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~Sienna

“First, Elora Daniels,” I announce, striding back and forth.

Onyx lets out a pained groan, tipping his head back.

“Sienna…”

“She lives on the Western edge of the Pack. Her father owns a vast amount of land on which he harbours numerous successful orchards.” I tilt my head to the side. “Impressive.”

Onyx shakes his head, shifting in his seat. He's been condemned to the chair in front of the fire, forced to listen to me read from four individual profiles that detail who his future wife may be.

Alpha's need to marry. It's tradition, and Onyx is failing on that front.

“I’m not interested," he mutters, his obsidian gaze tracking me as I pace in front of him.

My finger trails along the page as I read further down, grimacing at the description. “These are so detailed. Creepy.”

“Then stop looking at them.”

“Elora is apparently of medium height.” I huff out a breath. "Angel's-forbid they be specific...Has brown hair and brown, almost black eyes.”

I glance up from the page as Onyx rubs his hand over his own eyes.

Having him sitting here, at my whim will never not be exhilarating. There's so much power in this room, and it all belongs to him. Yet, I have a glorious amount of control over it.

It's the benefit of being the Alpha's best friend. Well, only friend.

“Is all this supposed to mean something to me?” He raises a dark brow until it disappears beneath the length of his ruffled black hair. It's as dark as his name denounces.

“She has a slight limp though…” I rub my chin.

His eyes flare wider. “They added that?”

I smother my laugh behind my hand. He takes everything too seriously.

“No, but whoever wrote this took liberties describing her. Apparently she has excellent posture.” I straighten my own, knowing it probably needs some work.

His mother is trying to cater for his selectiveness, it seems. He insists he isn't picky, he is just not interested in marrying right now.

His gaze tracks my movements as I continue to pace. “This is disturbing, Sienna."

“Most importantly, she has status amongst her peers, is softly spoken and polite," I tell him. Some people find value in such traits, although the way Onyx's face immediately screws up suggests he is not one of them.

“None of that is appealing.”

I lower the page, exasperated. “It’s not her fault she’s been bred to be married off to a wealthy, powerful man like you.”

Onyx and I have spent much of our childhoods chastising the customs and traditions that govern his life, and many others of noble birth.

We also spent an equal amount of time not being able to do anything about it.

It's easy for me. I'm no one. My mother came here nine years ago with me in tow, no money to her name, wanting work. Onyx's mother kindly offered her a position as her assistant.

When my mother died, I took over the job.

“This girl doesn’t have to worry about marrying me."

I shoot a faux pout in his direction. “But it says here that she has ample birthing hips.”

His shakes his head, like he doesn't believe me. “Stop joking around.”

“No seriously." I turn the forms around, pointing to where on the page it is printed. “Whoever wrote this has detailed how likely it is she will provide heirs.”

Onyx stretches his long legs out in front of him, massaging his temples.

“This is torture.”

“Fine, next then." I tuck Elora's form to the bottom before examining the next one. “Lexa Vale.”

“Stop, Sienna. I’m serious.” Onyx's tone is firm enough that I actually oblige him. I know when to push him, and when to back off.

It's why our friendship works so well.

“Your mother asked me to show these to you," I remind him, dropping my arms, although I still clutch the papers. He's going to have to give these the time of day eventually.

Even if he is looking at them like he's contemplating how quickly they will burn up the moment they touch the flames in the fireplace behind him.

“I don’t want to marry any of these women," he says again. "This entire process is artificial."

I take a step toward him. “You’re not interested in anyone. Anyone. It’s been two years since you became Alpha. Tradition mandates that you marry within one year.”

He rolls his eyes.

I could strangle him sometimes, until I remind myself of how miserable it must be to be faced with a union not built on love, but on power.

He hasn't confided in me that he's struggling with that aspect in particular. He doesn't need to. I can tell by how worn down he looks every time it is brought up.

Right now he looks practically ruined as he slumps in his chair, although still can't escape looking like the perfect Alpha.

Over the years, many Alpha's have come and gone through this manor. None of which, in my opinion, compare to Onyx.

His towering height assists with the intimidation factor. That and the fact that he's extremely well-built, with muscles that are unmistakable, even when he is wearing his baggiest clothing.

But it goes further than that...It's his intensity, the quiet threat of danger that even I feel on occasion.

I can't imagine what it feels like to be someone he actually wants dead.

What is most important for me to remember is that I can value him as an Alpha, but Onyx is off limits. Non-negotiable.

There have been more moments than not where I've admired Onyx beyond what makes him a good friend. He's deliriously attractive, and even I'm not immune to it. He exudes raw sex appeal, and has an intensity that would be impossible to escape if he ever became interested in me sexually.

He has never, not once, made an advance on me. We are strictly friends.

I think I've always been in love with him, but I've never considered him sexually until these recent years. Since he became Alpha, he's become jaded, harder to reach, yet simultaneously more fuckable.

What's wrong with me?

I know he doesn't see me that way. It feels wrong to fantasise sometimes, especially when our friendship means so much to me.

I'm assuming my attraction to him is based on nothing more than the fact that I can't have him. He's to be married, and not to someone like me.

“I’m choosing my wife, not my next meal,” he exclaims pointedly. “If I decide on anyone, it won’t be based on some arbitrary profile flaunting their supposed merits.”

I sigh, stepping close enough to flick his nose. He bats my hand away.

“How else will you meet your wife? You turn your nose up at any woman that isn’t me." I raise my brows, folding my arms over my chest.

He narrows his eyes slightly. “Mmm.”

“Then again, I doubt you see me as much of a woman," I joke, giving him a half smile.

When we were much younger, he would joke that he could never see me as a real girl. To him, I was just his friend, not someone capable of being anything resembling sexual.

He doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me.

I surge on, ignoring the heat in his gaze. “You must marry a woman of noble birth. Or she must be so wealthy, or of such high status she will be accepted as Luna.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Or she should be my mate.”

“Such a finding only comes from actually getting to know someone," I remind him, giving him a saccharine smile that he only shakes his head at.

Generally, the mate bond doesn't settle into place until around the age of eighteen. It can be delayed longer, and is different for everyone. We have both surpassed that, and although there is a chance of a mate bond becoming established between us, I've since given up such a dream.

And admittedly, I have dreamed about it.

He holds his hand out. “Here, give me the papers.”

“No.” I press them against my chest.

“Oh, so suddenly I can’t look for my future wife?”

“You’re just going to toss them into the fire!” I prop my hands on my hips, glaring at him.

He dips his head back, groaning. “Great, so now I can’t find a wife, and I’m predictable?”

I tuck the forms behind my back, stepping away so I'm not within his reach. He's so tall it would only take a single step for him to reach me, and with his strength, there would be no keeping them from him.

Too bad I outsmart him on every occasion. Well, I like to think I do.

“It’s that shining personality of yours that will win a woman’s heart.” I flutter my eyes, like he’s irresistible.

He is, I suppose. To most people. Despite the aura of death that shrouds him, he still has hoards of adoring admirers who leave countless letters with staff in hopes he notices them.

I’ve read some. To this day I carry scars from the raunchy ones.

He gives me a flat look. “Ha ha.”

I examine the form again, clearing my throat. “Like I said, Lexa Vale. On the shorter side, with black hair and green eyes. Nothing about birthing hips though.”

“Sienna,” he says softly.

I pause, looking up at him. It still shocks me that he can be so gentle, even when he’s chastising me. It’s at odds with how everyone perceives him.

“Onyx,” I challenge.

“I’ll look at them tomorrow. Okay?”

I sigh, but nod. It’s late, and he’s clearly exasperated.

“Alright.” I dump the forms on his desk, falling into the other chair.

I study him quietly as he stands, ruffling a hand through his slightly wavy hair. He’s only a couple inches shy of having to bend his head to stand straight in here.

He’s burdened with something. It can’t be this, because he’s made greater sacrifices for his Pack than marrying. But I never push him on his feelings, I just let him come to me first.

“Sometimes I forget the whole world is terrified of you,” I breathe.

“They aren’t terrified. They are misinformed.” He chucks another log on the fire, watching the sparks that spit up from the embers.

Not about his grouchiness, I think to myself.

“Are they though?”

He glances back at me. “You tell me.”

“You’re prickly with even the most important people who walk through the manor doors. You’ve beaten people within an inch of their life on a stage in front of your people-“

“They deserved it,” he cuts in.

A huff out a breath. I’m inclined to agree that there is more to him than people see, but no one can be blamed for finding him to be a cold, calculated leader.

“You’ve even killed before,” I say quietly.

He just stares into the fire, flexing his fingers. “Like I said, they deserved it.”

The glow from the fire has tinted his skin and hair in rich, vibrant shades of red and orange. The light flickers across the strong lines of the jaw to the softness of his mouth, making him look more menacing than usual.

I blink, forcing my gaze to my hands.

“You scare people, which is why I hardly have friends and am still a virgin,” I note.

He sweeps his scorching hot gaze back at me, like it picked up some heat from staring into the fire. “I have nothing to do with your virginity.”

I narrow my eyes upon him. Nothing? He acts as though his mere presence isn't enough to scare off even the bravest men.

“Someone once bumped into me at a public event and you struck him round the head so hard he probably has never recovered," I remind him coolly, folding my arms over my chest.

He rubs his jaw, pretending to think. “I don’t remember that.”

Yes he does.

“A man once stepped in a muddy puddle, splashing a bit onto my hem and you had him on his knees, begging for mercy," I add.

“Hmm.”

“And don’t forget the time I tripped over and scuffed my knee. When you found out it was because the gardener didn’t properly clean up his tools and left them in the garden path, you fired him and told him he was lucky you didn’t follow him home and burn his house down while he slept." I shift over to his large bed, sitting on the edge. "I doubt that poor man has had a good night's sleep since."

Onyx shrugs. “So?”

I shake my head in disbelief. Onyx is morally grey at best. Some days he's rigidly strict with how people act, scolding staff who mistreat each other, keeping the laws tight so no one gets harmed. Other days he's hunting down assassins, conspirators and downright criminals for sport.

“So, men are probably too scared to come close enough to me to risk fucking up and getting in trouble with you," I say, trying to get him to piece it together.

He takes a few steps toward me, hands seated in his pockets which seems too casual for how he's speaking right now.

“If someone hurts you, Sienna, I will chain them up in the centre of the Pack and bleed them out until every last person vows to never bring you harm.” There is nothing but uncompromising will in his eyes.

He's not saying that for no reason. He means it.

“You’re so dramatic." I roll my eyes, knowing he's not going to be doing anything to anyone if I'm involved. "Although you are my best friend, you are terrifying.”

“I want to protect you.” His voice softens.

I gesture at the forms splayed out across the desk. “Find a wife, protect her, and let me move on with my life.”

He steps forward, ruffling my hair. “Too bad. I’m going to keep pestering you.”

I push him off, muttering under my breath. I hate when he does that. It makes me feel like we are fifteen again and he is making fun of my persistent skin problem.

Lucky for him it's mostly cleared up, otherwise he would have lost a hand by now.

“Now, are you done doing my mothers dirty work, or are you going to sit and lose this game of cards.” He picks up the stack from his bedside table, flicking through the cards with his thumb.

He's distracting me, but I'll take the bait.

I slide off the bed and onto the floor, sitting cross-legged, waiting for him to join me. “As if I’m losing to the likes of you.”