Chapter 4

~SURI/RAGNAR~

"Do you want to see your papa die?" Father looks me in the eyes and says that.

Yes!!!!!!

I scream inwardly. The vengeful part of me wants this pack to burn to the ground for allowing this to happen to me, but a more loving part, that instinctual part that secretly loves my people and would want to protect them at all costs, that Alpha part of me that was stolen, whispers calm in my raging heart.

My father's grip on me tightens and his nails dig into my skin painfully. There is a glint in his eyes that warns me. I hate this whole arrangement, and I want to scream and tell the Lycan King that I am not Emily, the beloved daughter. But I'm not dumb enough not to know that Father and Amelia will kill me without thinking twice if I expose them and make him leave with the real Emily.

I look back at the Lycan King with his piercing amber eyes. Tears sting behind my eyes, but I repeat my mantra in my head.

'You are strong, Suri. You are the real princess, remember?' You will overcome this.'

The terms of the contract are very selfish and unbelievable. I will be his queen until I give him an heir; then he will discard me, as if I were nothing. I should not expect love, only duty. I should not expect loyalty from him, as the marriage is an open one. I cannot get pregnant for another man, except for the King.

This is not the life I imagined for myself. He wants an open marriage, but it still doesn't offer me any solace. I'm going to the Lycan kingdom from here, I don't know anyone there, and from what I know, Lycans abhor werewolves. How will I cope?

I blink back my tears and sign the contract. I've established that I'm born to be unlucky. Father's grip instantly loosens on me when I sign. Amelia lunges into her show of crocodile tears again.

Father hands me over to the Lycan King. As Amelia weeps and tries to grip my dress, Father holds her back to stop her. She wiggles in his arms.

"My baby, oh, my baby! Your Highness, please have mercy!"

The King did not as much as look at them as he turns to leave, beckoning the others to follow. We all follow behind. But the pain in my back is so unbearable that I can't keep up with his long stride. One of his guards puts a hand on my back to guide me and a loud yelp tears out of my throat.

Every step halts and all eyes turn to look at me. Amelia's sobs cease immediately as she stares at me in horror, wondering if their deceit will come to light. My father glares at me.

King Ragnar's eyes shift to me, his brow raised in confusion.

"I...I'm sorry, I think I'm having cramps. It's...it's nothing," I lie, trying not to grimace.

The King observes me for a while and without saying a word, he turns and resumes walking, but this time, he reduces his strides, making me keep up.

Outside, sleek black cars belonging to the King and his entourage line the driveway. I'm guided into the SUV with the King. My entire body trembles as I enter and sit beside him, while omegas load my luggage into the trunk of the other car.

Sitting close to this King is a new thing, and it unnerves me. Maybe because of the stories I've heard of him. I clutch my trembling hands together and watch my father stand with Amelia and his council members. I'm surprised to see tears well in his eyes as the engine of the car revs up. But as the cars begins to move slowly away, I see another glint in his eyes as his eyes meets mine and the corners of his mouth lifts in a smirk.

His tears are not of sadness, but of joy. He really can't wait to see me gone. I allow a tear to slide down my cheek for the first time since this whole farce began, knowing this is the last time I will shed any tear for my father.

The cars move away, and the pack house shrinks behind, until it is swallowed by trees and forests. We ride in silence. I'm aware of the King's massive body beside me, and his sandalwood scent. From the corners of my eyes, I watch his thick arms, those arms that could crush his enemies. I wonder if they are also capable of comforting someone.

There is silence in the car for a while as we drive. I have so many questions to ask, but looking at the King's profile, I cannot bring myself to ask them.

"You were by the river last night," he says, not quite a question and he did not look at me.

"Yes," comes my reply. "You were there too. It makes me wonder how many times you've snuck into werewolf packs unannounced and unnoticed."

The muscle in his jaw flex but he doesn't look at me or reply. I don't let that stop my questions.

"Is that why you don't post your pictures online? So that you can go into werewolf territories?”

Silence.

"You brought the question up," I mumbled, pouting. "I'm wondering why you suddenly chose to rem—"

My mouth clamps shut when he turns to face me. His amber eyes narrows. I look away from him, still pressing my lips together.

“For a princess, you’re quite talkative,” the King says finally, his voice calm but heavy.

I almost glare at him, if only his gaze were not pinned on me. But oh, I want to bite back so badly. I just do not know if he will throw me out of the moving car if I do.

I'm quite nervous, and I get talkative when I'm like that. Also, I want something to fill the silence that surrounds us, so that I can stop thinking about my father and how cruel he had been to me.

I just hope big man here does not strangle me before we get to our destination.

“For someone so young, you sure brood a lot. Don't you think you will get wrinkles before age forty?”

The guard sitting in front coughs, clearly fighting back a laugh. The King’s eyes flick toward him, and the poor man goes still as a statue.

***

~RAGNAR~

The audacity of this she-wolf is astounding.

Not regularly do I get anyone who speaks to me like this. Most people are intimidated by my mere presence, even from my own people.

Her last comment is a cheeky dismissal of my serious nature and it almost makes me smile, but I crush the urge. I am a King; I do not smile at my enemies' daughters, especially when they are meant to be my disposable means to an heir.

And I will make sure she knows that.

"Wrinkles are the least of your concerns, girl," I say, my voice dropping an octave, making it heavy with warning. "Your concern should be failing to honor the contract. If I brood, it is because I consider ways to survive; a skill you clearly lack, judging by your choice of conversation."

She sticks her nose up and doesn't back down. I'm not sure she is aware of the gravity of what she is into.

"And how is that survival, Your Majesty?" she retorts, glancing at my profile. "Sniffing out unguarded borders and hiding your face from the public? Seems more like paranoia than strategy."

My head snaps toward her this time. She truly has no filter. I had expected Lawrence's heir to be calm, collected, shy and eager to please, not this audacious little wolf with no regards for my demeanor. No wonder she was at the river when an elaborate party was being thrown for her.

"First of all, it's Your Grace, not Your Majesty," I correct. "Secondly, watch your tongue," I warn, resting a hand on the console between us. "That tongue belongs to me now, and it will be silent when I demand it."

"Then perhaps you should stop demanding answers from it," she replies immediately, her eyes flashing briefly with defiance before she looks back out the window. "I signed your contract. I know the rules. But I am not a mute possession, Your Grace." The biting sarcasm in my title is profound. "You can only buy my body, but not my obedience."

I stare at her, the confusion mounting into something sharp and complex. "Silence is all I requested," I finally state, dismissing her. "Learn the difference, or you will learn about true punishment sooner than you anticipate."

"I look forward to that lesson, Your Grace," she murmurs, the cheekiness replaced by a cool, unsettling acceptance.

I turn back to the front, clenching my jaw. The ride just became a lot longer. My little wife is not going to be an easy meat to chew anyway.