in the hallway.

Russell’s head snapped toward the door, a feral snarl ripping from his chest. "Declan! Status!"

The intercom on the wall crackled to life. "Alpha! It’s Xavier! He’s at the gate with a Council! They’re claiming the marriage hasn't been consummated and they're here to take her for testing!"

Russell looked down at Giovanni, his eyes full of a murderous rage. He grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look up at him.

"You have ten seconds to decide, Giovanni," he hissed, the silver collar glowing faintly against her skin. "Do you go with them and face the Council’s 'tests,' or do you show them exactly who you belong to?"