The sound of bones cracking softly echoed as his family shifted back into their human forms, fur vanishing, claws retracting, golden eyes returning to their natural colors. The air still carried a faint, wild scent of beasts.
"She will have to get used to our shape," one of his aunts said coldly, adjusting her collar as if nothing had happened.
Another voice followed, sharper, older. "She's here for what the sanctuaries were made for—to bear children. Nothing more. Let her have that in mind."
Their words scraped against him like claws. He clenched his jaw, fingers twitching at his side. Yes, that was the reality. That was the way things were done here.
But why did hearing it aimed at her make his blood boil?
"We shall not talk about this," he cut them off, voice low and edged.
They opened their mouths to argue, but the look in his eyes silenced them. He turned to one of the waiting servants. "We'll eat separately. In my office. Bring two portions."
The servant bowed quickly. Before anyone could speak again, he took Diana by the arm—firm, but not rough—and led her out of the hall.
The corridor was quiet compared to the dining room, the air warmer. She followed without resisting, still too overwhelmed to speak.
"Don't listen to them," he said suddenly. His own words surprised him. Why did he care how she felt?
She nodded, her voice soft but clear. "Thank you. I… knew a few things, but the sanctuary gave us little about what's outside."
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Sanctuary. A word that always left a bitter taste.
"Yes," he said dryly. "Sanctuaries just made you something close to a slave."
Her fingers twitched slightly, but she didn't argue. Of course she wouldn't. Females rarely did.
His steps slowed for just a second. What if I showed her more?
A thought he shouldn't be having.
He clenched his jaw. No. What am I thinking?
She wasn't supposed to be different. She was just a female chosen to be his. Nothing more.
…And yet, the sound of her quiet steps beside him felt louder than the entire room they had just left.
The door to his office closed with a soft, final click behind them. The scent of polished wood, leather, and faint tobacco filled the space. Two plates sat on the heavy desk, steam curling upward from perfectly cooked food.
He gestured toward one, then leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed. "Sit," he said simply. His voice carried the weight of command—but something in his posture hinted at… uncertainty.
Diana hesitated for a moment, then lowered herself onto the chair, careful not to spill a drop. She glanced at him, noting the way he watched her from across the desk. Not like a master observing a servant—but more like… a man trying to measure something he didn't fully understand.
"Eat," he said, breaking the silence.
She picked up her fork, still tense, and took a cautious bite. He waited, dark eyes following each movement. She could feel them, heavy and intense, yet not threatening.
After a few moments, he spoke again, low, almost conversational:
"You're different," he said. The words weren't sharp, but deliberate. "Most… females from the sanctuary are quiet, obedient, predictable. You… aren't."
She froze mid-bite. "I… I just—"
"No," he interrupted, holding up a finger. "Don't explain. I want to see. Actions tell me more than words."
Her cheeks warmed. This was the first time someone had watched her for who she was, rather than just as a possession or a tool. And it was unnerving.
He leaned back slightly, arms still crossed, gaze sharp. "You'll have to learn quickly," he said. "Not just rules, but… how to move, how to respond. How to survive. Here, obedience isn't enough."
She swallowed, nodding silently, her fingers brushing against the silver bracelet on her wrist. It glinted in the soft light from the window, a constant reminder of the claim he had on her—and the one she was starting to feel on him.
For the first time, he allowed a small flicker of something softer to cross his face—a glance that lingered longer than it should have, just for her. Then he straightened, reclaiming the edge of authority he carried so effortlessly.
"Finish your meal," he said, voice steady again. "We'll talk afterward. There are things you need to know… about me, about this place, and about what you've just entered."
Her stomach twisted in anticipation. This world… this man… it's more than I expected. And somehow, she realized, she didn't want to turn back.
The office was quiet, the lingering aroma of the meal hanging between them. He leaned against the desk, watching her carefully, his posture relaxed but controlled, every movement precise.
"Listen carefully," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "This house… my family… they have rules. You'll follow mine first."
She nodded, nerves coiling tight in her stomach.
"Speak only when spoken to, unless I say otherwise. Never touch anything without permission. Never leave the grounds unless accompanied. And… never forget your place. Not because I demand it… but because your survival depends on it."
Her gaze flicked to his, searching for any hint of jest. There was none. Only sharp, unflinching authority.
"You may think that sounds harsh," he continued, "but you'll find obedience here keeps you alive. And respect… respect keeps you safe from more than just my family."
She swallowed, nodding again, her fingers twisting slightly in her lap. Safe… She realized the word had never felt so important.
He stepped closer, stopping just short of her chair. The air between them seemed to vibrate with unspoken tension. "I will teach you more, when the time is right. But for now… this is enough. Absorb it. Remember it."
Then he turned, his sharp eyes scanning the room before they returned to her. "Come. It's time you saw your quarters."
...
Soon they were infront of her room.
Finally, he gestured toward the bed. "Rest here tonight. Tomorrow, you'll start learning the more… practical aspects of your life in this house."
She nodded, almost reverently, and he allowed her a small measure of privacy as she set down her new garments.
As he lingered at the door for a final glance, the tension between them was thick, unspoken but electric. Then, silently, he turned and left, the door closing behind him with a soft click that echoed in the quiet room.
Alone, she sank onto the bed, heart racing. This world… this man… it's more than I expected. And I can't help but feel… drawn to him.
...
The house fell silent after the last light faded, the distant chatter of servants swallowed by the long hallways. She lay beneath the soft sheets, wrapped in a warmth she had never known before. Her body was exhausted from the long day—her first day outside the sanctuary walls.
Sleep came slowly, heavy and restless, and when it did, it was shallow.
Somewhere in the depth of the night, she stirred. The air in the room felt… different. A quiet shift in weight pressed against the mattress, so soft it almost blended with the silence.
Her tired eyes fluttered halfway open, the world around her blurring. Something warm brushed against her side. Not cold. Not threatening. Warm. Solid.
And—fur?
Her fingers twitched instinctively, but sleep dragged her down again like a tide. A faint, low rumble—like a beast's quiet breathing—filled the space between her breaths. It was too heavy to be a dream.
A presence.
She didn't move. Couldn't. She just let her mind float in the strange warmth, half-conscious, half-dreaming. For the first time since being chosen, she wasn't shivering in fear. Her heartbeat steadied, lulled by the warmth beside her.
By morning, the room was bathed in golden light again. She blinked slowly, the fog of sleep peeling away.
Empty.
The space next to her was empty. No fur. No weight. No sound.
But as she shifted to sit up, a stray lock of black hair lay on her pillow. Dark. Silky. His.
Her chest tightened. He had been here. In her bed.
She picked up the hair between her fingers, staring at it for a long time. He came here… and I didn't even stop him.
But she couldn't stop him, could she? She belonged to him now. That was the truth burned into the bracelet around her wrist.
A quiet whisper filled her mind, unbidden: If he wanted to, he could have done more.
She sat still for a long moment, staring at the sunlight spilling across the room, feeling both trapped and strangely safe.
And deep inside, though she wouldn't say it aloud, the warmth from the night still lingered on her skin.