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A n hour later, I slam the door of Rogue Prince's bedroom. Our bedroom, I suppose. Yes, it’s mine. I am his wife. We both agreed to this. I did move here. I’m not some kidnapped victim. I have to stop thinking like one!

He looks up at me from his comfortable position on the huge bed. I can see that while his wife was being abused, he was reading my military book again. Fuck him.

I drop the hand I used to cover my breast with shreds of my dress.

I’m only in my panties, not in great condition either. And the Rogue Prince, no, Cain —why should I be respectful in my thoughts? I don’t owe him that anymore, takes my look in.

Is he disgusted by the amount of bodily fluids that cover my excessively bruised skin? Is he appalled by all the nasty cuts decorating my exposed body? I would never know with those emotionless eyes of his.

“Just between us, Alpha , did you really think letting your people do whatever they want with your wife, your Luna, is such a smart idea?” I throw whatever is left of my clothes into the bin near a desk by the door. Panties too.

“By my Luna, you mean, the person I should cherish enough for my enemies to know that’s where they should strike first? I just did you a favor.”

“Are you even serious right now?” I almost stomp my feet with frustration, like a little kid who doesn’t know what to do with their big emotions. “What enemies?! My father?! Yeah, he would kidnap and torture me to get to you, for sure. I’m so grateful you just saved me by throwing me to the wolves. Literally!”

He rolls his eyes at me, clearly not appreciating my sarcasm .

I storm to the bathtub, where steaming water waits for me. It smells a little bit like sage. I don’t get that man. He had to ask for that water to be prepared for me—part of him must care . He’s not one hundred percent bad, I know that.

This makes everything even worse—how can he choose all that evil when he knows how to be good, too?

I step into the metal tub and slowly sit down. I hiss at the burning sensation where my fresh wounds meet the infused water. I carefully lean back and close my eyes to concentrate on the sage scent. I’m so battered I can’t properly heal all my wounds yet.

“I’m your wife. How could you?” I ask quietly, not able to rest the case.

“Relax and stop acting as if it’s a big deal.”

I snap my eyes open and give him a death stare even he would be proud of.

He rolls his eyes at me again and throws my book away. I don’t appreciate it.

“Well, they didn’t rape you, did they?”

“How do you know? Maybe they did,” I spit, closing my eyes again as if it could remedy my growing frustration.

“Once, one of my men had oral sex with one of my personal whores. I cut off his dick in front of his parents. I don’t see a report of dicks-to-cut-off on my desk over there right now, do you?”

So, that’s where that story was going. Interesting.

“Do you?” He asks again with a raised voice.

“No, Your Highness.” I hate this man.

“Trust me, they won’t touch you.”

Is that supposed to calm me?!

“They did touch me!” I yell with hatred, almost splashing some water in frustration.

“Not with their hard dicks. You are fine.”

I am clearly not fine.

But good to know he can at least fight for his whores. They have to endure enough with him already.

I can hear some movement, so I open my eyes. He comes to the bathtub and gets a clean cloth.

Goddess, not this sick game again!

He kneels by the side and looks at me with silent command. Does he want to humiliate me even more? By scrubbing me clean like some kid? After all that I endured tonight? When I am so vulnerable?

Fuck him, I won’t let him get to me anymore.

No. I will enjoy this bath. Pampering , yes, that’s what it is from now on. He can pamper me all he fucking wants!

He starts wiping my skin slowly, being extra delicate on all the wounds—starting with my left foot and then my calf. When he goes to my thigh, I close my eyes and pretend to moan.

If he is taken aback, he doesn’t show it.

He continues with the other leg, but I also feel cold water gently falling on my face. The drops quickly slide down and touch my scrapes and wounds, and they start to burn. Burn like hell!

I snap my eyes open.

He is crushing a lemon in his stretched hand over my face! The smell is becoming so intense I can no longer mistake it for my mate. The juice is dripping through his fingers straight over me and my battered body.

What the hell?!

He grabs my jaw and squeezes my cheeks with his strong fingers. I don’t know what he plans to do, but I try to fight it. I lose. He forcefully opens my lips and squeezes lemon inside my mouth. A sour taste invades my tongue .

He kisses me, tasting me, chasing my tongue with his. He leans back finally and growls with pure pleasure and closed eyes.

You sick jerk! I think that, but I don’t say it. I won’t give him this satisfaction.

He continues to touch me. At some point between my knee and inner thigh, he loses the cloth and starts using his hand.

I moan, louder and louder, just like he taught me. Poor guy, I’m using his own sword against him.

“Stop acting like that,” he says, but without a stench of alpha command, so I know he doesn’t really mean it.

No. He likes it. He wants me like this.

He only asked because of this stupid sex game of his. He doesn’t want to lose. He doesn’t want to take me until I literally beg for it.

Unluckily for him, I know how to play. I like to win, and I don’t mind in the slightest what my win would mean. We will have sex at some point either way.

So, I put my hand between my thighs, just putting some pressure—more for show than my pleasure; and I moan again, but this time his name, “Cain…”

He can’t take my provocation anymore and yanks me out of the bathtub. I land on all fours with slight satisfaction, my back to him, wet in more ways than one—he grabs my hips and thrusts his dick into me with primal force.

I scream in pain and a hint of unfamiliar, overwhelming pleasure.

He stills, completely, and I feel so fucking full that tears are coming from my eyes.

“Fuck, I forgot you are a virgin,” he says and slides out, leaving me empty and needy. “I’m sorry.”

He can apologize? That’s new.

“I’m not, you are just fucking huge,” another of my lies covered in a blanket of truth .

At least, I think it is the truth. I don’t have a comparison. As a werewolf in the military camp, I saw my fair share of dicks, but they usually weren’t erect.

I sit, turning to him, and chuckle. “Well, that was easy.”

He looks at me with an arched brow. He is sitting on his heels, knees apart, shirtless, pants lowered, glistening cock out, black hair disheveled, and navy-blue eyes piercing like always. He’s hot. So hot.

“Why are you laughing?” He asks.

“You lost your game,” I say pointedly. “I didn’t beg.”

“I’m surprised you treat losing your virginity so lightly,” he says with a smirk and pulls his pants up, covering his still-hard dick.

“I don’t get why you are so obsessed with the concept of virginity, which is only a social construct by the way. I don’t know why you insist on knowing if I have ever had sex before.”

“So, you are okay with losing your virginity like that?” I can see Rogue Prince is not one to back off.

“I never had anything to lose. Sexual experience is to gain, not lose, also… Are you calling that one move, sex? I didn’t gain a lot of experience from that extra short thrust, except having to heal my cervix, did I? Respectfully, Alpha, but it didn’t count.”

“So, you admit I didn’t lose the game after all?”

Fuck.

“And you have something to lose,” he adds, looking at me with confidence that only the win can give. “Health, for example.”

“Or gain the disease,” I say playfully. That makes him laugh and shake his head in disbelief.

I look at him, all normal and sexy, and can’t help but recall our first encounter. He stood there looking so imposing and scary. Hell, he even put a sword to my neck or chin. He was threatening me and asking if I was a virgin like it was the worst thing in the world. Why is he suddenly dead set on being certain I am one? Doesn’t he mind anymore?

“Well, good for you, I’m not. Shouldn’t you appreciate virgins more, as someone living in such a medieval way?” I ask instead, still deep into my lie.

At this point, I will die lying about it.

He looks at me weirdly and then closes his eyes like he wants to steady his emotions first.

That’s a first.

Then he opens them and pulls me to him by wrapping his arm around my thin waist. I hiss when he squeezes me too much, with my ribs still hurt after the fight. He ignores that, of course.

I steady my hands on his broad chest, kneeling between his thighs—ready for anything. Fury, kiss, threats, sex, anything but the thing he says next.

“I get it. You are a modern woman who doesn’t want to be held by some old social construct. It’s smart. But please, stop lying to me about having sex before,” he looks at me, our faces just inches apart.

I should have made him sleep with me the first night; he wouldn’t have been able to tell if I knew what I was doing. Then he would never have had the occasion for this stupid discussion.

“It doesn’t matter if I’ve had sex before. That’s the point,” I start to be annoyed.

He sighs.

“I understand. Either way, you deserve more than a quick, angry fuck for your first time,” he says to me, and I don’t know what to say or think.

I just look at him, at his face. His eyes, nose, stubble-covered jaw, and perfectly dark, tanned olive skin contrasting with my fair skin.

I look into his eyes again, wondering why he is acting like this right now. Why doesn’t he reprimand me for not addressing him in a respectful manner? Is he being honest with me? Is he really trying to be considerate ?

Doesn’t matter. He literally poured acid on my wounds just ten minutes ago , I remind myself.

He looks back at me, searching for something in my eyes.

“You know, I was excited to bake you some lemon muffins or something before you let your men—well, I’m not anymore,” I confess bitterly.

“I would love lemon muffins, thank you.” He pulls me even closer and kisses me gently.

I stop the Rogue Prince’s kiss, and he bites on his lower lip.

“No, you can’t physically hurt me and then suddenly act all caring like this,” I try to push his naked chest.

“Oh, come on, leave it already. You are a strong werewolf… You are even healed already, look!” He releases me from his grip, and I sit on my heels before him.

I look down with wide eyes, realizing that my ribs didn’t hurt when he pulled me harder for the kiss.

I am completely healed. Fast. Too fast. Without even trying.

Shit! The mate bond is what heals me so quickly, my true mate's touch and kisses.

He can’t know—or some rogue hazing will be the least of my problems!