THE RIVAL

The sun didn't stream through the window to wake me up. It couldn't. The small, high window in the bedroom was barred with iron grates, letting in only a dusty, gray square of light.

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‎I woke up stiff, my neck cricked from the thin pillow on the cot. My emerald dress, ruined by mud and sleep, felt tight and itchy against my skin.

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‎I sat up, groaning. My stomach gave a loud, hollow growl. I hadn't eaten since the engagement party—which felt like a lifetime ago. My throat was parched, dry as sandpaper.

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‎I looked at the heavy wooden door. It was still closed.

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‎"Kaelen?" I called out, my voice raspy. "I need water."

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‎Silence.

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‎I swung my legs off the cot and walked to the door, pressing my ear against the wood. I couldn't hear the fire crackling or the sound of footsteps. Was he gone? Had he left me locked in here to rot?

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‎I raised my fist to pound on the wood, but before I could make contact, the lock clicked.

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‎Clack. Clack. Clack.

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‎The door swung open.

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‎I stepped back, expecting the massive frame of the Butcher.

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‎Instead, a woman stood in the doorway.

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‎She was terrifying in a completely different way than Kaelen. She was tall, nearly six feet, with skin the color of polished mahogany and hair braided into intricate, tight cornrows that were pulled back into a severe ponytail. Her arms were bare, revealing muscles that coiled like pythons under her skin. She wore leather breeches and a tank top stained with grease and dirt.

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‎But it was her eyes that froze me. They were amber—wolf eyes—and they were narrowed in pure, unadulterated hate.

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‎She held a tin bowl in one hand and a jug of water in the other.

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‎"You're awake," she said flatly. Her voice was smoky and rough, like she gargled with gravel. "Pity."

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‎She walked into the room, kicking the door shut behind her with a heavy boot. She didn't offer the food; she slammed the bowl down on the small bedside table. Slop sloshed over the rim—a gray, lumpy porridge that smelled faintly of oats and sawdust.

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‎"Eat," she commanded.

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‎"Who are you?" I asked, eyeing the food warily.

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‎"I'm the one who makes sure you don't die of starvation before the Alpha decides what to do with you," she sneered. She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm Vexa. Head Enforcer."

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‎Vexa. The name sounded sharp. Dangerous. Pretty fitting for its owner.

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‎"Where is Kaelen?" I asked.

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‎Vexa’s lip curled. "The Alpha is busy securing the perimeter. He has a pack to run. He doesn't have time to babysit a Bloodmoon princess."

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‎She looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on the ruined silk of my dress and the gold necklace at my throat. Her expression was a mix of disgust and jealousy.

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‎"Look at you," she scoffed. "Soft hands. skin like milk. You've never worked a day in your life, have you?"

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‎"I work," I defended weakly. "I help organize the—"

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‎"Organize parties?" Vexa laughed. "Out here, if you don't hunt, you don't eat. If you don't fight, you die. You wouldn't last an hour in the woods, Princess."

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‎"I survived the ambush," I said, lifting my chin. "I stabbed your Alpha."

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‎Vexa’s eyes flashed. She pushed off the doorframe, moving with frightening speed. Before I could blink, she was in my personal space. She shoved me—hard. 

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‎I stumbled back, my legs hitting the edge of the cot. I sat down heavily, the breath knocked out of me.

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‎"You didn't stab him," Vexa hissed, leaning down so her face was inches from mine. "He let you scratch him. If Kaelen wanted to stop you, he would have broken your wrist before you even drew that blade. Don't mistake his mercy for your strength."

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‎"Don't touch me," I gasped, trying to scramble back.

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‎"Or what?" Vexa mocked. "You'll cry for your daddy? He’s not here. And Kaelen isn't here to save you either."

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‎She grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at her. Her grip was iron-strong. "Listen to me, little leech. Kaelen might think you're worth something as a hostage, but I know the truth. Men like Magnus don't trade for damaged goods. Once he realizes we have you, he'll just replace you. And when he does... you'll be useless to us."

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‎She released my chin with a shove.

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‎"And when you're useless," she whispered, "I'll be the one to drag you to the cliffs and throw you off."

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‎I rubbed my jaw, my heart racing. She meant it. I could see the violence simmering under her skin. She wanted me dead.

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‎"Why do you hate me?" I whispered. "You don't even know me."

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‎"I know what you represent," she spat. "And I know what you are doing to him."

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‎"Doing to who? Kaelen?"

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‎"He’s distracted," Vexa snapped. "He should be focusing on the war. On us. But instead, he brings you here. He gives you his room."

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‎Her eyes drifted past me, landing on the cot.

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‎She froze.

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‎I followed her gaze. Lying on the foot of the cot, tangled in the gray wool blanket, was a black leather jacket.

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‎Kaelen’s jacket.

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‎He must have thrown it over me while I slept, or left it there by mistake. It was huge, battered, and smelled intensely of him—rain and pine.

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‎Vexa stared at the jacket as if it were a poisonous snake. Her nostrils flared, inhaling the scent. She smelled his scent mixed with mine on the fabric.

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‎The air in the room temperature dropped ten degrees.

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‎Slowly, Vexa turned her gaze back to me. If she looked angry before, she looked murderous now. Her pupils dilated, her wolf surfacing in a wave of jealousy.

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‎"You," she breathed, her voice trembling with rage. "You are wearing his scent."

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‎"I... I was cold," I stammered, pulling my legs up. "He just left it—"

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‎"He never leaves it," Vexa snarled. "That jacket belonged to his father."

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‎She lunged.

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‎She grabbed the front of my dress, hauling me to my feet like I weighed nothing. She slammed me against the rough log wall. My head cracked against the wood, stars bursting in my vision.

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‎"Take it off," she screamed. "Take his scent off you!"

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‎"I'm not wearing it!" I cried, clawing at her hands. But her grip was unbreakable.

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‎"Stay away from him," Vexa hissed, her spittle hitting my cheek. "He is a King. He is a warrior. He deserves a mate who can run with him, hunt with him, bleed with him. Not a broken, human doll who breaks a nail opening a door."

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‎She slammed me against the wall again for emphasis.

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‎"Vexa!"

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‎The roar came from the main room.

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‎The bedroom door, which Vexa had left unlatched, flew open.

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‎Kaelen stood there.

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‎He was wet, his hair dripping water onto his bare shoulders as if he had just come from the river. His chest was heaving. And his eyes were glowing that terrifying, molten gold.

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‎He looked at Vexa pinning me to the wall. He looked at my terrified face.

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‎"Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her."

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‎He enunciated every word with a lethal calmness that was far scarier than Vexa’s shouting.

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‎Vexa froze. She looked at Kaelen, then back at me. Slowly, reluctantly, she released my dress.

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‎I slumped against the wall, gasping for air.

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‎Vexa turned to Kaelen, her expression shifting from rage to hurt. "Alpha, I was just—"

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‎"Get out," Kaelen pointed to the door.

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‎"She’s the enemy, Kaelen!" Vexa argued, pointing a shaking finger at me. "She’s wearing your father’s jacket! She doesn't deserve—"

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‎"I said GET OUT!"

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‎The command hit Vexa like a physical blow. She flinched, her shoulders hunching in submission. She cast one last, venomous look at me, a promise of violence for later before storming out of the room.

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‎Kaelen watched her go, his jaw clenched tight. He didn't move until he heard the front door of the cabin slam shut.

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‎Then, he turned to me.

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‎He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't comfort me. He walked over to the cot, grabbed the leather jacket, and ripped it off the blanket.

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‎He glared at me, his eyes stormy again.

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‎"Eat your slop," he muttered. "And stay in the room."

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‎He walked out, slamming the bedroom door and locking it again.

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‎I slid down the wall to the floor, my knees shaking uncontrollably. I looked at the bowl of gray mush on the table.

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‎I wasn't hungry anymore.

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‎I realized then that Kaelen’s protection only extended to the walls of this cabin. Outside that door, there were wolves like Vexa waiting to tear me apart. And inside the door... there was an Alpha who hated that he wanted me.

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‎I was trapped between a rock and a hard heart.