Chapter 6 Soraya

I lay back and stared at the ceiling until it blurred, then blinked it sharp again. It became a game, or at least something to do.

Footsteps approached quietly, as if someone didn’t want to be heard until they were right at the door. I didn’t bother sitting up. I turned my head to see who would sneer at me next.

Two guards entered and took up space on either side of the doorway.

Lucien stepped in.

Power and anger radiated from him. His Alpha power stretched to all corners of the room. I felt it close in like a blanket, but not a nice fluffy one. One that suffocates.

His eyes were like steel, the gray before a storm breaks. For a heartbeat something pressed under his skin—golden and wild—and then shut down as he shoved it back.

But I saw it, his wolf leaped forward.

Orielle damn near broke through my skin to get to it.

Ori, stop!

No! He’s ours!

Lucien stopped an arm’s length away as if I was contagious. I scooted upright until I sat facing his looming standing presence.

He didn’t speak right away. He looked. He took stock of the room, the sneer on his face suggested my meager accommodations were too good for me.

Then his eyes fell on me. Starting at my feet, he worked his way up until our eyes met. I didn’t drop my gaze; I met him head on.

What did I have to lose at this point?

“Why.” His voice flat and menacing. It wasn’t a question; it was a demand.

“Why what?” I said more than asked.

“Why did you kill my father?”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t!” The chain rattled as I leaned forward. “I would never. I didn’t even know he was dead until your goons yanked me off the street.”

My chest heaved now as anger set in. “How did I supposedly kill him? Huh? I don’t even know how he was killed.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter Asshole. I. Didn’t. Kill. Him.”

“Don’t lie. You ran.” His chest rose sharp, and his Alpha power pressed harder. “That’s guilt enough.”

“You rejected me!” The words tore out of me through gritted teeth, fighting back against him. “That’s why I left!”

“Bullshit.” His jaw locked, eyes storm-dark.

“It’s true!” My throat burned. “You condemned me to ridicule and humiliation the second you said no.”

His wolf shoved against his skin, gold flickering in his eyes. He fought it down, but I saw it.

“You feel it,” I said, breath shaking. “Don’t you dare deny it—I just saw your wolf.”

“My wolf only wants to kill yours for what you did,” his face hardened. “There is no bond. It’s gone. I severed it.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped back. “It’s still here. You can shove it down all you want, but I see it every time your eyes flash. My wolf feels it!”

“She’s wrong,” his breath came rough, chest heaving. “I chose my mate.”

“But your wolf wants me.”

Orielle slammed forward inside me, claws out, desperate.

Ours! she screamed, filling me until I had to bite back a sob.

His eyes lit gold again, brighter this time, before he killed it—like crushing something wild under his hand.

“You want it gone?” My voice shook with fury. “Then make it go.”

Any awe and hope for a bond I once felt for this man was gone. Only hatred remained.

“Watch me.” His voice was wolf-deep, a growl that rattled the stone.

We stood locked, breath harsh, wolves straining for mate, humans straining for denial. The air between us shook with it. Neither of us moved.

A muscle in his cheek jumped. His nostrils flared once. For a second I saw the man without the room, without the guards, without the house or the flags or the dead—just a wolf dragged to heel and not liking who held the leash.

He stepped back. The distance went cold.

He turned for the door. His hand hit the jamb as he passed through.

“No one comes down here but me,” he ordered.

“Yes, Alpha,” the guards answered together.

He didn’t look at me again. He walked out. The door shut; the bolt slid and the lock turned.

Orielle paced once, twice, three times, then curled small and furious and humming.

He felt it, she said, fierce in the quiet. He felt us.

I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t. I didn’t know what else to say. My eternally hopeful wolf. Hoping for a mate that would never be hers.

I pressed my palms flat on my thighs until my hands stopped shaking. I stared at the place he’d stood and tried to get my breathing under control.

“Bastard!” I said yelled. Hopefully it was loud enough for the whole damned Pack House to hear. “I didn’t freaking do it!”

Above, I imagined the pack carrying on as it does from day to day while I sat back against the wall and watched the door that only one person was allowed to open.

The one person who chose another mate besides his fated one.

Then I thought about the mate he chose. She was everything I wasn’t.

The smiling heiress who got everything she wanted in her life, while I sat here alone. Blamed for something I didn’t do, right on the heels of that son-of-a-bitch rejecting me.

How dare they treat me this way. Just because I’m a Wane?

After that moment of anger, I realized how futile the emotion was. It was just as draining as crying all the time.

Instead, I tried to focus on what I thought might happen next. Surely the pack had some type of counsel that would represent me and hear my side of the story. That’s how they did things on television, the innocent always went free.

Believing there was someone out there that would believe me, even if they were paid to do so, helped the minutes tick by while I waited.

And waited.