Chapter 4
- Jaxon's POV
- “I’d rather take my chances with Vance than walk down an aisle toward a literal monster!” she protested, her voice cracking. “Did you see his eyes? They were literally glowing gold! He’s a Tyrant!”
- “He is the Alpha of Alphas,” Kaelen corrected sharply. “And right now, he is your only shield. Drink the medicine, Rhea. The bridal stylists are waiting outside, and the High Council elders have already arrived in the chapel.”
- Kaelen held out the silver vial containing the amber liquid. She stared at it, her breath catching in her throat. I watched her body language closely, her instincts were screaming at her to bolt, to scale the stone walls and disappear into the misty pine forests. But she was smart. She knew the perimeter was locked down.
- “If I die today, Kaelen,” she whispered, snatching the silver bottle from his hand, “I will haunt you for the rest of your miserable life.”
- She uncorked the vial and tipped it back. I watched as her body shuddered, absorbing the liquid fire. Instantly, the heavy, dominant, suffocating scent of Lady Vivienne Moretti erupted from her pores again, wrapping around her like an invisible suit of iron armor.
- “Bring in the stylists,” she said, her voice instantly dropping back into that cold, haughty, artificial register. “Let’s get this nightmare over with.”
- I stepped back into the shadows as Kaelen let the stylists in, satisfied that she was staying put. For now.
- *****
- When the heavy velvet drapes of the dressing room finally parted, I was waiting.
- The stylists gasped, dropping their tools and bowing low as they scrambled out of the room like frightened mice under the weight of my presence.
- I stood behind her, watching her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was a ghost painted in white silk and diamonds. The wedding gown was a masterpiece of high-society torture, the corset laced so tight she could barely draw a full breath. A diamond necklace sat heavy against her collarbone.
- “You look like a proper royal bride,” I said, walking slowly into the room. My footsteps made no sound against the thick carpet.
- “Is that a compliment, Alpha Jaxon?” she asked. She kept her back perfectly straight as she turned around to face me, pushing her fake, heavy Alpha aura out to clash against the sheer, crushing weight of my genuine dominance. “Or are you just checking to see if your investment has run away yet?”
- I stopped just two feet away from her, completely blocking out the light from the dressing room lamps. “If you ran, Rhea, you wouldn't make it past the tree line. My wolves are hungry today.”
- “My name is Vivienne,” she reminded me, her voice dripping with the fake arrogance Kaelen had drilled into her. “You had better get used to saying it if we are going to fool the High Council elders in five minutes.”
- I let out a low, dangerous chuckle. Reaching out, my large hand slipped under her lace veil. My rough fingers brushed against her cheek, and the moment our skin connected, a sudden, jolting spark of electricity shot straight up my arm. Her inner wolf whimpered inside her, not in fear, but in a strange, intoxicating submission.
- “Don't use that fake voice with me when we are alone, little bird,” I whispered, leaning dangerously close to her face. “I know exactly what is hiding underneath all this silk. I know you are bleeding inside.”
- “I’m not bleeding,” she snapped, clenching her fists so hard her nails cut into her palms through her lace gloves. “I’m surviving. There’s a difference.”
- “We will see how well you survive the bonding ritual,” I said, my golden eyes narrowing as I looked down at her neck. “The High Priest will demand that I taste your scent directly from your scent gland to verify the alliance. If the elixir falters for even a second under his gaze, the executioners will draw their silver swords before we can leave the altar.”
- I saw her entire posture freeze. “Kaelen didn't tell me about a taste test.”
-
- “Kaelen doesn't know everything about high-society rituals,” I murmured, my thumb tracing the sharp, delicate line of her jaw. “But I do. When the priest commands it, I will bite your neck, Rhea. I will take your blood into my mouth. If your blood tastes like a street Omega instead of a royal Alpha, the spell is broken.”
- Panic, cold and absolute, washed over the fake Alpha aura she was projecting. “Then cancel it! Tell them I’m sick! Tell them the Moretti family demands a private ceremony!”
- “It’s too late for excuses,” I said, tightening my grip on her jaw slightly, forcing her to look directly at me. “The elders are already seated. The doors are opening. You wanted a million dollars, street girl? This is where you earn it. Look at me.”
- She stared up into my eyes, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
- “When we walk out there, you are my equal,” I commanded, letting my voice fill with the absolute power of my Alpha rank, leaving no room for her to refuse. “You look the High Priest in the eye, you hold your head high, and you let me do what needs to be done. Do you understand me, Rhea?”
- She swallowed hard, fighting the massive lump of terror in her throat. The fake Alpha scent from the elixir flared one last time, anchoring her fraying nerves.
- “I understand,” she whispered.
- I nodded, a dark, satisfied look settling into my chest. I dropped my hand from her face and offered her my large, broad arm. “Then let’s go show the world my new Luna.”