Chapter Two
The First Night
The door closed behind me with a hollow thud, sealing me inside the Alpha King's private chambers.
My bare feet sank into the thick furs covering the cold stone floor, but the warmth did little to soothe the chill seeping into my bones. The hearth fire crackled in the corner, throwing long shadows across the room—shadows that seemed to watch me, whisper about me.
I stood frozen, unsure what to do, unsure how to breathe.
Liam poured himself a goblet of dark wine from a crystal decanter, moving with a predatory grace that made every hair on my body stand on end. He didn't glance at me. He didn't need to. His presence filled the room, thick and heavy, demanding my attention like gravity itself.
"You may speak, rabbit," he said without looking back. His voice was softer now, but no less commanding. "If you have something to say."
My mouth was dry.
What could I say?
That I was terrified? That I wanted to run? That despite my fear, my heart thundered not just from dread, but from something dangerously close to fascination?
I clutched the flimsy fabric of my slip tighter around myself and found my voice.
"I—I am yours, my lord," I whispered, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.
A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. He turned then, swirling the wine in his goblet, studying me the way one might study an interesting but ultimately fragile thing.
"My lord," he repeated mockingly. "You think titles will save you, little rabbit?"
I lowered my gaze, shame burning my cheeks.
"No," I admitted. "Nothing can save me."
For a heartbeat, the air shifted. He moved closer, his boots silent on the thick rugs, until I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
His hand brushed my hair aside, baring my neck.
"You understand your place," he murmured. "That is good. Many before you did not."
The reminder—the countless other girls who had been here before me, who had vanished into the mist—made my stomach lurch.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for rough hands, for cruel lips, for the violence I had been warned about.
Instead…there was nothing.
Silence.
A stillness heavy with confusion.
I opened my eyes slowly.
Liam stood inches from me, but he made no move to touch me. His gaze swept over my trembling form with a strange expression—something between hunger and restraint.
"You are untouched," he said quietly, almost to himself.
I nodded, unable to speak.
"Good," he murmured. His fingers brushed my cheek, feather-light. "I do not want spoiled things."
I flinched at his words, but before the shame could sink its claws too deep, he caught my chin and forced me to look up at him.
"Fear is healthy," he said. "But you will not fear me when I take you. You will beg for me."
A gasp escaped my lips.
He smiled—slow, wicked, devastating—and released me.
"Strip," he ordered again, but this time, the word was softer, more like a coaxing than a command.
Tears stung my eyes. Humiliation warred with survival. My hands shook violently as I peeled the sheer slip over my head, leaving me bare and trembling before him.
Liam prowled around me, one finger trailing lightly down my spine, making me shiver.
"You are exquisite," he said, almost reverently. "Wasted on the fools who never saw your worth."
He came to stand before me, towering over my smaller frame. For a terrifying moment, I thought he would tear into me, claim me brutally as the stories said he would.
Instead, he reached out and cradled my face in his large hands.
And for the first time since my mother died, someone touched me…gently.
A sob built in my chest, but I forced it down.
"Why are you crying, rabbit?" he asked, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped free.
"I don't know," I whispered honestly. "I don't understand any of this."
He studied me for a long moment.
Something flickered in his eyes—something raw and wounded and achingly human.
Without warning, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the enormous bed that dominated the room. I tensed, but he simply laid me down atop the silken sheets, covering me carefully as if afraid the cold would harm me.
Then he stretched out beside me, fully clothed, propped on one elbow.
"You will sleep tonight," he said simply. "Tomorrow…we begin."
Confusion slammed into me.
"Sleep?" I choked out. "But I thought—"
His hand covered my mouth, silencing me.
"I am not like them," he said, his voice a low growl. "I do not break what I intend to keep."
He removed his hand, and for a long moment, we simply stared at each other in the firelight. No words. Only the sound of our breathing, the crackle of flames.
"Rest, rabbit," he murmured.
Slowly, hesitantly, I let my body relax against the softness of the bed.
Sleep did not come easily. Every sound made me flinch. Every shift of his weight beside me sent my heart racing.
But as exhaustion pulled at me, I felt something strange and terrifying:
Safety.
Beside the man everyone called a monster, I felt safer than I had ever felt in my stepfather's house.
And as sleep dragged me under, I heard his voice—barely a whisper, a ghost of a promise:
"You will be mine, little one. Body, heart, and soul."