Seraphina's POV
His expression shifted, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "Kink?"
I nodded like an overeager student, my mouth apparently deciding this was the perfect moment to deliver an impromptu psychology lecture. "Yeah, you know how some people have really twisted kinks? Like that serial killer who'd spend hours brushing his victims' hair before strangling them. Or the one who'd cook elaborate five-course meals before slipping poison into the dessert. Oh, and there was this guy who—"
Sera, stop. You're literally giving a how-to guide to someone who actually wants to kill you...
"—would read entire bedtime stories to his victims before, well..." I made a theatrical slicing motion across my throat, complete with dying sound effects.
"So I'm wondering—do you have some weird nurturing-your-prey kink before the grand finale? Or is this special VIP treatment reserved exclusively for me because I'm supposedly your mate?"
He looked at me with what I could only describe as amused bewilderment, then actually laughed. "You have a very colorful mind for someone who's been..."
"Who's been what?" My curiosity spiked.
He didn't answer. Instead, he plucked the nail scissors from my hand like he was confiscating a toy from a toddler. "Next time you want to inflict damage," he said, examining the pathetic little scissors with obvious disdain, "choose something that might actually draw blood."
I gaped at him.
Was he giving me advice on how to attack him better? What kind of backwards logic was that?
"I'll have dinner sent up," he said, sliding off my bed like nothing had happened. The abrupt change of direction in our conversation left me scrambling to keep up.
"W-what?"
"Eat well and get your rest. You'll need your strength tomorrow," he said mysteriously, with a smile that sent shivers down my spine, and not in a good way. I could see it in his eyes. He was up to something.
"Why?" I asked, wondering what fresh hell awaited me. "What's going to happen tomorrow?"
My mind quickly conjured up several not-so-pleasant scenarios of how he might kill me. Each one made me shudder in horror.
He moved towards the door, then paused. Another chuckle escaped him as he looked back over his shoulder. "We're getting married tomorrow."
My eyes went so wide I'm pretty sure they almost fell out of my head. My mouth dropped open like a broken hinge. "We are WHAT?" I almost screamed, but he was already gone, leaving me alone with my rapidly spiraling thoughts.
Did he just say MARRIED? As in, white dress, wedding cake, till-death-do-us-part MARRIED?
My brain went into full panic mode. What the actual hell was going on? Didn't he want me dead? Since when did murder plans include wedding bells? Was this some bizarre werewolf custom I'd missed? Like, 'Hey, let's get hitched before I rip your throat out'?
He definitely didn't love me—I was the enemy's daughter, for crying out loud. Being his supposed mate didn't magically erase the fact that he despised me along with the rest of the werewolf world.
This man probably looked at my face and thought "target practice," not "happily ever after."
So why the marriage announcement? What kind of sick, twisted game was he playing?
The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that this was his twisted method of torture. Marry the enemy's daughter, parade her around like a trophy, then dispose of her when he got bored.
Well, over my dead body. There was absolutely no way—NO WAY—I was marrying that man.
I clenched my fists, feeling determination surge through me like electricity. Fine. He wanted to play games? I'd show him exactly what kind of opponent he was dealing with.
Tonight, I was breaking out of this place. The first escape attempt was a complete disaster because I'd literally run straight into him, but this time I'd be smarter about it.
That night, after a surprisingly decent dinner, I crept downstairs with my empty plates. Each step creaked under my feet, and I winced, trying to move as quietly as possible.
But when I reached the main floor, something felt... wrong. The entire house sat in unnatural silence. No voices drifting from the common room, no laughter echoing down hallways, no sounds of pack members doing their usual evening routines.
It was like everyone had simply evaporated. Usually, you'd find people scattered around—playing cards, watching TV, just hanging out. The pack house was never this quiet, especially not in the evenings.
It was beyond weird, but honestly? I wasn't about to complain. Fewer people meant better odds for my great escape.
Maybe they're all out planning tomorrow's wedding, I thought bitterly. Or scheming how to dispose of the bride afterward.
I slipped into the kitchen, grateful to find it empty. After dumping my plates in the sink, I opened the spice cabinet and grabbed the chili powder. Then I eased open the knife drawer and selected the sharpest blade I could find—a decent-sized kitchen knife that looked like it meant business.
Hiding the things under my shirt, I listened for any sounds of approaching footsteps or voices. There was nothing but silence.
Ignoring how unsettling the emptiness felt, I breathed a sigh of relief and snuck back toward the stairs. Every step felt like it lasted an eternity, but I finally made it back to my room without encountering a single soul.
Once safely inside with the door closed, I smiled. Chili powder and a sharp knife—not exactly a good weapon, but it was better to have something than leave empty handed. The powder for blinding any rogues or nasties I might encounter in the woods. And the knife for... well, I hoped I didn't have to use that.
Next came the hardest part: the waiting game.
I needed to wait until the night grew deeper, until I was absolutely certain everyone was dead asleep. Only then could I make my move.
Minutes crawled by like hours. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the door, willing time to move faster. Every small sound made my heart jump.
My mind kept circling back to my last escape attempt. The memory made my stomach clench with dread. I'd barely made it past the tree line before everything went sideways. The rogues, the chase, nearly dying in those woods...
But this time?
This time would be different.
It had to be.