Forced To Marry The Wolf

CHAPTER 2: PRIME WHITEMANE, THE CROWN PRINCE

“I AM not going to marry the Crown Prince of the Wolf Kingdom.” There. Easy. I can handle this like an adult. A multifunctioning adult, who, in retrospect, is still learning how to deal with her anger issues. But make no mistake. I am actually reeling on the inside. I’m a walking explosive. I’m ready to bomb the hell out of this manor with all the curse words humankind has ever known.

However, I respect Martha and her “How to repress your anger 101” pieces of advice. So, I counted to five, instead. And hoping that my teeth stay inside my mouth.

Xanthene looks ready to drop the curse bomb. “There is no other way.” There. Easy. Too easy. Like she’s not talking about the fact that she wants me, to marry, the Crown Prince of the Wolf Kingdom. Like she’s not talking about me, the daughter of the High Lord of the Vampyr, to marry the Crown Prince of the Wolf Kingdom.

How many more times do I have to stress that part?

“I can think of plenty.” A lot more than plenty, actually.

“Declaring war is not on the agenda, Ramona. So does accepting the termination of the relationship between our kinds.” Xanthene holds up one finger, signaling she’s not yet finished. “And you definitely cannot plan your own murder against the Crown Prince. It’ll be too messy. That is if you’re not killed in the process first.”

“May I suggest trying the old man, instead? He’s already half-way between this world and purgatory. Only needs a little push.” This comes from none other than Romano. Twin. Older. But seeing from how he still acts like he’s a little Vampyr child who still cannot control his thirst for human blood, I’d like to imagine I’m the older one. It’s only a matter of who came out of Mother’s womb first.

Romano looks like the exact copy of me. Except he’s male and he’s uglier—a fact that most people would never agree. Red hair. High nose. Pale skin. The only difference between us is the freckles I have under my eyes and the fact that my hair is slightly brighter than his. Ginger. He’s taller than me, because, of course, everyone is taller than me. And he has a penchant for AB negative type.

“Oh, you’re here.” My tone is unpleasant. I don’t know when we stopped being civil towards each other—maybe it was that time when he first blamed me for the blood orgy he had in the woods with five human females—but I can’t help the fondness I have for my twin. It’s nice to see a familiar face after one year in exile.

Not that he doesn’t come visit often to attend his crazy blood events.

“Nice to see you too, Sister. I know you miss me a lot,” Romano plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. He sits down with his red satin robe, brushing his red hair back, and sucking on a red straw that I suspect to be blood. “Oh, relax. It’s beet juice.”

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“Considering you almost blew the cover of the whole supernatural world at your first attempt to allure a human? Pretty high.”

“You distracted me!” I argued.

“I was making friends.”

“By alluring a woman?”

“It was breakfast time.”

“It was midnight.”

“Enough!” Xanthene rubs her head. “This isn’t why I brought all of you here for.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. I thought you were going to talk about my public restroom incident again.” And here comes the youngest, most entitled third child. The golden apple. The star of the Alcatraz household. Brat of the bunch. The most liberated female Vampyr ever existed. Lenora sits next to Romano, who immediately embraces her in a side hug, leaving me alone standing across from them. “That was getting old.”

“And you still haven’t got the punishment for it yet. But yes, it’s not what we’re here for.”

“Why are we here?” Lenora checks her red-painted fingernails. Here is another copy of me. Except her hair is too dark to be seen as red. And she’s tall. Like, really tall. Her long legs become the addiction of the male gaze and her beauty is remarkable. No freckles. But she’s still somewhat similar to me.

Mother really said copy and paste.

“To talk about the relationship between Vampyr and Weres,” Xanthene explains. “You do know what happened to Duncan Atticus?”

“Poor man,” Romano sighs.

“No one is going to miss him.” Lenora and I shared a look.

“And because of that, the Affiliation is in peril. We’re going to discuss how we’re going to deal with it.”

“You mean how I’m going to deal with it?” One to five, Ramona. You can do this.

“We’ve been over this. There’s no other way.” The one-hundred-year-old babysitter presses her lips together, trying to contain her frustration to better help the situation. I have every right to be mad, so, I don’t feel guilty over the stress that I put on her. “This is the only way we can continue our decent relationship.”

“Can it even be called a relationship? It’s just a pact. Which puts us directly under their command. Their rule.” Romano jeers.

“With this agreement, it protects our people.” Xanthene retaliates. “It’s a century Affiliation that makes our kinds agree to a peaceful life side by side, without spilling more blood and blood in unnecessary wars.”

“You mean stopping their kind from completely annihilating our kind, right?” I chastised. Xanthene throws me a look, but I don’t have time to regret any of my words. “I don’t want to be another bait. A sacrifice. A scapegoat. I have enough. Being exiled is my last straw.”

Both of my siblings flinch.

“We have to do this, Ramona. Please. You don’t want war, do you?”

“I’m sorry. What are we doing again?” Lenora blinked confusedly.

“We’re going to marry Ramona off to the Crown Prince, to offer an olive branch. Also, to further the Affiliation that we have with them. This is the perfect plan. What better way to continue a relationship other than a political marriage?”

Lenora swore. “You lucky, bloodsucking, murderous Sister!”

“I say it’s a win.”

“I hate you both.” My fangs start to make a show. One to five. Breath.

“It’s for the best. You can’t say no.”

“I can say no,” I argued. “It’s my life!”

“Against the rest of the Vampyr kind. You’re the daughter of the High Lord.”

“So is Lenora!”

Lenora blinks excitedly. Mouth waters. Eyes flashing red. She looks like a hungry Lioness, except maybe a hungry Lioness would look more attractive. “Yes, indeed. There is me.”

“She’s barely of age.”

“Are you kidding me?” I deadpan. Romano laughs.

“She’s only one and seven of human age.” Xanthene retorts. Lenora huffs. I scoff. Since when does age even matter in our world? Xanthene reads my mind. She doesn’t answer my question truthfully. It’s because they can’t control lust-hungry, Lenora. But they can control me. Because I’m always the scapegoat for everything.

“Where is he, anyway?” I bite my own tongue and revel at the metallic taste. “Father?”

“Dealing with the Wolf Kingdom. He’ll be back. With the rest of the Crown Prince's party.”

“What?” I shout.

“The engagement is going to be tonight.”

Romano gulps.

Lenora is still disappointed.

I sigh, looking at the marble floor while counting to sixty-seven.

~ ~ ~

Father brings the rest of the Crown Prince's party to our manor. He didn’t even wait to hear the agreement from me. Putting Xanthene in that position was enough for him because he knew she would make it happen. As if they are not planning to marry me to the Crown Prince of the Wolf Kingdom.

Again. Please, stress that part out.

The main hall is buzzing, from the entrance straight to the ballroom that Father especially built for events, such as selling his middle child to the Crown Prince of our enemy. Nothing big. The usual.

I watch people coming in from behind a pillar on the third floor, hiding in the shadows and my own misery. I caught a glimpse of the Crown Prince and his warriors. As usual, he looks like he’s incapable of any emotion. No signs of any expression at all. The ruthless and famous Crown Prince, the singular heir of the Wolf Kingdom, the biggest and fiercest Kingdom of the Supernatural world. Can you tell who the majority is in this universe?

My mind goes blank when I feel a presence right behind me. Too deep in my own mind, I missed the signs of someone snooping and closing in. Big mistake. But judging from the way the hair on my nape stands, my body shivers, and the non-beating heart thumps inside my chest, I can only guess the only person who manages to make me feel this way, as well as a menacing wrath.

I turn around before he could cave me from behind. Another mistake. He caves in front of me. Heat engulfs my entire body, even though I’m pretty sure my kind shouldn’t even feel the temperature. We simply cannot. But my body warms from the presence of the giant man in front of me. When I say giant, I mean massive.

All I can see is golden.

Not just like ordinary golden. Unlike the chandelier in the ceiling. Or the pieces of jewelry hanging on the women’s limbs. Not dull, like the coins and beads. This golden is piercing, sharp, intense, something that is strident. It’s forceful because it demands your attention. Familiar. Proverbial.

Eyes. I’m looking into the golden eyes with wonder and something else. Anger brims my skin. But the other part, the one that hides further in the shadows, can only gulp. Eyes that are surrounded by curly black hair. It falls to his forehead, and to his shoulders.

A face that is all angles and sharp edges.

A face that is so perfect it’s almost offensive. It’s impossible. It’s terrible, intolerable, but he’s real. It’s attached to an even more perfect figure. A massive body, large, solid, hard in my hands. A body that is pinning me to the railings of the stairs, making me hang halfway on the third floor. My red hair flows in the air. Breath stalled in my lungs.

The man smells like the forest. So insufferably good.

“If it isn’t the little obedient Vampyr.” His voice is a deep, rigorous baritone.

I’m breathless.

I don’t even breathe.

“Prime Whiteman.” I sound shaky. Weak. It makes me even angrier. Madness. I want to pull a Duncan Atticus at him. Because he makes me feel this way. Because I hate him. Because Vampyr hates Werewolf.

And because of the next thing that he does.

The Crown Prince of the Wolf Kingdom kisses me in the mouth.

Violently hard.