The Wicked Wolf

Five

*three hours and thirty minutes before being taken*

The Wicked Wolf leaned with his arms crossed against the door frame in a way that made it seem like he owned the place, but this was Hugo’s mansion, within his land, his pack. Yet with the way the new King stood, it was as if he was the master of this house.

In the halls, closer to him than I was in the arena, I got to see how he was truly a good looking man, a work of art carved from stone and made into this deceptively handsome face. His eyes are of this dark molten color of lava, framed by thick and long eyelashes and staring at me with such heat it makes me catch my breath. When his lips curl into what I can only assume is a smile, it fills my heart with darkness and danger.

I should be afraid.

I should be repulsed.

Yet, I felt the opposite.

Despite the distance, I could feel his warmth in the cold hallway. A light at the end of the dark path, calling out to me, urging me forward.

As the wind from an open window by his side blew, I caught a whiff of his scent. It was a deliciously addicting smell, dark and earthy, smelling of hours spent in the woods. The smell reminded me of chilly mornings under the blankets, watching the sunrise from my bedroom window. My control momentarily slipping, I took another deep breath and caught the subtle smell of sin… of him at his core and I liked it.

I liked it very much—

I froze, my heart skipping a beat as I realize what I was doing. This man I was so happily indulging on wasn’t my betrothed.

He wasn’t Hugo.

The silence that came was unnerving because he didn’t speak or move or anything.

But I know he is watching me closely, expectantly. It was hard not to notice the way he was staring.

I thought of turning away from him, finding a different route to get to Hugo, but I steeled my spine and walked forward to meet the man who m u r d e r e d his entire family for a crown that no one had seen him wear.

Tilting my head in acknowledgment but not giving him anything else— an action that he has k i l l e d many for, I move to squeeze myself in the small space, the tiniest gap between his body and the wall he situated himself on.

Before I could slip past him, a voice of the lowest baritone spoke.

“The youngest Rhys,”

He sounded rough and rumbly, like powerful thunder and lightning during a storm.

When he stood to his full towering height, pushing off the wall he was leaning on, I was swallowed in shadow and left staring up, my head pitched backwards to get a full look at him. He was a behemoth of a man, imposing and tall and thick with muscle.

A predator's gaze locked in on me and my pulse leaped. “Tell me, what did your father sell you for?”

I felt like sheep beneath his stare, but I bristled all the same. “Excuse me?”

“Everyone knows a Rhys is a very expensive commodity. A luxury not everyone can have, and only the chosen few can afford. Your father saw to that.” He says this with such utter distaste, such anger and hatred that it mirrored my father's.

It seems the new King shared my father’s sentiments.

The hate between them was mutual and palpable.

“Your sister. The one married before you was proudly announced to have cost more than anyone else. But what about you?” The way he looked at me, all of me, it made me feel hot all over. “You’re the favorite. What was promised?“

I repressed the desire to reply with a very snarky retort, but instead, I hid behind my mask of indifference, playing it the way I was taught to do. “I was promised to the strongest Alpha in the world; Hugo Bastian.”

A scoff that sounded a lot like a repressed laugh filled the quiet hall, but there was no humor in his expression. There was only hunger. “Hugo Bastian is not the strongest. Not even close. He might have the biggest pack, but he is far from the strongest.”

“Well, regardless of your opinion, he is giving me half of his pack, his warriors.” I didn’t wait for him to end the conversation or continue it, opting to side step around him for my escape, but he took me by the wrist and pulled me so close to him that I was surrounded by his scent.

It was dizzying… in the best way, and I hated it.

Yanking my wrist away from his calloused hand, I glared up at him. “I am a married woman—“

This time, when he laughs, it chills my spine, and it wasn’t at all that uncomfortable. The sensation was almost delicious, making me want more of it.

F u c k.

He stares at me, feeling like he was looking deep within my soul and smirks ever so smoothly. It was a sinful little thing, but it was enough to make my insides burn. “Not yet.”

I glower at him, ignoring twenty years of training to keep my face emotionless and detached. “Still, you are touching someone else’s betrothed. I am off limits. You must not know the proper customs, seeing as you've hidden yourself in that fortress of yours.”

The triumphant gleam in his eyes that showed he didn’t care for my words further stroked my rage. “Did I perhaps fluster a Rhys? How out of character. You’re all so stone cold, unfeeling.”

“As opposed to your warm and welcoming personality?” I shot back, hating how I couldn’t stop talking, hating how I couldn’t just leave well enough alone.

His exceptionally strong jaw flexed. “You don’t like me.”

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “I don’t care enough about you to have an opinion.”

I tried to ignore how his eyes flashed with something that vaguely resembled hurt.

It was there.

For a second.

I almost regret my words.

“I have to go,” I quickly said, swallowing back those unexplained emotions that traveled through my body. It’s as if I lost all control over myself.

And I hated it.

My whole life I have been trained to feel nothing, show nothing, yet one conversation with this wicked fool, and I'm a blubbering mess, unable to stop myself.

Worse, father was expecting me and if he finds out I’m late because of the man he hates the most… I didn't even want to think about the consequences.

The Wicked Wolf doesn’t let me go so easily, his intense molten eyes keeping me in place. “You attract the wrong kind of attention, Miss Rhys.”

I held my breath, my pulse quickened yet again. It felt like I was playing with fire, and I was quickly being consumed by it. “And what kind of attention is that?”

When he answers, it feels as though the entire world stops. “Mine.”

Hot.

I felt hot all over.

If I wasn’t flustered before, I am now. I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, regardless of how my entire body tremors. My family prides ourselves on complete, utter control and yet a fleeting moment with the Wicked Wolf, and I am spiraling out of it like I've learned nothing.

“I-I…” I was stuttering and horribly breathless. Never in my twenty years of existence have I ever stuttered. “I need to look for my betrothed now.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Wait,”

My patience was thin, wanting more space between us before anyone saw us in this dark hallway, pressed this close. But there was something in his voice, something that made my insides twist and pushed me to look up at him again. “What is it?”

"Who is he to you?" He asks, his eyes suddenly darker than the shadows he often hides in. "Hugo Bastian,"

I pressed my lips in a hard line. "My betrothed that my father chose for me?"

But didn't he already know this?

Wasn't he here to make fun of that?

The Wicked Wolf's eyebrows rose slightly. "And nothing else?"

I did not understand his question nor did I answer it.

“You might not like what you see.” His sudden cold tone leaves a bad taste in my mouth and I feel the urge to vomit. “Give it a few—“

I didn’t let him finish, shoving my way past him hurriedly.

There was a moment of absolute peace as I walked through the halls of my future home, this beautiful and massive home. Strangely, my heart was beating normally, slow and relaxed. A calm before the storm.

When I make it to Hugo’s room, I don’t think. I don’t announce myself. I didn’t do anything else but open the door.

It wasn't even locked.

The room was dark and for a moment I saw nothing. However, with the soft moonlight that shone through the open balcony, it was enough for me to see the forgotten satin dresses old and new thrown against the back of furniture, a number of discarded lace underwear of every color at the foot of the bed and several pairs of stockings ripped and bundled up were sprawled across the floor, as if removed in a hurry.

But there was more than one of each.

Because there was more than one.

And this was not the only time.

The strong smell of musk and sweat and s e x was heavy in the air. Perfumes of various girls of various times were on the walls, on the floor, on the curtain that blew.

Everywhere.

Absolutely everywhere.

His room… it smelled more of women than of a man.

And it was warm, too warm.

I hear the sound of breathless pants and moans before I can think of anything else.

“Oh, Hugo.”

The bitter taste of betrayal settled on me like a punch in the gut.

“Yes, Hugo. Right there!” The high pitched gasp bellowed. There was a slapping sound, constant and erratic and painfully drumming against my ears.

I hear Hugo grunt next. An animalistic sound I had never heard from him before. Because how could I have? We’ve never slept together.

I’ve never slept with anyone.

I assumed he did the same.

How silly of me.

Something sturdy and wooden rocks and groans, a table. They were on a table… a table I used to read at whenever I came to visit Hugo. The woman had her back to him, and he was behind her, his pants pulled down to his knees.

“You’re about to be married.” She whispered, breathless and unrestrained. “In a few minutes.”

“So?” The table protests as he slams himself against her repeatedly. “That doesn’t mean anything. We can still do what we’re doing with her around.”

Her.

I was a mere her to my own betrothed.

“She’s a Rhys.” The woman protests as she lets out a cry when he slams into her again. “F u c k, you feel so good.”

Hugo grumbles and I wonder why they haven’t noticed me yet, but with the way the woman was s c r e a m i n g out his name, I doubt they’d hear anything else. “Yes. Perfect Rhys. But I like being the more dominant of us and with her, I’ll only be second.”

The woman sputters. “Does that mean you would have slept with anyone? Do you even remember my name?”

Hugo shrugs, his body completely against her now. “Anyone. I don’t care who. Now enough talk. I need to finish quickly. I’m needed in a few minutes.”

He was doing this with a girl that he doesn’t even know, doesn’t even care about.

He was doing this… minutes before he was supposed to see me.

Marry me.

More terrifying than anything else, I feel tears prickle my eyes.