14

CHAPTER 14: Who’s The Villain Now?

If someone was afraid of the stories meant to make them stronger, more alert and less susceptible to the acts of incredibly cruel violence, that someone was the someone written, or familiar with fear. It’s like neglect and abuse in a child, made to be afraid just to be stronger, whether emotionally or physically, those who did the abuse intended to make the person they inflicted it on stronger. It’s the worst way to go about it. It’s the most disgusting, heart-wrenching way. Martin ignores me for the long ride after we received confirmation from the very elders that were joiningthe route to the main court, the capital for the tournament of the highest of ranks among werewolf clans.

“We need to talk.” Martin says next to me.

“Want to call me the villain in this relationship again?” I ask him, bitter from his words. I knew the devils of this world. He had a streak, but he was strategic and careful and I knew I was playing with fire, but I found I cherished the flame more than my wolf. It’s why conversations between my wolf and I never came about, why the mindlink isn’t always so effective for me because it feels defective. I feel at a loss with it, like focusing too hard on it isn’t worth it any longer. I’m not dormant. But I’m not as capable in my wolf form as say...Martin the Moron is.

“I don’t like that name and in the heat of the moment, I had to use the word you continuously use to describe me. You humiliated me and my kin in those courts we’re headed to now, do you not think this makes me want to turn the car around? Not look at all the alphas who know who we are, not from a title or leadership role, but because you are one of the first Luna’s to reject her Mate. Her alpha mate.” He emphasises.

I stare out the window, “I didn’t want you. I made it clear. Is that a crime?” I didn’t like what and who he stood for. Perhaps being a Julius is safer than being the heir to the Darkling throne. Not only that, the Lost King of the Lycanthrope Kingdom. It made the feeling of what I did more potent. Why reject a king, might one ask? Why reject a domineering man like that? A man of power, stability, looks, and mind.

I stare into silver eyes, “That’s not a good enough answer.” He grits his teeth next to me.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I don’t care for your money, power or title. Even now that I know the truth of it, the real truth of your blood. Any other woman can bow at your feet and bare your newborns, I’d rather sit in the pits of hell.” I mutter, waving him off, he captures my wrist in a tight grip and gets right in my face.

“That can be arranged.” He sneers.

I search those silver irises, “You cannot make someone love you.”

“That’s the whole point of staying with someone, to see if they will learn to like you and then learn to love you, but you’re stubborn enough to deem me unlovable.” He shoves my wrist away, the grip tense and tight and still there even when he doesn’t touch me. He rubs his hand, looking out the window while he tries to remove the...supposedly heart-melting sparks I’m supposed to feel, yet I don’t.

“Probably because you’re not as connected with your wolf as you should be.” He answers my thoughts yet again, he turns to me, “And for the last time, sparks are not everything, you childish pain-in-my-arse!”

I blink, wiping droplets of his spit from my face.

He stares at me long and hard, like his own gaze can cement me to the ground and drown me in the earth just to teach me a life long lesson about companionship, compromise and respect, “You do need a lesson on those things.”

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

He gives me a low look, “It is not my fault you need to learn them, being a couple helps you improve the other.” He explains.

“You got experience in that?” I ask him.

“Why is it so goddamn hard to have a civil conversation with you?” He reeks of anger, frustration and arousal. I turn my nose away, I hate it when he gets aroused merely from an argument. Does that not in itself show a bad sign? Does it not flare the red alert or dangle a red flag anywhere? It should. It’s dangerous, I know it is.

I didn’t want to be civil.

I didn’t want to have conversations with a beast who won’t loosen his jaw from my throat or remove that incessant, numbing leash he keeps around me. Tight and close. Anchored to him in a way that I felt shoulder-deep in a royal darkness I never wanted to float in, in the first place.

He stares at me.

Fuck. I was too focused in my own thoughts of his metaphorical nooses around my neck to see him studying me, “I know you don’t understand what love is and why it’s vital between two people, sometimes more for those who accept others too, but...you have no idea how to embrace any sorts of it...do you?” He has the audacity to ask when it’s clear he’s made up his mind, when it’s clear he has his answer.

I still remember what it felt like to be dunked in snow.

To be left on the side of the road as punishment for not wanting to be leashed. I’ve seen what uncontrollable alphas do to their women when the audience is turned off, when no one is looking, when no one can guess or see the bruises and marks women of this status must deal with. My bruises healed. From the bear. From the cage. From his grips every time he wants to touch me, in some of the angriest of ways. I’ve seen it can break someone in more ways than one. How it can drown them in their own mind like one can drown in their own blood. It oozes in and out, contracting a dead host the way the heart pumps blood.

He faces forward, “We need to go over a few things when we get there.” He murmurs.

I don’t say anything.

“I said, we need to go over a few things when we get there.” He repeats more harshly.

“What are those things?” I drag out each word.

He’s tense beside me, “We need to produce or at least express that the rejection was a first impression confusion, that we have learned more about each other, that we’re trying and that we are falling in love.” He says to me.

I look at him, “How do you propose we do that, master?”

“Don’t fucking give me attitude. You started this, you put us both in this fucking position and I will show the clans that while my mate is young, foolish and stubborn to the point where this could be comical in the future when right now it makes me want to rip my ears off and eyes out just for a different kind of pain than the one you elicit. But we need a plan, we need to show that we are United in one front.” He explains to me in that political manner he appears to be good at. Sometimes.

I look over his profile, “Fake it till we leave?”

He purses his lips, “Yes.”

“Because that’s what every women must do. Don’t worry, I know what faking it looks like.” I tell him, truthfully.

He stares at me, “Is some of it not real for you?”

I trail my eyes to the window, where only one word spreads across my mind, freedom. I wanted freedom. The council. My life...I almost lost the true meaning of the word until I dreamt of it, until I dreamt of some sort of dark creature talking to me when Martin locked me in that cage. Because he couldn’t control his wolf. Who knows what will happen when he still can’t control himself, when the numerous bites he left on me aren’t enough. When a forced bond isn’t enough.

A hand holds mine, “Look at me, Celestine.”

I look at him just so he doesn’t forcefully turn my head himself.

His hands grip mine, “I will never cage you again,”He’s a lying scumbag, “—I will never abuse you, and I’m sorry for the times I have,”That’s what they all say, “—I just need you to open up more,”Because that’s always so easy, “—I need to be looked at like someone wants me, you know,”And now the demands, “—I need a warmth that won’t fuse third degree burns, not only on my skin, but in our minds. You can connect with me, you can talk and speak your mind, but not in ways that we’re made to turn me down, Celestine.” He pleads.

I just stare at him.

I didn’t want what he did. Why couldn’t he feel it? I had to give him intimacy to get answers. The rejection—I couldn’t explain it, it was instinctual. I felt right when I did it, I’m not just a teenager, I’m not just a girl who is just afraid of being assaulted by him, there was something that ran a different path. A more destructive one and I knew I needed to take the destructive path rather than the easy one. The easy one led to me giving in to him. In ways I wasn’t ready for, in ways I couldn’t say No to because he has rights to. That’s what being part of a bond in the werewolf species means. That once accepted, once infiltrated, it’s done. There’s no U-turns, there’s no reversing in time or in the moment. If commitment, stability and order is what one wants, then go for it. But being a queen in this time only meant serving the king and making certain he’s calm when he needs to be, gets a release when he needs it. Men can sleep around as much as they want before ever meeting their mate and they’ll lie about it to their female just to ensure that female focuses only on him, not his past lovers that look his way during mating balls. Not his past spontaneous adventures he had before thin down to someone more permanent.

Women must be pure. Must be innocent. It pisses off a male if the female has had another lover or lovers. It angers them and torments them into abusive behaviour, even after marriage or the birth of children. It plagues them. They spin on the negative and they use their physique to better the so-called inferior species.

And Martin has done that to me. He’s danced with another woman to what? Make me jealous in plain sight? He’s shown he’s stronger. He’s shown his power and his control.

Why am I looked at like the bad guy? Because none of his kin has seen what’s behind closed doors. When the lights go out. Where the screams are and who’s choking those screams. Who’s locking those cages. Who’s negotiating what for something that should be natural when it isn’t.

They say acceptance is the key here.

It was a man who wrote that quote.

It was men who lived by it with women.

But not in war, man against man, not. In. War.

There is no acceptance, there’s rules and regulations on territories. On battlefields. In courtrooms and ballrooms, in how to walk, talk, eat with your mouth closed, show a challenge but don’t ever,evershow domination. Not if you want to feel the wrath of man when challenged.

Martin wanted compromise, he wanted reason and respect and loyalty and he was willing to fake it in fear for what other clans think about a female making the first rejection, that she’s at fault here, that she had no reason, no level of understanding from anyone in her decision, in her voice. She was shut down, her voice did not matter here because he still took what he wanted. He still took me. No matter how unfair most think I am, how irresponsible it is to reject a man who is so-called trying. He wants something from me and it’s not love. My gut is telling me it isn’t. It’s something else.

People expect that he’s tamed me.

That’s what he wants.

His mate to be tamed, reshaped and perfect.

Loyalty was a one-way street here.

“The tabloids are exploding with news of the first alphas who made it there.” Reina says. Only now piping up because they were seated silently in front of us. Holding their own devices, looking through social media like addicted humans on TikTok.

A hand slides through mine. He holds my hand tightly in his lap as we pass those in the entry to the grand city. Crowds of people waving on streets because they’re so excited to see Alphas across the world, across continents and culture and customs to come here for these ridiculous tournaments.

He wanted to tame me.

Martin suddenly slices a line through my hand, peeling skin, I gasp in horror, “What the hell?” I breathe out at the sudden pain, he slices through his palm before I can heal and he cups our bloodied hands together. Forcing our blood to mix. He inhales and deeply exhales with a slow smile dazzling his lips, sparkling his eyes.

“What was that for?” I spit at him.

“Strengthens the bond enough for my wolf to control your emotions.” He means tame them.

“Why?” I growl.

His silver irises penetrate my deep green ones, “Because I will not tolerate a child’s mind, let alone the expressions she wears on her face, the clear emotions on her sleeve. You’ll do what I say, or training will become intriguingly difficult for you.” He threatens.

He read my thoughts.

By the looks of it, he read every word and memorised it.

I rip my hand from his as Robert throws me a cloth to clean the dried one flakes at the edges and the wet closer to the middle. I wash the blood away, glaring at the man next to me who stares at the skyscrapers the vehicle passes by in remote silence and a cold stoic expression that dampens the atmosphere. I rub my hand, knowing it’s all I could do as we drive towards a humming nation of towers used for the clans attending. Which was all of them, across every nation. The car is checked under security measures, I sit still.

Almost hold my breath. I knew this, this was protocol.

It also meant walking into the lion’s den with my head held high next to a beast I wish I’d never known. We drive in with the two other vehicles of company joining Martin. My bags are carried for me as we step into the foyer and lounge area. I saw another female there, a Beta female with her skin pale and...marred, but from old scars.

She stood beside her male, not behind him like I had to with Martin when we walked in. Robert was closest to Martin as they stepped to the main receptionist welcoming each clan in with a bright smile, but it looked cold and calculating. Nothing so genuine. Behind her was a ranking system of the top clans.

The very top.

In order.

The Darkling Clan.

The Julius Clan.

The Maximilian Clan.

The Collins Clan.

The Klein Clan.

The Marcel Clan.

There was a line through the Darkling clan. I almost wanted to laugh at the elimination of it. Martin looked at it for a second, before smiling politely at the clerk who blushes bright all of a sudden.

I meet the pale blue eyes of the Beta female, “If you’re sweet and shy, it loosens the blow.” I hear behind me, and see Alpha Serena Collins, of the Collins clan. Her cheeks coloured and caked in make-up with a beautiful blue gown on. I knew her from one of my lectures in high school. She spoke in the biology department.

I look in her eyes while Reina bows. Martin turns with a key card and a folder, as does Robert.

Serena studies me, not either of them, “I recognise you.” She says to me.

I sigh, “From a lecture at the local high school,” I tell her, looking back to the pale Beta, as she treads behind her Beta male, he’s large, stomping towards...Elster clan, led by Melody and Emerson Elster. A rich, but lawfully dumb clan. The leaders of it at least.

“Fascinating. Ah, you are paired with the infamous Martin Julius, how grand?” She smiles, smiling softly as she looks to him and I look between them. Martin’s polite smile dimmed as he looks to her closely. Eyes narrowed in an astute manner. I smelt or rather scented a strange tangerine scent on her, and I still when I recognise that it’s her arousal as she looks at him. Before I see Alpha Houston Collins step in and wrap an arm around her, she looks to him with eyes glazed over and kiss longingly in front of us.

I stare at her hand, before she reaches to his chest, running her nails down, “Alpha Martin, you’ve met Alpha Houston of our house.” She likes to call clans ‘houses’ now. To change it up, to be different, to stand in the spotlight, even for a minuscule moment.

Martin bows his head professionally as Houston does the same, before they clamp hands in a grand shake, “Alpha Martin, it’s been too long, old friend.” There’s an undertone of something in Alpha Houston’s voice that made me look to him. He doesn’t bother with me. He doesn’t look at me when Martin vaguely mentions me, before Robert and Reina shake hands with Houston.

I watch Serena lean her head on his shoulder warmly, her back looking to be in an interesting angle as those behind her ogle her arse. Even a few of Martin’s disgusting enforcers do that, but they try to be subtle about it, “Tell me, have you finally fucked her into submission?” Houston chuckles hard, pointing to me. I feel my nostrils flare.

I look to the amber eyes now penetrating mine at the change in atmosphere, “Something to say, Luna?” He won’t grace me with my name. Arrogant bastard is what he was, I imagined killing him slowly for his choice of words.

Martin studies me, “We don’t like to refer to it as fucking, Alpha Houston. But no, not yet.” What the gigantic fuck made it anyone’s business? I look at Martin with eyes of disbelief.

He gives me a pointed look, while Houston chuckles like a man drunk on whiskey, Serena smiles, “Sorry, dear, sometimes he can be vulgar in his choice of words. Join the woman and myself for tea later, we’re having a stroll through the gardens, I imagine you’d quite like that given the snowstorms you get on Julius. That must be hard to get use to.” She speaks to me now.

I glare at her mate, “I don’t go outside.” I don’t get to go outside is what I wanted to say.

“Surely she’s kept comfortable inside?” Alpha Houston scoffs in question.

“Surely you’re comfortable with losing your tongue?” I ask him.

Silence echoes.

Serena stills in sudden shock at my words. Houston snaps his eyes to me now, furrowing them, “I beg your pardon?”

I step forward, “I’m telling you to stop running your mouth and show respect. I don’t care what you fucking are, you’ve disrespected a woman, I won’t tolerate it. Alpha Martin can slap me as punishment for it later, since it’s what they do, but for now, shove your tongue down your throat and look at that ranking board over there.” I point at the board of clan names, shoving my shoulder into his and finding dignity in his grunt as I strut past them.

I was already hating this place and we hadn’t even been here an hour yet.