Seraphina's POV
"I am not marrying him!"
I spun around, the blood pounding in my ears, and my eyes fell on the tall window behind me. My heart lurched. It was high, much too high—but what choice did I have?
If I stayed, I would be caged, dressed like a doll, forced into a bond with a monster who would keep me alive only for me to wonder when he'd finally snap my neck.
I would rather break every bone in my body than be forced into a fate written by someone else's hand. The women behind me must have sensed my intention because I heard their footsteps quicken.
"She's going for the window!" one of them hissed.
I lunged forward, my hands reaching for the windowsill. The ground looked terrifyingly far below, but I'd rather risk the fall. However, before I could make the jump, strong hands grabbed my arms, yanking me backward with surprising force.
"No, you don't get to run anywhere!" they hissed.
"Let me go!" I thrashed against their grip, kicking and struggling like my life depended on it. Which, let's be honest, it probably did. "I won't marry him! I won't!"
But even as I fought them, something strange began happening. My limbs started feeling heavy, like they were filled with lead instead of blood. The strength drained from my muscles so quickly that it left me dizzy and confused.
What the hell?
My struggles became weaker, my movements sluggish. Within moments, I could barely lift my arms. My body went completely limp in their grasp, and they easily guided me away from the window.
"What..." I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. "What's happening to me?"
That's when it hit me. The breakfast. The perfectly prepared, delicious breakfast that had seemed too good to be true.
Because it was too good to be true, you idiot!
"What did you put in the food?" I demanded, though my voice came out more like a pathetic whimper than the fierce accusation I'd intended.
They ignored me completely, which was the usual frustrating pattern in this pack. They began dragging my useless body toward the dresser.
"Answer me!" I tried again, but they might as well have been deaf for all the attention they paid me.
The next hour passed in a haze of humiliation and helplessness. They dressed me like I was a life-sized doll, maneuvering my uncooperative limbs into the elaborate red wedding gown. The fabric felt like silk and sin against my skin, beautiful and damning all at once.
At least if I'm going to die, I'll look fabulous doing it.
They painted my face with makeup, styled my hair into an elegant bun decorated with small white flowers that mocked the darkness of this entire situation, and finally draped the crimson veil over my head.
When they turned me toward the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The woman staring back looked like the perfect werewolf bride—ethereal, beautiful, and completely trapped.
I looked like a sacrifice dressed up for slaughter.
They positioned me on the bed like some sort of cursed ornament, lowered the veil to cover my face, and then left without a word. I tried to stand, to move, to do anything, but my body remained as unresponsive.
My stomach churned. My hands, folded neatly in my lap, refused to obey me. I couldn't even lift a finger to tear the veil off. I was trapped in my own body.
As seconds passed, my panic grew. I had to do something, anything to stop this wedding. But how?
Think, Seraphina. Think! There had to be a way out of this nightmare.
But before I could formulate any sort of plan, the door opened. Heavy footsteps approached the bed, each one making my heart pound faster. I knew that walk, that presence that seemed to suck all the air from the room.
I looked up through the red veil and saw his silhouette—tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating the kind of dangerous authority that made smart people run in the opposite direction.
His scent confirmed what I already knew. He was here.
Adrian Blackwood.
"I don't want to get married!" I hissed through the veil, pouring every ounce of defiance I had left into those words.
He didn't respond immediately, just stood there staring at me. The silence stretched between us, thick with tension and unspoken threats.
"I don't want to marry you!" I said louder, my voice cracking with desperation.
"You don't have that choice," he replied, his voice carrying that infuriating calm that suggested he'd already won this war.
Like hell I don't.
I glared at him through the veil, gathering what little strength I had left for one final act of rebellion. This was it—my last card to play, the one thing that might actually get through to him.
"I, Seraphina Ashford, reject you, Adrian Blackwood, as my mate!"
The words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to explode. Complete silence filled the room, so absolute that I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
And then he chuckled.
The sound sent ice-cold shivers racing down my spine. It wasn't amused laughter—it was the kind of dark, predatory sound a wolf might make right before it devoured its prey.
Before I could process what was happening, he reached forward and lifted my veil. Those chocolate brown eyes met mine, and I saw something in their depths that made every survival instinct I had start screaming warnings.
He smiled—actually smiled—and it was possibly the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen.
"I, Adrian Blackwood," his lips curled, and that smile promised my ruin, "reject your rejection."
"You can't do that!" I sputtered, my voice rising with panic and disbelief. "You can't just reject my rejection!"
"Oh, what a naive person you are, Seraphina," he said, his voice dripping with condescending amusement. "You clearly don't know anything about werewolf rejection laws."
"What do you mean?"
"A rejection only becomes valid when both parties accept it."
My heart sank as the terrible reality crashed over me. Shit, I was screwed!
I gritted my teeth, desperation clawing at my chest. "Accept it!" I demanded, my voice shaking with fury and fear. "You have to accept my rejection!"
His smile widened, and it was absolutely predatory. "Why should I? Where's the fun in that?"
"I won't say the vows," I spat, my voice growing louder with each word. "I won't wear your ring, I won't sign anything, I won't—"
"You talk too much," he said quietly, his patience clearly wearing thin.
But I couldn't stop. The words poured out of me like a dam had burst. "I'll fight you every step of the way, I'll make every single day a living hell for you, I'll never stop trying to escape, I'll—"
Without warning, his hand shot out, fingers gripping my chin with firm possession. Before I could finish my threat, his mouth crashed down on mine.