The Trophy

Two weeks later, the girl in the mirror was almost unrecognizable.

The hollow cheeks were filling out, giving my face a softness I hadn't seen since I was a child. The dark circles under my eyes had vanished, replaced by a healthy, porcelain glow. But the biggest change was the eyes themselves. They were no longer a muddy, bruised gray. They were a striking, vivid violet, bright enough to startle me every time I brushed my teeth.

Rapid regeneration, Dr. Evans called it. He said that my body was overcompensating with the absence of the poison that malnourished it. My hair, which was brittle and dry, now fell in thick, shiny waves of hair.

I'm not just healing, but I'm growing.

I tapped the last key on my report at my desk in my new office, a small but sleek little room off the main library.

"Done," I whispered to the empty room.

Finished with the audit of the security payroll. I found three "ghost guards" on the list: names that don't exist, yet they got paid. Another ten grand a month saved for Dante.

6:00 PM.

Naturally, the door opened without a knock.

This time I jumped back. I was getting used to the way Dante moved—silent, commanding, assuming every door would open for him.

"Still working," he said, standing at the door with a garment bag in one hand.

I spun my chair. "Discovered ghost employees in security. Someone in HR is pocketing the cash."

Dante nodded, as if he expected nothing less and surveyed me before letting his eyes linger on my face. For an instant, something heated flickered in his golden gaze—possessiveness? hunger?—but instantly he crushed it behind his wall of ice.

"Good work," he said. "Names to my head of security. Then shower; we leave in an hour."

"Leaving?" I asked as I rose to my feet. "Where are we going?"

"The Alpha Summit Gala," Dante replied as he hung the garment bag on the coat rack. "It's a quarterly gathering of the regional Alphas and business leaders. I need to make an appearance."

Suddenly, I frowned. "And you need me... to carry your briefcase?"

"No," Dante said as though getting closer, his thumb brushing my cheek. The contact sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core, making my breath hitch. He felt it too—his pupils dilated—but he pulled his hand back.

"I need you to be seen," he said, lowering his voice an octave. "Rumors are circulating. People are saying I paid fifty million for a broken Omega. They say I'm weak, that I made a bad deal."

He gestured at the garment bag.

"Tonight, you will prove them wrong. You will stand by my side, you will look beautiful, and you will show every Alpha in that room that King Dante does not make mistakes."

Again, it was a transaction. I wasn't a date; I was a trophy. I was a stock he wanted to show off to the shareholders.

"Fine," I said, masking my disappointment with a professional nod. "I'll get ready."

That dress was such a piece of art.

It was floor-length made from silky midnight blue, and it shimmered at my every move like moving water. It left almost everything but stretched back, cut a daring yet elegant plunging neckline down, and fit me perfectly, hugging my newly acquired curves tightly so that it made my skin look as alabaster.

A team of stylists came and went, pinning my hair up into a complicated twist and placing makeup that highlighted my violet eyes.

As I stepped out of the elevator, Dante was there, waiting.

He had on a tuxedo that fitted his massive frame like a second skin. Lethal and devastately handsome he was. He was busy with his cufflinks but looked up when he heard my footsteps.

His hands stilled.

For an extended period of time, he only stared. His eyes trekked from shoes to hair devouring every inch of me. Between us crackled the air.

"Well?" I asked, feeling self-conscious under his intense stare. "Do I look like a fifty-million-dollar investment?"

Dante cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away to check his watch.

"Adequate," he muttered. But I saw the way his hand clenched at his side. "Let's go. We're late."

He offered me his arm. I took it reluctantly. His muscles were hard as rock beneath the expensive fabric.

The silence during the trip to the city was heavy with unspoken tension. Somehow, each time the car made a turn, our legs brushed against one another, and the air grew thicker.

We arrived at the Grand Hotel, where the Gala was being held. Paparazzi cameras flashed as the valet opened the door.

"Stay close," Dante murmured, pulling me out of the car, "and don't talk unless spoken to. These people are vultures."

And then into the ballroom, where the chatter dropped to a minimum.

Hundreds of heads clicked in our direction. I could smell a mix of perfume, champagne, and the underlying musk from wolves.

Dante walked me through the crowd slightly possessive, as any Alpha King would, and his hand brushed comfortably on the small of my back, his thumb rubbing circles against my skin through the silk fabric.

"King Dante," purred a voice from amongst the crowd.

The bantering voice cleared a way through the crowd.

A woman stepped forward.

She was striking. Leggy, cascades of blond hair, and a red dress that left very little to the imagination. She carried herself like a confidence-purring predator. The scent that assailed me was roses mixed with disappearing notes of something metallic, something like blood.

Dante's voice dipped by ten degrees as he considered the lady. "Vanessa."

There was a lot more invading of Dante's personal space from the lady. Ignoring my presence completely, she said, "We heard you were coming. Missing you at the last council meeting was the highlight of our show. The Elders really were asking about you."

Dante waved away her concern. "The Elders can wait."

The smile that raised the corners of Vanessa's mouth was slow and cat-like-predatory in its intent. Her hand reached up to Dante's chest, right over his heart. It was a familiar kind of move.

"You have been busy hiding yourself in that castle," she murmured.

Finally, her blue eyes flicked over to me. The smile did not leave her lips, but her eyes turned cold.

"And this must be the... purchase."

She scanned me from head to toe, not even pretending like she was trying to hide her disgust.

Vanessa laughed lightly, "She's smaller than I expected. Are you sure she's healthy, Dante? She looks like a stiff breeze would snap her in half."

Keeping hold of my waist, he leaned slightly towards Vanessa as he assured her, "Maya is perfectly fine, and she is none of your concern."

Vanessa leaned in some more, "But she is Dante. You know the rules. A King needs a Queen. A strong Queen. Not a... pet."

With that, she turned toward me, extending a lovely manicured hand in my direction.

"I'm Vanessa, Dante's former fiancée. And the daughter of High Elder Thorne."

The name hit me like a punch. Thorne. The head of the Council.

I looked at her hand. I knew what she wanted: her to bow. She wanted me to show that she was a higher-ranking female, deserving of a submission.

If I submitted, I would embarrass Dante. If I fought, I would cause a scene.

I took her hand. But instead of bowing, I squeezed. Hard.

"Maya," I replied, my voice steady. "Dante's Auditor."

Vanessa blinked, surprised by my grip. "Auditor? You do his taxes?"

I drawled, "I manage his assets and uncover liabilities. It's a full-time job. There are just so many people trying to take what doesn't belong to them."

I kept my gaze on hers. The double meaning hung in the air. You are the liability. And Dante doesn't belong to you.

Vanessa's eyes flashed orange, and she regarded me dangerously. She hadn't expected the "pet" to bite back.

Dante let out a rich rumbling chuckle. It rolled through my chest.

"She has you there, Vanessa" Dante drawled, pulling me close against him. "Maya has a talent for spotting fakes."

Vanessa's smile turned brittle. Rage sparked in her eyes.

"Enjoy your evening, Dante," she spat. "But remember, pets are known to run away when not on a leash."

With that command, she pivoted on her heels and weaved into the crowd.

Dante's jaw was slowly tightening as he watched her leave.

"You provoked her," he whispered to me.

"She insulted me," I countered, "and along with me, she insulted your judgment."

Almost for the first time, the icy facade slipped. His eyes were seething with what surely resembled pride, causing an intense warmth to stir within me.

"Oh, you are dangerous, Maya," he whispered.

"Is that a complaint?" I challenged.

"No," Dante said, fingers edging their way up to the nape of my neck, his thumb brushing across my pulse point. "It's a relief."

He drew nearer, lips brushing against my ear.

"Let's go. I've had enough of this. And I am suddenly very hungry."

He was certainly not talking about food.

My heart raced. The Gala was over. But the real danger—the blaze burning between the King and me—was just being ignited.