Chapter Three
The Alpha's Claim
When I woke, the faint grey light of dawn was creeping through the tall windows, casting long streaks across the polished stone floors.
For a moment, I forgot where I was.
The silken sheets, the rich, musky scent of the man beside me, the low crackle of embers dying in the hearth—it all came flooding back in a dizzying rush.
Liam.
The Alpha King.
I shifted slowly, careful not to wake him.
He lay sprawled beside me, one muscular arm draped lazily across the bed as if reaching for me in his sleep. His golden hair tumbled across the pillow, catching the pale morning light like threads of molten fire.
He looked different now—so different from the ruthless predator he had been last night.
At rest, he seemed almost… human. Vulnerable, even.
My heart twisted painfully.
I should hate him.
I should fear him.
Instead, some traitorous part of me burned with curiosity, with longing to understand the man everyone else saw only as a monster.
I tried to slip from the bed, but before I could swing my legs over the side, his arm snapped out with lightning speed, catching my wrist.
I gasped, jerking back instinctively.
His eyes opened, brilliant and sharp and dangerous—and locked on mine.
"Running already, rabbit?" he said, his voice rough from sleep. "After one night of mercy?"
I shook my head quickly. "I—I wasn't—"
He sat up, dragging me easily into his lap with a single fluid motion.
Trapped against his chest, my heart pounding wildly against my ribs, I froze.
"You belong to me," he growled, his voice vibrating through my bones. "You do not leave my bed without permission."
Heat bloomed in my cheeks.
"I wasn't trying to leave," I whispered, barely audible.
His fingers tangled in my wild orange hair, tilting my face up to him.
"You smell like fear," he said, almost thoughtfully. "And something else."
He leaned closer, inhaling deeply at the curve of my neck.
"Desire."
I whimpered, mortified.
He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down my spine.
"You are not like the others," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "You do not pretend. Your body speaks the truth your lips dare not say."
I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.
Liam's fingers tightened ever so slightly in my hair, forcing me to look at him.
"Open your eyes, rabbit," he commanded.
I obeyed, my lashes trembling.
"Good," he said, his gaze burning into mine. "You will learn to obey me in all things. Not because I demand it—"
His free hand cupped my jaw with surprising gentleness.
"—but because you crave it."
My breath hitched.
I hated how easily he unraveled me.
He studied me for a long moment, then released me abruptly.
"Get dressed," he said. "You have training to begin."
"Training?" I echoed, confused.
A cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You think a rabbit can survive among wolves without learning to bare her teeth?" He stood, towering over me, his bare chest and sculpted abdomen catching the light in ways that made my mouth go dry.
"You will learn to walk with pride," he said. "You will learn to carry yourself as mine. You will learn to fight, to seduce, to command."
My stomach twisted with fear and excitement.
"But why?" I asked before I could stop myself.
His eyes darkened dangerously.
"Because you are not a toy to be used and discarded," he said, his voice low and rough. "You are mine. And I do not allow what is mine to be weak."
The way he said it—possessive, almost reverent—sent a strange thrill through me.
He strode to a massive wardrobe carved with ancient runes and pulled out a simple dress of dark green velvet, tossing it to me.
"Put that on," he said. "You will meet the court today."
I caught the dress against my chest, my heart hammering.
The court.
The wolves who served him, who feared him.
They would see me—judge me.
I swallowed hard and began dressing under his watchful gaze, my hands trembling so badly I could barely fasten the small buttons.
When I was done, he stepped closer, his fingers brushing over the fabric at my waist, adjusting it with an intimacy that made my knees weak.
"Beautiful," he said softly. "They will envy me."
I stared up at him, stunned.
No one had ever called me beautiful before.
Not my stepfather.
Not the cruel children of my village.
Not even my grandmother, who loved me in her way.
The words settled deep inside me, igniting something fragile and aching.
Without warning, he bent down and pressed a kiss to my forehead—a fleeting, almost tender touch.
I stiffened in shock.
"Do not look anyone in the eye unless I permit it," he said against my skin. "Do not speak unless I command it. Do not fear. You are under my protection now."
The way he said it—protection, not ownership—sent a confusing warmth spreading through me.
Before I could respond, he took my hand firmly in his and led me toward the heavy double doors of the bedchamber.
As we stepped into the corridor beyond, heads turned. Conversations stopped. Every pair of eyes latched onto us—onto me.
I saw the contempt, the jealousy, the hunger in their gazes.
And then I felt it: the low, dangerous growl vibrating through Liam's chest.
He drew me closer to his side, his body radiating territorial fury.
With that single, primal sound, he silenced them all.
She is mine, it said.
Touch her, and you die.
Pride and terror warred within me.
Whatever happened next—whatever trials, betrayals, and battles awaited—I knew one thing with absolute certainty:
I was no longer invisible.
I was the claimed of the Alpha King.
And nothing in SilverWood would ever be the same again.