Chapter 3 Not His Mate

• Elara POV
• I woke to pain and confusion. My clothes were stiff, dried hard onto my body, and saturated with blood and mud. The air was frigid, the darkness absolute, pressing down on my chest like a physical weight. Every muscle in my body protested as I tried to shift, the coppery stench of blood—my aunt’s, the pack’s, my own…clinging to the fabric.
• It was a nightmare, I told myself, clutching at the hope. It had to be.
• But the cold, hard stone beneath me and the echo of the Alpha’s brutal voice in my mind quickly confirmed the horrifying reality. My home was gone. My family was gone. I was captured by a ruthless, mad Alpha and locked away.
• I tried to shout, to curse, to plead, but my voice was a hoarse, painful rasp. Likewise, I had no strength left. The air was still and stale, the smell of blood overwhelming.
• The metallic sound of a heavy bolt being drawn shattered the silence. The outer metal door creaked open, admitting a blinding, brutal ray of light. I squeezed my eyes shut, whimpering from the sudden sensory overload. I tried to sit up, my vision swimming, and immediately fell with a sharp, dull thud.
• I heard the heavy, rhythmic footsteps approach…a sound of immense size and indifferent power. Before I could even raise my guard, large, coarse hands grabbed my arms, yanking me up to my feet with a careless disregard for my pain.
• “Argh!” I gasped, fighting to scream, but only a desperate sound escaped.
• The two men who held me were massive. They didn't speak; they simply dragged me, pulling me along cold, narrow corridors. We turned several corners and ascended several flights of stairs until the atmosphere abruptly changed.
• We entered a different wing of the fortress, vast and luxurious. The stench of dead meat and blood gave way to the expensive, rich scent of sandalwood, leather, lavender, and exotic flowers. I was no longer in a dungeon; I was in the heart of the monster's lair.
• The journey ended abruptly. With a careless shove, I was tossed onto the cold, polished marble floor of a massive, opulent hall. I landed with a painful thud, the impact momentarily stealing my breath.
• I slowly regained my bearings, lifting my aching head. The sight before me sent a familiar, icy chill down my spine. The room was dominated by a large, carved throne, and positioned around it were several dangerous-looking, high-ranking Silver-Moon men, their faces grim and expectant. And at the center of it all, slowly turning from the window, was the Alpha.
• I dropped my gaze immediately, my vision swimming with rage. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. It was the monster before me. The man who had extinguished my life.
• “Before everyone,” Alpha Fenris spoke, his voice low, commanding, and radiating an authority so absolute it demanded obedience, “is my heir’s vessel… the female fated to carry my heir.”
• The words, heir’s vessel,— burned hotter than any curse. I had grown to despise that dark, effortless tone of absolute power. I was not a woman, not a Luna, not even a prisoner. I was an object, a function, a necessary sacrifice.
• Fenris took two deliberate, heavy steps toward me, his shadow falling over my broken figure. He stopped just inches away. I could feel the heat radiating off his massive body, the raw dominance of his scent making my wolf, still deep inside me, recoil and whimper.
• He knelt, his silver eyes cold and hard as obsidian, forcing me to meet his gaze. He didn't dare touch me, for he viewed me as a disgusting female. I was filthy in his eyes, a slave he got for his amusement.
• “You will obey. You will submit. And you will bear my son.” He muttered in a deadly tone; his sharp eyes were piercing and held rage and power. His hand, large and calloused, clamped onto my jaw, tilting my face up until our eyes were locked. The Mate Bond shrieked under his touch, forcing a desperate, involuntary shiver of something that was not hatred through my body. I fought it, fought the shame, and fought the submission. I looked at the face that had haunted my every waking nightmare—the face of my family's killer, the face of my tyrant.
• Not only that, but I wrenched my jaw from his grasp, forcing the raw words past my ruined throat, every syllable laced with the purest hatred I possessed.
• “A pathetic little thing…a worthless slave…you should be honored to carry my heir,” he lamented as his hold on my jaw tightened. I swore he'd snap my face in half in a split second.
• “I may be your captive,” I spat, meeting his icy stare with a blazing fury that surprised him, “but I will never be yours.” He didn't flinch. Instead, a dangerous, possessive smirk returned, one that promised retribution and dominion. He leaned in close, his breath a chilling whisper against my ear.
• “Oh, little wolf. You already are.”
• He stood, towering over me, a god in his own bloody domain. The finality of his claim settled over me, heavy and suffocating. I crumpled back onto the marble, the truth echoing in the silent, terrifying space between us:
• I was not a woman; I was bound to be the Dark Alpha’s vessel, and the only reason I lived was to be broken down and rebuilt in his image.
• I had to escape!