Ruby's POV
We all froze.
The air shifted in an instant thick and sharp like it could cut skin. I don't think any of us breathed as we stared in Zaliver's direction. His back was turned to us, but his head had twisted just enough to send a piercing glare right at Stella.
To the others, I was sure he looked menacing tall, broad-shouldered, every muscle under his shirt coiled with authority and quiet violence. But I didn't see what they saw. The morning sunlight filtered in through the window, casting a glow around him like he was carved from shadow and light. His raven-black hair caught the light in a way that made it gleam like silk, and one dark strand had fallen across his cold, unrelenting eyes. Ice-blue. Dangerous. Beautiful.
Stella stumbled back a few paces, head low, until she hit the wall with a quiet thud. What the hell was that? Her little entourage traded looks before mumbling amongst themselves, stealing glances our way.
Zaliver didn't spare them another look. He turned sharply, holding a plate, and walked over to the table with that effortless, predatory stride of his. Without a word, he set the plate in front of me. I didn't look at the food I looked up at him instead.
His expression was unreadable. Lips pressed tight, eyes steady. He crossed his massive arms over his chest like he was waiting to see what I'd do next.
I finally looked down. Five thick pancakes, already cut, syrup drizzled perfectly like something from a diner menu. I blinked. When did he even…?
He made these?
"Eat," he said blunt, commanding.
Rude. I was starving, sure, but still. A little manners wouldn't kill him.
I shot him a glare, still simmering from earlier. Now that I was sitting and not worried about being dragged off for torture, my fear had dulled to a sharp edge of irritation. My strength was slowly crawling back up from wherever it had fled, and with it, my mouth.
"I know we're wolves," I muttered, voice laced with sarcasm, "but I do eat like a civilized person. Fork, please?"
The kitchen fell into a stunned silence. You'd think I'd just kicked a puppy from the way everyone looked at me wide-eyed, horrified, like I'd said something sacrilegious. I glanced at Zaliver. His jaw clenched, face hardening.
To my surprise, he didn't bark back. He turned on his heel and opened a cabinet, retrieving a fork without saying a single word.
He walked back and handed it to me. Then, without breaking that wall of icy silence, he sank into the chair beside mine and folded his arms again.
Too close.
Way too close.
I fidgeted in my seat but didn't move away. Instead, I picked up the fork and dug in. Hunger won over everything else. The pancakes were warm, fluffy, perfect. I didn't stop until my plate was clean. Only then did I realize just how starved I'd been.
When I looked up, Zaliver was watching me with a strange look somewhere between pleased and possessive. He hadn't taken his eyes off me once.
Still not turning around, he ordered over his shoulder, "Get her a bottle of water."
One of the twins jumped to his feet, pulled one from the fridge, and handed it to me, trying not to make eye contact. I took it with a quiet nod.
"Thanks."
"No problem," he muttered. Probably thinking about how he technically didn't have a choice.
I took a few sips, then placed the bottle on the table. Silence settled again.
"So…" I started awkwardly, unsure how to even begin.
"What?" Zaliver asked, leaning toward me. Even seated, he was still towering. How was that even fair?
I hesitated, then let the bitterness slip through. "Can I go now? I think you got what you wanted."
Everyone heard me. I didn't care.
I needed to go home. I wanted to go home.
The way he dug through my mind… the way he didn't even ask. He didn't trust me his own mate. That truth stung worse than anything. He could've just asked. I would've told him anything.
His voice cut through my thoughts cold, final.
"I already told you, Ruby. The answer is no. I won't repeat myself. Drop it."
I flinched. Not because I was scared but because my heart twisted at how easily he dismissed me.
I stood up, silent, and walked out of the kitchen, fury bubbling under my skin.
Behind me, I heard a chair scrape back. Then footsteps. Fast. Angry.
A hand closed around my arm, yanking me to a stop. I spun to face him, breathing hard.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Zaliver growled, his eyes stormy and locked on mine.
I tried to pull free, but his grip was unbreakable. Fine. He wanted to play Alpha games? I'd change the strategy.
"Let go," I said, voice level.
He didn't.
"No. Now answer me."
I lifted my chin, stared him down.
"I'm looking for the door," I said evenly.
His eyes widened for a second then darkened. His pupils dilated, swallowing the icy blue until they were almost black.
Power rolled off him in waves, pulsing in the air between us. I felt it in my bones. Cold. Primal.
"I said you couldn't leave," he whispered, each word slow and heavy.
I took a small step back.
That calm tone? The one cloaking all the rage underneath? It was more terrifying than any shouted threat. And still somewhere in the storm that was him I saw the pull. The conflict.
This wasn't just power. This was possession. Matebond deep and wild and messy.
And I wasn't sure which one of us it would destroy first.
"I... I'm done asking for your permission." My voice trembled, but I didn't back down. "I tried being polite. But you don't have a reason to keep me here anymore. You got what you wanted, so let me go."
I pulled my arm, but his grip didn't budge. His chest rose and fell in steady, sharp breaths. His nostrils flared, and for a second, I thought I saw something primal flicker behind his eyes.
"No reason, huh?" he repeated, mockery laced in his voice. A dangerous smile curved his lips.
The room felt colder all of a sudden. Like the air had thinned and the shadows had grown teeth.
He yanked me toward him in one swift pull, letting go of my arm only to wrap it securely around my waist. My breath caught as he leaned in, his nose grazing mine. I froze, too aware of his warmth, of how close we suddenly were. Then, with deliberate slowness, he dragged his nose along my cheek, then back again until we were nose-to-nose.
I inhaled shakily, my knees threatening to give out beneath me.
"So being mine isn't a good enough reason?" he whispered, the smirk tugging at his lips anything but gentle.
That did it.
I shoved against him with both hands. "Let me go, you jackass! I'm going home and you can't stop me!" My voice cracked with fury. "You don't want me, Zaliver, so I'll do both of us a favor and rej "
The world flipped before I could even finish the sentence.
In a heartbeat, I was flung over his shoulder, air whooshing out of my lungs. My scream came out more like a gasp as he moved no, blurred through the house. Everything became a whirlwind of color and noise, and my hair whipped around me like I was caught in a storm.
When we stopped, it wasn't gentle.
He tossed me not hard, but definitely without warning and I landed on something soft that sent me bouncing once, twice.
I blinked up at the ceiling, stunned.
A bed.
He'd thrown me onto a bed.
The room was dim, lit only by the slivers of daylight slipping through the thick curtains. The air was still, but tense. My instincts screamed, every nerve in me suddenly alert. I scrambled back, eyes wide, my breath shallow. The door stood behind him, and he filled the space completely.
He didn't say a word. He just looked at me.
Zaliver stood in the doorway, shadowed and sharp. His lips parted slightly, and I caught a glimpse of his canines longer than they should be. His head tilted just slightly, exposing his throat, and then he started moving.
Each step was slow. Measured. Predatory.
I watched helplessly as he stalked toward the bed. His lashes cast dark shadows over his stormy eyes, making him look even more dangerous. And yet there was something magnetic in the way he moved. Something that rooted me in place, that had my gaze locked onto him even as my brain screamed to run.
I darted a glance at the door. Too far. He saw it too.
He smirked and clicked his tongue softly. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached for the hem of his black V-neck and pulled it over his head.
My breath hitched.
Oh.
My wolf howled low in the back of my mind, restless and pacing. Zaliver's body was everything I feared and everything I craved. Broad shoulders, defined chest, and a stomach that was carved with muscle. His skin looked warm and smooth, and I had the most ridiculous urge to touch him.
He was perfection in a nightmare setting.
"Am I to your liking?" he asked, his voice a deep, rich sound as he took another step closer.
I was panting.
Literally panting.
This was insane. I'd never been in a situation like this. No guy had ever tossed me onto a bed, taken his shirt off, and then looked at me like he was debating whether to devour me with his mouth or his claws.
I cleared my throat and forced the haze from my head. I blinked away the daze and met his eyes, keeping my tone flat.
"You're a solid eight out of ten."
It was dumb. Stupid even. But I couldn't give him the satisfaction.
I expected him to laugh, or maybe scoff.
What I didn't expect was for him to lunge.
He came at me with a flash of fury on his face, and I screamed, rolling just in time to avoid his hands.
I hit the floor with a thud and scrambled to my feet, my hair wild around my face. But before I could make a run for it, a strong hand snatched my wrist and yanked me straight into his chest.
Bare skin met mine.
His arms wrapped around me, and we fell back together. I gasped, bracing for impact, but he twisted us midair so that when we hit the bed again, he landed on top, straddling me.
My wrists were pinned above my head in one hand.
I stared up at him, panting, hair tangled around my face, heart racing like a drumbeat out of control. His weight, his heat, his scent it overwhelmed everything.
And oddly... I wasn't scared. Not in the way I should've been.
Part of me felt something else. Something dangerous. Something thrilling.
Like this was a game I didn't know I'd agreed to play.