The heavy oak door of my chambers thudded shut, its iron hinges groaning under the weight, but the sound was drowned by the raw screams tearing from my throat.
Elias's arms, unyielding as the stone walls surrounding us, held me tightly against his chest, his steady heartbeat a cruel counterpoint to the frantic chaos of my own.
The tapestries lining the room rich with woven scenes of wolves and moonlit hunts blurred into a haze as Father's voice roared in my mind, cold and merciless.
The dark storeroom of my childhood swallowed me, the crack of his belt against my skin echoing with every word.
You looked at them, Seraphina. You dared to gaze upon the beasts. You are Verdant Sect, above such filth.
"Father, please, don't lock me up again!" I gasped, my voice hoarse and splintered, the words spilling like shards of broken glass. "I didn't mean it, Father! I swear, I didn't touch her! Forgive me, please!"
My fingers clawed at Elias's tunic, the coarse linen bunching under my grip as I sought an anchor in the storm of my terror.
The little wolf pup's bright, curious eyes haunted me, her playful bounds twisting into the monstrous shapes Father had branded into my soul.
My screams grew ragged, my throat burning as if seared by fire, but the panic held me captive, chaining me to the darkness of my past. I thrashed weakly, my body trembling, my sobs a desperate plea for release from the memories that consumed me.
"Lara!" Elias's voice cut through my cries, sharp and commanding, resonating through the packhouse's stone corridors like a war horn. "Fetch her maid, now!" His order was aimed at some unseen guard beyond the door, his arms never faltering as he held me.
I pressed against him, my nails digging into his shoulders, my pleas tumbling out in a broken litany. "Father, I won't do it again! Please, don't hurt me!"
The shame of my collapse burned hotter than my fear, a searing humiliation that I, Seraphina, the composed daughter of the Verdant Sect, was reduced to this, a sobbing wreck in the arms of the Alpha I loathed.
The door creaked open, its hinges protesting, and Lara's soft gasp pierced the air. "My lady!" she cried, her footsteps stumbling as she rushed into the room.
Her warmth, usually a comfort, seemed distant as she hovered near the bed, her wide eyes darting between me and Elias.
"What's happened? Oh, my lady, what do I do?" Her voice trembled, her hands wringing the folds of her simple woolen gown, her usual cheer drowned by helplessness. She reached out, then hesitated, her fingers trembling as if afraid to touch me, her gaze pleading with Elias for guidance.
Elias's jaw tightened, his dark eyes flicking to Lara before returning to me.
"Stay back," he said, his tone firm but low, a rumble that vibrated against my cheek.
"She's trapped in her fear." His arms tightened, one hand cradling the back of my head, his fingers threading gently through my hair as I clung to him, my sobs muffled against his chest.
I hated him, hated his arrogance, his cold authority, the way his pack despised me for my sect's sins but my body betrayed me, seeking solace in the enemy I was bound to by a cursed marriage.
The scent of his tunic, leather and faint woodsmoke, mingled with my tears, grounding me even as I fought to escape the storeroom's grip.
My screams faded to whimpers, my strength ebbing like a tide, but my body still shook, each tremor a reminder of Father's lessons.
Elias shifted, his breath warm against my temple, and then a new scent enveloped me, rich and deep, like a forest after rain. Mahogany, polished and earthy, with notes of warm wood and subtle spice, curled into my senses, weaving through the panic like a gentle hand.
His pheromones flowed over me, soothing the jagged edges of my fear. My chest loosened, the suffocating grip of terror easing as the scent anchored me to the present.
The storeroom faded, its cold stone walls replaced by the warmth of Elias's hold, the mahogany scent a promise of safety, however fleeting.
"Sleep, Seraphina," Elias murmured, his voice a low rumble, softer than I'd ever heard from the Alpha whose every word sparked our bickering. The words felt like a truce, a moment of peace in our war of wills. My fingers slackened on his tunic, my eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion of my panic pulled me under.
The mahogany scent lingered, wrapping me in its embrace, and darkness claimed me, a fragile calm settling over my battered soul.
~~~~~~~~~
The soft scratch of quill on parchment roused me, a steady rhythm pulling me from the fog of sleep. My throat was parched, my tongue heavy as lead, the ache of my trauma lingering like a bruise on my heart.
The room swam into focus, the sunlight casting flickering shadows across the heavy canopy above my bed. My body felt leaden, my muscles stiff from the strain of my collapse. "Lara… water," I rasped, my voice a faint croak, expecting the familiar warmth of my maid's presence.
A shadow shifted, and a cup was pressed into my trembling hands, the cool metal a shock against my skin.
I sipped greedily, the water soothing the raw burn in my throat, my vision still blurred by sleep and exhaustion. I assumed it was Lara.
But as I drank, the fog lifted, my eyes clearing, and my breath caught in my chest. Elias sat beside me on the bed, his broad frame relaxed against the carved headboard, a parchment and quill discarded on the furs.
His dark eyes gleamed in the sunlight, a cocky smile curling his lips, as if he'd caught me in some private jest. The Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack, the man whose every glance sparked my loathing, watched me with a gaze that stirred a fire I couldn't name.
"Looking for your maid, wife?" he said, his voice low and teasing, the word "wife" laced with that infuriating amusement that always set our bickering alight."After clinging to me all night"
The mahogany scent still clung to the air, a reminder of his pheromones, his unexpected care, and the dangerous pull of the man I was meant to hate.