Todos los capítulos de A BRIDE FOR THE RUTHLESS LYKAN: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

INARA’S POVI smoothed my hands down the front of the heavy ivory silk, watching the way the amber candlelight caught the intricate pearl embroidery along the bodice. The fabric was cold against my skin, fresh from the seamstress’s iron, smelling sharply of starched lace, sweet lavender water, and old money. In less than two weeks, this dress would define my life. In less than two weeks, I would stand in the cathedral before the elite of the city, take Maksim’s hand, and finally become a wife.I took a slow, deep breath, feeling the stiff boning of the corset press against my ribs. I had wanted this for so long.My father had promised me to Maksim years ago, back when my mother was still alive to brush the knots from my hair and sing me to sleep during the long northern winters. After she died, the warmth in our estate seemed to leave with her. My father’s grief had lasted barely a year before he brought home his second wife, a sharp-eyed woman who looked at me not as a daughter, but

INARA’S POVThe carriage ride back to my father’s estate was a blur of dark trees and rain-slicked cobblestones. My body was numb, but my heart hammered violently against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate for escape. When the carriage finally ground to a halt before the massive stone portico of the main house, I didn't wait for the footman to open the door. I threw it open myself and marched up the grand steps, my heavy woolen cloak trailing wetly behind me.I kicked open the heavy double doors of my father’s study without knocking.Viktor Volkov sat behind his grand mahogany desk, illuminated by the warm light of two brass oil lamps. He was reviewing ledger books, a glass of dark amber spirits resting near his right hand. He looked up, his thick brows furrowing in immediate annoyance at the intrusion."Inara?" he demanded, setting his pen down. "What is the meaning of this unseemly noise? Do you have any idea what time it is?""It’s over," I gasped out, my voice ragged, fighting the

INARA’S POVThe estate was suffocatingly quiet by nightfall. The heavy oak walls, which had once felt like a sturdy fortress against the outside world, now felt like the iron bars of a cell. Every quiet corridor echoed with the ghost of whispers, every passing servant lowering their eyes as I walked by, caught between pity and the instinct to protect their own standing with my stepmother.I could not sleep. The air in my bedroom felt thick, smelling faintly of the burnt velvet and scorched metal still settling in the cold ash of my fireplace.I pulled a knitted black shawl around my shoulders and stepped out into the dark hallway. I didn't have a destination in mind; I simply needed to move, to feel the cold stone floor beneath my slippers to remind myself that I was still solid, still real, despite how effortlessly my family had dissolved my life hours earlier.A soft, warm light spilled out from the glass doors of the grand conservatory at the far end of the eastern wing.I paused a

INARA’S POVThe heavy oak door of my bedchamber clicked shut, sealing out the hollow murmurs of the hall below. I leaned my back against the solid wood, my lungs hitching on a breath that felt too sharp, too cold.Five days.In five days, I would be loaded into a carriage and driven north, past the jagged teeth of the Iron Ridge, into the icy realm of Vargovia. A human prize bound for a Lykan court.I didn't weep. Tears were a luxury for girls like Elizaveta girls who had fathers to fight for them, stepmothers to comfort them, and lovers to shelter them. Instead, I walked over to the tall mahogany wardrobe in the corner and pulled open its heavy doors.My dresses hung in orderly rows: pale blues, soft creams, and silver-threaded silks. The wardrobe of a proper human lady, tailored for courtly dances, tea on the terrace, and a quiet life as Maksim Petrov's wife.I reached out and grabbed a handful of fine lace, ripping it away from the bodice of a sky-blue gown. The fabric tore with a

INARA’S POVThe grand dining hall was suffocatingly warm, hot enough to make the heavy velvet tapestries along the stone walls smell of ancient dust and stale woodsmoke. Iron chandeliers hung low from the vaulted ceiling, their dozens of beeswax candles dripping thick, creamy fat onto the long mahogany table below.It was meant to be a farewell dinner. A formal gathering to mark the departure of the eldest daughter of House Volkov.Instead, it was a victory feast.I sat at the far end of the long table, clad in a dark grey high-collared gown that swallowed my neck and wrists. Directly across from me sat Maksim Petrov and Elizaveta. They sat close enough that their shoulders brushed beneath the golden glow of the candlelight. Elizaveta wore a gown of rich plum velvet, her blonde hair arranged in intricate coils studded with pearl pins—pins that Maksim had purchased for me only two months prior.Maksim looked thoroughly uncomfortable. His dark green coat was immaculate, but his collar s