CELESTE
My wolf, Sierra, shivered inside me. His hand felt like ice against my warmth. His hand held my wrist, and with the other, he slowly opened my fist. I had been clenching it so tight, but he made it look so easy.
But why he did that? Sierra wondered too. I glanced down to check.
Oh fuck. The blood. I almost forgot about the blood I had in my hand because of the rain.
I stared in horror as he looked down at my palm at the blood, the mess, the proof of what I had done in the swampland.
I should have washed it. Stupid. Stupid.
Tristan didn't say a word. His eyes darkened, and before I could pull away, he lifted my hand closer to his face. Then, he smelled it. Smelled the blood.
For a second, something flickered in his strange eyes. Surprise, maybe? But it vanished quickly, like it was never there.
Then slowly, his lips curled into a slow, wicked smirk. "Seems like you were really curious."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. My mouth felt too dry. But I gathered the courage to yank my hand back, forming a fist once more.
His sharp eyes stayed locked on me as his amusement became visible. "Celeste…" He began, "You tell me, what punishment do you think you deserve?"
I lowered my chin and tried to keep my voice steady. "Whatever you decide, milord."
But he wasn't done playing with me.
"Fine. We will ask your father."
I said nothing. Sierra stayed quiet as well.
What were we supposed to say? That my father wouldn't even recognize me if I passed him in the street? That if they offered him enough coin, he would call me a thief just to earn another bottle?
Tristan turned his back on me, walking toward the table. His brother was still sitting there, busy tossing a piece of popcorn in the air and catching it with his mouth. "Bet she is wishing they don't find her father ."
"Shut up, Trevor." Tristan muttered.
"Just saying." he grinned.
I stayed silent. If I opened my mouth again, I would either cry or scream. I hated both.
Half an hour later, the door creaked open again. Two guards returned, dragging in a man whose clothes were soaked in sweat. His beard was wild, his eyes half-lidded from drink. He stumbled once, then regained his footing with a grunt.
"Lorelei Holrick, Alpha." one of the guards announced.
I slowly lifted my head.
My father barely looked at me. Just one lazy flick of his bloodshot eyes in my direction before turning to Tristan. "Is that… Celie?"
"Lorelei Celeste." Tristan confirmed, not looking at me. "You are her father?"
My father snorted. "Haven't seen her in months. Still alive, I see."
My stomach curled inwards.
"She is accused of spying. She claims to live in the Eyot. That she is no rogue."
"She is not," my father said flatly. "She is my blood."
I nearly sagged with relief.
But then he added, "Though… that doesn't mean much, does it?"
Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
My father scratched his chin, then held out a hand to one of the guards. "You got any coin? My throat's dry."
Trevor burst out laughing behind him.
The guard looked at Tristan, who said nothing. The silence was permission enough. A silver coin was tossed into my father's palm. He caught it with surprising speed.
"Now." Tristan said evenly. "Answer the question."
"Right. She is no rogue. She is a pain in the ass, that's what she is. Always sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. Left me years ago, said I was a 'drunken waste.'" He rolled his eyes. "But aye. She is my daughter. Her mother was a weak little thing, may the gods spit on her grave. Died coughing up blood."
My cheeks flamed with humiliation. I didn't want to cry but gods, I wanted to disappear.
Tristan didn't speak. He was watching me now.
I tried to speak, "I didn't leave you. You threw me out—"
"Don't speak." Tristan's voice silenced me instantly.
Holrick rubbed the back of his neck and said to Tristan, "Look, Alpha, if she's caused any mess, I got no problem with you handling it. Honestly, I could use the coin if you are offering."
Trevor snorted popcorn out his nose. "Are you suggesting you would sell your daughter?"
"Daughter? You think that means something?" my father snorted. "She eats more than she earns. Of course, you can do whatever you want to with her. Hell, I will even sell her if you are looking for a body to scrub floors or warm beds."
That made my breath hitch. I looked up at him. I was not shocked. I just felt something had crashed my soul.
Tristan said nothing. His gaze didn't shift from me. Then suddenly—
"How much?" He had asked.
The room stilled.
My father blinked. "Pardon?"
"I said—" Tristan stepped forward to my father, "—how much will it take for you to sell your daughter to the royal house?"
Trevor stopped chewing. Even I stopped breathing. Sierra growled inside.
My father grinned slowly, greed shining in his eyes. "Depends. You want her for labor or pleasure?"
I flinched, and the chains around my wrists rattled.
Tristan's jaw flexed. "Watch your words." Then he reached into the fold of his dark coat and pulled out a black leather pouch.
It clinked when it hit the floor near my father's feet.
"That's more than you've earned in your whole miserable life," Tristan said. "Take it. And leave."
My father dove for it without hesitation.
Trevor made a disgusted noise.
I just stared at the floor. My heart was hammering. Was it shame? Betrayal? I didn't know. I was shaking.
My own father… sold me.
The guards untied my wrists.
"From this moment." Tristan said, stepping toward me, "Lorelei Celeste is property of the royal house."
Property. His words rang in my ears like a brand.
"You belong to me now." He said as if he wanted to remind me. "You have one day to move out of your house in the eyot and move in here."
Without giving me the chance to talk, he turned sharply and strode out of the room.
The guards pulled me to my feet, and for a moment I didn't move. I just stared at the spot where the pouch had landed. It was the price of my life.