A sound that came not from a human throat but from somewhere deep within Damien's chest, low and guttural, was as much the roar of a predator about to spring as the grinding of rocks together deep in the earth. It reverberated through the black glass table, making the fine crystal tremble, and sucked up all warmth from the air. Instead, the temperature in the room suddenly dropped.
Elena flinched, suddenly breathless. She felt the change in him at once. Gone was the sophisticated billionaire, and what took his place was something more primitive, ancient, and utterly terrifying. His molten feral light flared through golden eyes with pupils almost slightly elongating. The Alpha was here, and he was furious.
The effect on the others was immediate and profound. Anya's cruel smirk transformed into terror. Personal color vanished from her face, and she stepped back in her chair, her head sinking slightly down, and her gaze completely invisibly to everyone else going down and staring directly at the table-as though she was trying to make it all go away. It was an unmistakable gesture of submission, a nay-excuse in her world of strong wolf instincts, older and far more powerful than her pride.
Next to her, Elias became utterly still, the blank slate on his face cracking in slight bowing of his head to avoid being shredded by the fury of his Alpha. Even loyal Marcus bowed his head, paling as he was used to the utter fury from the Alpha. They were pillars for his family-powers by themselves-but when the tide of fury came upon him, they simply turned to dust. They were his pack, and he was their absolute undisputed master.
He did not raise his voice. What came out was a lethally soft snarl cutting through the silence, each word dropping as ice. He was not looking at Elena. His burning, golden gaze was fixed solely on Anya.
You talk about liability; you, sitting my table, eating my food, enjoying the protection of my name, only to question my choice and stain my mate with your use of disrespect while mistaking my patience and tolerance-for weakness. Leaned forward slightly-and that small mane will make Anya tremble even physically. You have forgotten your place.
He sat down, his movements measured, deliberate. "You will immediately be relieved of your duties as Enforcer. Marcus will take on your duties. You will take the Northern post. Patrol the border alone for one month. The nights are cold there. Perhaps the solitude will remind you what loyalty means."
The punishment was absolute, delivered with the cold finality of an executioner. Anya paling further but not contradicting him. She could not. Only a jerk in her neck, eyes very much fixed on the table in humiliation and fear.
Elena was frozen throughout this exchange-an utterly petrified witness to this wretched display of pack law. She had seen Damien as a billionaire. He was a pursuer; he was a passionate man. Now she was seeing him in his store-king-like, a predator, and judging in a court where he is the only law. And amidst the terror, which even as it chilled her blood, had stirred within her a feeling strange and treacherous. A dark thrill, primal in its source and fierce with satisfaction, that he was defending her, that this immense, terrifying power was being wielded on her behalf. The lump of a sleeping wolf within her knew the display, and it was not afraid. It was proud.
It horrified her so that she pushed it down.
His judgment delivered, Damien finally turned his attention to Elena. The feral blaze in his eyes softened almost imperceptibly as they met hers, but the raw power remained. He reached across the small space between them and placed his large, warm hand over hers where it rested on the table. The gesture was a stark contrast to the verbal violence of a moment before, yet it was just as powerful. It was a public claiming, a silent declaration.
But then he turned to the rest, making his voice cold, hard command that broached no misunderstanding. "Let this be the only warning. Elena is my mate. An insult to her is a death wish. An act against her is treason. Is that understood?"
A quiet chorus of "Yes, Alpha," was the immediate response.
Without further word, Elias and Marcus stood and made their exit. Anya followed in face of her shame and wrath, flinching not once to look back. The doors to the dining room fell shut behind them, leaving Elena alone with Damien in echoing silence, surrounded by the remains of the disastrous meal. He still held her hand in his, stroking the back of it softly, almost possessively.
The battle for yielding had not been accomplished with a kiss but by means of a growl. The woman looked into the eye of the terrible king of this horrid, violent world, realizing that his protection was far more terrifying than any threat.