Apha Lord
"Her?"
"Yes, my Lord," Akir, my beta replied, handing me her file.
I crunch my nose slightly, eyes scanning the details. Such a weak princess for a wounded soldier like me. I can foresee problems already, stretching far beyond this moment.
"Must it be her, Akir?"
"Are you certain there is no one else who can…" I let the sentence trail, though I already know the answer.
"You have no other options, my Lord."
I raise an eyebrow. "And why is that?"
"The Silverthorne only has one daughter," Akir replied.
One.
"And they… they are willing to trade her to me?"
Akir nods. "Everything for the pack, my Lord. Everything."
I scan her face again. Such a delicate creature…
The thought intrigues me.
"What are you thinking, my lord?" Akir's voice is careful, the candlelight catching the worry in his eyes as he waits for my answer.
"I wonder," I say slowly, tasting the word, "if a woman like her could ever stand beside a man like me."
"You mean to make her Luna?"
"And other things," I answer.
A Luna to stand at my side, to bear my name, to rule as my equal in title, yet bound by law and oath…
Naomi. Naomi. Silverthorne.
I wonder.
At first, I had looked forward to meeting her—imagining her kneeling, fragile, obedient.
But then I saw her… climbing, running, testing boundaries. Running from me?
Amusement and irritation twist together in my chest.
Akir shifts beside me. "Shall we—"
"No," I interrupt, voice calm, but dark. "Let her try."
******
She's beautiful. And terrified of me.
What is it in those eyes?
A mixture of hatred, defiance, and fear.
I bled for this pack.
I conquered a war for you, Silverthorne — and yet you tremble as though I am the beast at your door.
Her fingers shake as she wrings out the cloth, crimson water dripping from it, and presses it to my skin. The scent of iron rises again, filling the chamber.
I hiss when she brushes a fresh wound. Instinctively, my hand snaps up, catching her wrist.
Naomi rattles, eyes widening, breath caught.
"I—I'm sorry."
I exhale, low, through my teeth. The pain in my ribs burns, but a crooked smile still finds its way to my face. "Sorry?" I echo, tilting my head, letting my voice slide into something almost amused. "You look as though I've bitten you."
She doesn't answer.
"Tell me, little Silverthorne…" My gaze drifts deliberately down, then back up to her pale, startled face. "Why are you still in your clothes?"
Her lips part. "What?"
"I told you," I say softly, voice like smoke curling under a door. "When I returned, I wanted you waiting for me."
She swallows hard, whispering, "You're hurt."
"Yes," I murmured. "I am hurt… so I deserve your tender touch, my love."
Naomi freezes, the cloth suspended over my skin. Her knuckles whiten around it. Slowly she says, "I hope you were killed."
She's so fun.
"Then you'll be a widow," I said.
I only met her for 72 hours now, but goddess, she's entertaining.
"You hate me for living," I say quietly. "But you'd hate me more if I was gone. And what happens then, hmm?"
"Then I'll be free."
I laugh, low and harsh. "Free?" I tilt my head, the predator in me surfacing. "If I die, Akir might take you. Or maybe my warriors will. You'll be fresh meat for them."
She looks so shocked with my words now. But I am telling her the truth.
"You'll be stripped of your title and the warriors can have you as their omega. Everyone will want a taste of a luna so it will be a bad deal for you if I die, my wife."
She looks so horrified.
After I claimed her in front of her pack and went back to save what remained in that place, I found her here in my own house.
I almost clap for her obedience.
I really never thought she'd be like this.
"Why…me?" She asked, trembling now. "You could've chosen any warrior's daughter, any willing she-wolf. Why me?"
I almost laugh.
Has she seen herself?
This woman is exquisite.
"Because it's you I want."
I rise, water running red around me. She stands frozen at the edge of the bath, eyes wide, hands clenched. "Come closer, Naomi."
She doesn't.
I sigh, sinking an elbow on the edge of the tub. "I fought a war today. I'm tired. Don't make me ask twice."
"You're bleeding," she murmurs.
"Then you'd better hurry before I die of it."
I won't really touch her. I just need someone to fool while I gather my thoughts on what to do with her.
Her pack lost a lot last night and I don't think it will be good for my reputation.
She gathers her skirts, hesitates, then finally slides into the bath beside me.
I could have every woman and yet, why would I want to keep this woman right here?
My wolf is confused too.
Something about her makes me…ache.
"Does it hurt?" she asks again, eyes darting on the scars on my upper torso.
I don't know how to answer that. No one's ever asked me that before.
Gently — almost without thinking — I reach for her hand. I guide her palm to my chest, right over one of the older wounds.
"This one," I murmur, my thumb still resting lightly over hers, "was from the northern campaign. Blade caught me just below the ribs."
She frowns, tracing the line with hesitant fingers. "It must've been deep."
"It was." I can't help a small, crooked smile. "They said I wouldn't make it through the night."
"You have so many scars, my lord."
My lord.
"I do," I answer, tone even. "Do they make you terrified of me?"
Her eyes flick up to mine. "More terrified, you mean?"
A small laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
"I… I… You threatened to slaughter my pack."
"So that's why you're scared of me?" I ask quietly.
Her jaw tightens. "You forced me to marry you."
That's true.
I do not apologize. I do not flinch. I simply look at her. "Is that why you tried to run from me?"
My words make her a quivering mess again. However… she is the only woman who trembles and still dares to meet my eyes.
Foolish. Brave.
Delicious.
Most wolves avert their gaze the moment I enter the room. Even Alphas lower their heads when my aura brushes them. But her?
She dares to look upon me as though I am some starving hound scratching at the gates of her sanctified hall.
As though I am unworthy of her.
"You should have let me go," she whispers, voice tight. "You would have been rid of me."
"Rid of you?"
I force her to look at me.
"I burned kingdoms to ash to claim what was mine," I murmur, inches from her lips. "Did you truly think I would let my own mate slip through my fingers?"
"I never wanted to be your mate."
"You think I wanted one?" I breathe. "I devoured fate the day I was born. I do not bow to bonds. I break them."
My thumb drags along her pulse. Her heartbeat stutters beneath my touch.
"Yet here you stand," I say softly, dangerously. "Bound to me. Wearing my name. Sleeping in my bed."
Her eyes burn. "Because you left me no choice."
A smile, cold and slow, curves across my lips.
"No," I correct. "Look at me." She resists. I tighten my hold. "Look. At. Me."
At last, her gaze meets mine—burning, proud, terrified.
Goddess, she is exquisite.
" I offered you a choice… and you chose me." My thumb presses beneath her jaw, forcing her chin higher. "This," I whisper, "is your choice. Me. This bond. This throne. This bed."
"I am your Alpha," I murmur, letting each word sink into her bones. "You are my Luna."
Her lips part—perhaps to defy me. I do not allow it. I claim her mouth before she can speak.
There is no law that says I must take a mate.
And yet—I have one. This one.
Because in order to be stronger I shall have her. I shall have a mate who bears the face of the only woman that I loved.