Mara's POV
I wake up with my wrist handcuffed to a bedpost.
The metal bites into my skin as I shake myself against it. The bed is massive, the sheets are silk, and every muscle in my body aches.
Memories from last night flood back, his hands on me, my nails down his back, the way he called my name in pleasure, when he finally forced it out of me.
I'm still wearing his shirt. Nothing else.
The bedroom door opens. Declan walks in wearing nothing but dress pants, his chest bare and covered in scratches I definitely put there. He is carrying a folder and a cup of coffee like this is a normal morning.
"Let me go right now." My voice comes out rough.
He sets the coffee on the nightstand, just out of my reach. "We need to talk first."
"There is nothing to talk about. Uncuff me or I will shift and tear your throat out, I promise you."
He sits on the edge of the bed, close enough that I can smell him, us, all over the sheets. "Your pack owes my company four million dollars. Did you know that?"
I feel sick hearing this. "That is a lie."
"It is not." He opens the folder and shows me documents. Real ones, with my father's signature at the bottom. Loans taken out six months before we lost everything. "Your father borrowed to try to save your territory. He defaulted. We foreclosed."
I stare at the numbers. Four million. We could never pay that back.
"But here is the interesting part," Declan continues, his finger tracing down the page. "He used your family as collateral. Your mother. Your brother." His eyes meet mine. "Even you."
"You are insane. That is not legally binding."
"In human courts? No, in pack law?" He smiles. "Very binding my darling. I own your family's debt, which means I own you."
I lunge at him. The handcuff jerks me back and pain shoots through my wrist. He doesn't even flinch.
"I have a proposal." He pulls out another document. "Be my contracted mate for six months. Appear at events, live here, play the role. At the end, I will forgive the entire debt. Your family walks away free."
"Go to hell."
He reaches into the folder again and pulls out photographs. My brother Marcus leaving his apartment. My mother at the grocery store. Time-stamped from yesterday.
"Option two," Declan says quietly. "I report that Mara Thorne has been living under a fake identity, Mara for five years. You could be charged for identity fraud. Your entire pack gets investigated, deported and the debt still stands."
My wolf snarls inside me. I want to rip the smug look off his face. "You are blackmailing me."
"I'm offering you a solution and I advise you take it." He sets the contract on the bed between us. "Six months. Then you never have to see me again."
I read through it with my free hand. It is airtight. Appear as his mate at all public functions. Live in his residence. Submit to…
"Submit to bonding rituals?" I look up. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like." His hand moves to my thigh, thumb stroking over the silk shirt. "The public will expect us to act like mates. That means I touch you. You touch me. We look convincing."
"This is sick."
"This is business." But his hand is moving higher, and his eyes have that wolf glow again. "Sign it, Mara."
I spit at him again. It hits his chest this time.
He moves so fast I do not have time to react. He is on top of me, one hand pinning both of mine above my head, his body between my thighs. The handcuff chain rattles against the bedpost.
"You keep doing that," he growls against my neck, "and I'm going to treat you like making me angry."
"I like watching you pretend you are in control." I arch up against him, feeling exactly how not in control he is. "The bond is eating you alive, isn't it? You want to keep me but you hate that you want it."
His hand wraps around my throat. Not choking, just holding. Claiming. "Sign the contract."
"Make me."
He reaches over, grabs the pen from the nightside table, and presses it into my free hand. "Sign it or I make a phone call and your brother gets picked up by immigration in the next hour."
My hand shakes as I press the pen to paper. I want to stab him with it. Instead, I sign my name.
"Good girl," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on mine.
I drop the pen and kiss him back with all the hatred burning through my veins. His hand releases my throat and moves down, pushing up the shirt I'm wearing. The handcuff rattles as I grab his hair and pull hard enough to hurt.
He groans and presses me into the mattress. "Six months," he says against my lips.
"Six months," I agree. "And then I am gone."
"We will see."
He reaches up and unlocks the handcuff. My wrist is free for exactly two seconds before he is dragging me onto his desk in the corner of the room, scattering papers everywhere.
The contract flutters to the floor as he lifts me onto the wood and steps between my legs.
This time when he takes me, I make sure he bleeds.