Page 5 of Alpha's Chosen Mate (Wolf Billionaire #2)

CHAPTER 5

LEILANI

N o, we didn’t.

I’ve repeated those words to myself for the past hour since a handful of maids stormed into my room to prepare me for an event they won’t tell me shit about. They yank my hair in different directions, pluck my skin free of hair, dust my face with powder and makeup, and now I can’t fucking breathe because a corset is digging into my ribs.

“Watch it,” I hiss when Enya pulls the tie so harshly that my belly cramps. “Is this even necessary?”

"You’re the luna," Enya says, like that’s stupid question. I yelp when the teeth of a comb dig too deeply into my scalp. “You must look your best.”

“No one even wears corsets anymore! And my hair looks better when it’s straight!”

“There’s not much difference between this one and a wild boar,” Enya says under her breath, and the maids chuckle. My retort is cut off as she wrenches the last tie closed, bringing the dress together.

I won’t deny it. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. I hate that my fingers run along the silver embroidery adorning silk so black it seems to absorb light. My waist is nearly nonexistent, but I appreciate how the corset defines the flare of my hips and adds more cleavage to my smaller-than-average breasts.

Most werewolves are built tall, lean, and lithe. I’m different. Men turn their heads when I walk by because they’re trying to decide where to look: my face, my too-slim waist, or my ass. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Asher had this dress tailor-made after seeing me naked, to emphasize every dip and curve I’ve hidden under baggy slacks and tops over the years. The neckline is a daring plunge framed by stunning black lace that caresses the swell of my breasts.

The skirts of the gown are even more dramatic, cascading in soft layers to the floor. I’ve never worn anything like this. I look regal… royal . I stare at my reflection in the mirror as a lock of my hair falls against my cheek, curled beautifully like the rest. I watch Enya scowl as she fixes the rest of my mane into a classic updo that I would have considered too extravagant for a wedding.

I meet Enya’s gaze in the mirror. “We must have important guests. Care to tell me who Asher wants me looking this way for?”

Again, she shoots me a look that makes me feel stupid. “Things are different here, luna.” When Enya calls me luna, it’s with open mockery, like I don’t deserve the title. Frankly, I agree with her. Goddess knows the more I stare at myself, I don’t even think I deserve to wear the black earrings that look as expensive as my entire inheritance. “The Dark Moon Pack is by far the biggest and most affluent, with more connections to the humans and the riches that come with such connections. These things you consider too lavish don’t even make a dent in the alpha’s wealth. Nothing we do here is simple.”

She stands in front of me as she focuses on painting my lips a temptingly dark shade of red. “Don’t worry. You’ll understand when you attend dinner.” Her gaze meets mine and she smiles ruefully, looking pleased with her work. “You look less...wretched. He’ll be pleased.”

Coming from Enya, that’s a huge compliment.

My fingers touch the dress once more. I can’t help it. It’s so beautiful. “Asher...” I say breathlessly. “He likes this?”

Enya eyes me with disdain. “Not you, I promise. He likes his women blonde and reserved.”

That comment has no business making my heart squeeze, much less making me feel something as ugly and horrid as jealousy. I know I shouldn’t, but my gaze moves from Enya’s blonde hair to the other maids adding finishing touches to my ensemble. They’re hiding their mocking smiles behind wisps of clearly dyed blonde hair. How many of them know of Asher’s sexual prowess?

Before I can think about that for long, someone knocks. A deep, calming voice resonates from the other side. “This is Beta Talon, luna. I’m here to bring you to dinner.”

Oh cool, I get an escort. “Come right in,” I say dryly. “We’re having a hell of a party in here.”

A soft, raspy chuckle is my only response before the door opens and I’m greeted with the sight of...a dashing stud. Intense brown eyes meet mine...and hold. He has an aura about him that’s dark and mysterious, not nearly as much as Asher’s, but it has enough potential to be a close second. The difference here? His beta’s eyes aren’t cut from pure ice, and he doesn’t seem hell-bent on destroying me.

Beta Talon crosses the room, making it seem absurdly smaller. When he gives me his hand, I take it and let him pull me to my feet. He stares at me then, from the crown of my fiery curls to the hem of the dress pooling around my feet. For a second, I swear I see his gaze heat, but it’s gone too fast for me to be sure.

“You’re taller than I imagined.”

I grin, raising the hem of my skirts in an unladylike manner, and his brows rise with mirth at the sight of the six-inch-tall heels. “Can you walk in those?”

I tentatively take his arm. “Only if you promise not to let go of me. Though, I’m sure everyone here would love it if I fell down the stairs and broke my neck.”

Talon leads me out of the room without a response, and tension rolls off him as we reach the steps, like he’s remembered he shouldn’t be speaking to the enemy.

I hear the guards following close behind us. I wonder if this will be my life from now on, being followed everywhere, even if there’s no chance I’ll be able to escape. Playing dress-up and attending events I have no interest in for the rest of my existence sounds miserable, but I guess it’s better than being holed up in that room, wearing chains and dreaming about Asher.

I swear whenever I think of him, all I see are my thighs spread on the edge of the bed and his fingers hooking inside me. Even now, my insides tighten at the thought of it. I hope Beta Talon doesn’t catch a whiff of my sudden arousal .

If he does, he shows no sign of it, focusing on bringing me down the steps slowly. An uncomfortable question grows inside me, and before I can stamp it down, I find myself saying, “Is he going to kill me?”

Talon refuses to look at me. “Not yet.”

I know he wants me dead, but my blood still runs cold hearing it confirmed. My fingers tighten their grip on Talon’s gray jacket as we take another step down, closer to the sound of the music, closer to Asher and whatever lies in wait for me. “And you would let him kill an innocent for no reason? Wasn’t forcing me into this marriage unjust enough?”

The beta’s head whips to face me and his eyes are suddenly stormy. “Unjust?” he echoes. “You should take that up with your father, Leilani Stone. Ask daddy dearest why you have to suffer for his actions. Ask him if it was unjust to massacre a pack of peaceful people in their sleep, giving them no chance to fight back.”

My eyes widen and I let go of him. “My father would never?—”

“My brother was five,” is all he says to me. His eyes are cold as he roughly grabs my arm and drags me down the steps with him. Every trace of warmth is gone, and in its wake is anger and hate so deep, it brings tears to my eyes.

“You’re hurting me,” I tell him as we reach the base of the stairs. Talon doesn’t let me go until we reach a set of large double doors.

I don’t need to see Asher to know that he’s on the other side of them. Something inside me froths at the mouth at the thought of seeing him, and my fingers twitch with need. I resist the urge to clamp my thighs together. I can’t feel like this about someone who wants to kill me.

The guards on either side of the door nod in deference to their beta, and I don’t miss the fact that they barely acknowledge my presence. I might as well be a painting on the wall, but that’s not entirely a bad thing. I’d take a cold shoulder over the sneering hate the maids threw at me earlier.

The doors open and Beta Talon shoves me inside a hall decorated in such a grandiose manner that my mouth falls open. I knew it would be different from the small hall in my father’s home. That was a cozy place, where I wore oversized pajamas and ate my mother’s cooking. Beta Morris gave reports while his wife, Leah, and my mother gossiped about how to have their mates all to themselves. Our house was so relaxed that when Mom whacked Dad in the head with her spoon for calling her porridge too salty, Gamma Patrick burst into laughter.

But this is more than a formal dinner, it’s a...revel. The scent of expensive cologne and fine wine mingle, making me dizzy, and the low hum of conversation is punctuated by clinking glasses and silverware. Gowns shimmer under blindingly bright lights, accompanied by tailored suits of all imaginable colors. The table that runs through the center of the hall is topped with a feast that would feed my entire pack for two months.

I must be pretty late, since everyone is settled in, their wineglasses either almost empty or being refilled by the maids. The food remains untouched, as though they await the alpha’s approval to dine.

One clumsy step forward draws several sets of eyes to me. One I recognize for his cunning ruthlessness, the other...a shade of amber I could never forget .

On one end of the table sits Asher, the heavy weight of his stare coasting down my body so hot it feels like he’s branding me as he toys with the butter knife.

On the other end is my father, his eyes livid, yet relieved.

“Leilani,” he whispers, rising to his feet.

Tears rush to my eyes and I don’t realize I’m walking toward my father’s waiting arms until a single word snaps at me, grabbing me like a leash.

“Wife.”

I halt mid-stride. My skin flares with heat as I turn to meet Asher’s dark gaze. He leans back in his chair and flicks his knife once. “Come sit.”

My gaze travels around the table. There are no free seats around him, thank Goddess. The guests stare at us, sipping from their wineglasses as they watch the drama unfold. I find the empty seat farthest from Asher and closest to my father. It’s right beside...well, fuck me, Beta Manuel. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice him before, but I’ll take him over the unhinged predator watching me like I’m his most fascinating plaything.

One step in that direction and my husband lets out a displeased tsk . I absolutely abhor the way his every move has me on edge—scared and attracted to him at the same time.

“Not there.” I stare at him as he manspreads and pats his right thigh. “Here. Now.”

The retort is past my lips before I think about the consequences. “The fuck I will.”

See, the thing about Asher is he can’t be bothered with being denied what he wants. It isn’t that he’s arrogant or overconfident—it’s that “no” is simply not an option .

I don’t even see him move. I just hear the whirring of a blade as the butter knife he’s been toying with whizzes past my father's ear, nicking him and drawing blood. I scream and run for my father, who seems more rattled than I’ve ever seen him. His chest heaves as he touches his ear and stares at his bloody fingers.

“Leilani,” Asher says, stopping me dead in my tracks. A single tear rolls down my cheek. “Come here.”

Lowering my head and squashing my pride, I do his bidding. I know that if he aimed for my father’s head, he’d be suffering worse than just a scratch. Fists clenched, I take a headcount of the guards here, separating my father’s pack from Asher’s, and it’s a ratio of one to ten. If Asher wants my father dead, all he needs to do is give the order. Provoking him won’t work in my favor.

I force one foot in front of the other until I’m by his side. He stares up at me with a quirked eyebrow, like he didn’t just throw a knife at my father. I swallow every ugly remark and push down every violent, intrusive thought that comes to mind—like breaking his glass and slashing his throat open with a shard.

He reaches up to grab my waist, and his knuckles brush against mine. The contact fries a major part of my brain, and I don’t have it in me to fight as he pulls me onto his thigh, hard and sturdy under my ass. He clamps a possessive arm under my breasts, where everyone—my father, my pack, and his guests—can see, humiliating me, and I see the disappointment in my family’s eyes shifting into resentment. We fight to the death for our own. They came into enemy territory to get me back, possibly fight to that end, but me? I’m a fucking coward .

My head hangs in shame and I refuse to look at my father. Or Madeline. Or Morris. Or anyone else.

Asher gives a curt nod and everyone digs into their food. Dinner has officially begun.

“We’ve taken such good care of your daughter, Mardoc,” Asher says, breaking the tense silence, and my body goes rigid. “I understand your skepticism, but you have nothing to worry about.”

Dad abandons his food and glowers across the room. “You crossed into my territory and stole my daughter. You should be grateful I don’t take that as an act of war.”

Asher merely cuts off a piece of lamb, stabs it with his fork, and brings it close to my lips, all while staring at my father, watching his rage simmer. When I refuse to open my mouth, his hand on my thigh inches toward the knife by his plate. Another threat. I part my lips, and he pushes in a generous amount of mouthwatering meat.

But it tastes like ash. I have to force myself to chew.

Satisfied by my display of obedience, he responds to my father. “I didn’t steal her. She offered herself to me in exchange for being saved from...” He glances at Beta Manuel, and there’s a hostility in his eyes that I don’t think has anything to do with how Beta Manuel groped my ass. “ That .”

The older man’s lips curl into an ugly sneer. “She was my bride. There are laws in place, and you broke them. I demand retribution.”

Asher smirks. “And what would that be, Manuel? ”

I chew in the blistering silence, swallowing even if it takes three tries for the food to go down. Which is better? Going back with Beta Manuel and dying slowly, or staying with Asher until he murders me? My life sucks.

My heartbeat accelerates when Beta Manuel says, “You’ve tainted her. I’d rather die than bed one of your whores.” His beady eyes run along the women at the table and land on the youngest. Her skin is white as snow, and she has raven-black hair like Asher’s. “Your cousin will do.”

He has a cousin?

Asher’s stare is filled with dry amusement. “Jules, what do you think?”

The woman—girl? I can’t be sure; she barely looks eighteen—shrugs, downing the last of her wine. She licks her lips as she sets the glass down. “Sorry, Ash. He’s really not my type.”

Manuel snarls, and though my father growls in warning, he ignores it. He jumps to his feet, the entitled fool. I could have warned him that Asher is dangerous, but it’s too late to save him. It was over from the moment he insinuated he wanted to bed Asher’s cousin—a child .

This time, Asher doesn’t throw a knife. He hurls his fork across the table instead, and I don’t scream when the sharp tines lodge in Manuel’s throat. But Madeline does, as blood sprays on her blue dress. My father’s guards rush to Manuel’s aid, and I watch him thrash on the floor and bleed. A fork to the throat won’t kill a werewolf, but it sure as hell will make him sore for a while.

Maybe I should feel bad, but I don’t. It’s satisfying to watch a man with pedophilic tendencies choke on his own blood.

The guests at the table keep eating their meals like this is just a typical night. Maybe they’ve seen much worse. It makes me wonder what normally happens at these dinners—what I have to look forward to—and the food in my stomach turns to lead.

“Alpha Asher,” my father says, his voice cracking as he looks from me to Manuel, who’s still gurgling pitifully on the floor. “Let Leilani go. She had nothing to do with that night. Your fight is with me.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine. That night? What the hell is he talking about? “Dad?—”"

Asher chuckles, and it’s a sound I’m starting to hate, because it means he’s toying with me—with us . “Where’s the fun in that?”

“What do you want?”

Asher stills, and just like that, I’m nothing more than a doll perched on his arm—insignificant, worth only as much as my father is willing to give. He drags his teeth over his lower lip, appearing to be deep in thought, but I know what he says next is premeditated. “Step down. Hand the Blue Moon Pack over to me, and become my slave.”

Silence.

I jump to my feet. “Are you out of your damn mind?!”

They ignore me. Dad looks like he’s considering it. Asher merely watches him. I’ve never met anyone as cold or unfeeling as him.

I see the conflict in Dad’s eyes. I see him weigh his options, and I know the moment he decides. His raises his chin and clenches his jaw. “No.”

Asher doesn’t look surprised. But I do. I know I would have advised against it. I was about to tell him not to give in to Asher’s demands, but he obviously didn’t need the motivation. That stings, and makes me feel completely alone. Mother would have picked differently. After all, that’s why she died—to save my life, while Dad wasn’t even there.

Venomous thoughts run through my mind, and Asher asks the question I don’t have the courage to. “Your daughter’s life isn’t worth your title or your dignity, is it?”

Annoyance flares in my father’s amber gaze. “Whether or not it is changes nothing. Let her go while I’m still asking nicely, Asher. I don’t care if I win this. I’ll have your head if you harm my daughter.”

Asher’s hand clamps around my wrist, forcing me back onto his lap. He lets everyone see as he strokes my cheek with his warm fingers. His thumb runs across my bottom lip, and heat crawls up my skin. “Tell me, Leilani,” he muses. A strangled, frustrated breath escapes me as those electric blue eyes zero in on me, and my body responds to him like a sex-starved bitch. “Should I let you go?”

My heart stutters, and he gives no warning before his hand slides up my neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and bringing my lips to his. Pure lust erupts inside me, violent enough to make me shiver. He tastes like wine and forbidden pleasures. The hand I placed between us to push him away curls in his shirt instead, and I feel his heartbeat. I’m surprised that a heartless man can have one this steady and strong.

His tongue slides against mine as my chest brushes against his. The friction undoes me and I moan, gripping his jacket to pull him closer. Something worse and less fragile than butterflies scatters in my belly when a rough sound reverberates in his chest. He tilts my head for better access, devouring my mouth like he’s done it before, like he knows every corner of it and wishes to claim it again .

Blood rushes to my head, making me hot and desperate. I forget where I am, who I am, the guests, my father, everything. I forget who Asher is, and I kiss him back.

Or I try to, because he suddenly pulls away from me.

I blink, lips swollen, brain cells fried, the musky scent of my arousal heavy in the air. Asher laughs—at me, at my father’s disgusted look, at the members of my pack staring at me like I’m an utter disgrace. They look at me like I’m an outsider owned by the enemy, and their judgment reminds me of my wedding night. Back then, they thought I was a filthy whore, but I can tell they think this is worse.

Dad is so mad, his veins look like they’ll pop out of his forehead, and I can tell the only thing holding him back is Madeline’s hand on his arm.

When his gaze meets mine, he sneers. “You’re a disappointment.”

I choke on a sob as he turns his back to me, walking away with Madeline practically running after him.

“Mardoc,” Asher calls out, and my father whirls to face him with barely leashed violence.

Asher’s lips curve in a sly smile. “Maybe take care of your wife before you threaten me. Your lack of strength must be why she frequented Christian’s bed so often.”

I freeze. “What?”

Madeline’s face pales. My father looks to her for a denial, but her shifty eyes and suddenly blotchy skin say it all. My stepmother was screwing my mate. I’m suddenly completely overwhelmed. I should’ve known. She was always praising him, staring at him over dinner, returning his charming smiles with shy ones. My heart goes into overdrive. They were...they were fucking .

“Oh Goddess,” I sob, clutching at my chest as it tightens until I can’t breathe.

“Mardoc,” she calls out as my father storms down the hall. “Mardoc, please. I can explain” She looks back at me, but the guilt won’t let her meet my eyes. She goes after my father, and a gut-wrenching howl tears through the house a second later.

The hurt in my chest won’t go away. Georgia wasn’t even enough, he had to have Madeline, too? How could I have been so blind?

I wait until the last of my father’s pack leaves, carrying a wheezing Beta Manuel with them, before I attempt to stand.

“Well, that was interesting,” Jules laughs, and the rest of the table joins her.

My knees give out, and Asher grabs my elbow before I can crash to the ground. “Careful?—”

I snarl at the bastard, finally lashing out. My palm connects with his cheek and his face snaps left, the slap echoing off the walls. His eyes flash gold, but I don’t care. “Don’t you ever put your filthy hands on me again. I’m your prisoner, not your whore.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “You are whatever I want you to be. My wife. My property. My prisoner. Mine . Remember that before you raise a hand to me. I won’t be as forgiving next time.”

More tears roll down my cheeks, but I laugh hoarsely. “Or what? You’ll kill me?”

He says nothing as I turn on my heels and flee to my room.