Forced To Marry The Wolf

CHAPTER 3: AFFILIATION AND AFFAIR, WHAT DIFFERENCE?

AT FIRST glance, if someone were to see us, they would think that the man, the beast, the Crown Prince himself was kissing me. Violently hard, yes. Brutally passionate, yes. But as I’m the one who is experiencing the whole thing, it feels like a ravenous feed. He’s not only kissing me like his life depends on it, but he’s also rampaging on my lips, savoring it, devouring it like I’m a piece of meat and he’s a starving wolf.

Somehow, I end up backed up in the corner, deep into the dark, further down the shadows in the hallway as the buzz of the engagement downstairs becomes louder. I ended up wrapping my legs around his slim torso and circled my arms around his massive shoulders. I end up arching my back, offering him my jugular as if to say, “Here, do your worst, Wolf. I hope you tear me apart.”

And I am. Being torn apart, that is.

Anger licks at my skin, but it’s assorted with the blind desire that I feel every single time that I’m with this giant. The huge Brickhouse that can bend me in half, break my back, or simply twist my neck with a single hand. He’s pressing me against the wall, and I, involuntarily, let out a noise at the back of my throat when he thrusts.

What in the Vampyr blood—

“I see that you miss me,” came his deep, sultry voice. It’s enough to undo something inside of me. I’d like to think of it as my anger, my wrath, but that fury only turns into something darker, forbidden, and very much inappropriate. I grip his shoulders harder, sinking my red nails deep into his skin, hoping that it’s my fangs instead. The giant beast bucks his hips at the motion. “Too much, huh?”

“I’m so not missing you,” I growled. Yeah, that’s as believable as when I tell people that I’m a vegan. I get angrier. I want to lash out at him, but my grip only gets stronger, harder, and even more desperate. It’s almost like I’m the one pushing him into me, and the knowing little smirk on his face proves that he can feel the same.

“It’s okay. Denial is the first step. It’s always that way before you can accept it.”

“I don’t miss you, Pups.” His eyes flashed red. Much like mine when I’m on my blood hunt era. He yanks my head back, fisting my hair aggressively, but it only stirs something even crazier in my chest. The sadistic snarl in his mouth should send me running, but I’m not backing away from him. “Seems like you’re the one who misses me more.”

“Hmm, sure,” he purrs. Like, really, really purr. My knees tremble, and if it isn’t because I’m already hanging on to him, I would probably fall. “I miss seeing you bend over the table and—”

I clamped his mouth with my hand. The corners of his golden eyes crinkled. Amused. “Shut up,” I growled. “Let me go now.”

“We’re not even doing anything yet.”

“There are people down there!” I whisper-shout, hoping that everyone would be too busy with the merriment to even use their super hearings. “This is wrong.”

“That’s not what you said the last time I came to visit and we spent a rather intimate moment in the High Lord’s private study.”

“Everyone was out in the forest,” I hissed.

“Is that why you screamed my name so loud?” He teases.

One to five. You can do this, Ramona.

“Or when you begged for more not caring if someone catches us?” He continues, taunting me, kissing my neck like it’s his prized possession. He hoists me higher, carrying me with one single hand, and the other wrapped around my throat. Branding me. Claiming me. I’m utterly speechless, and all I can do is whimper.

Can you believe that?

Whimper.

“Anyone can hear us,” I try to reason. But my body already knows what it wants, anyway. It’s not trying to get away from Prime Whiteman.

“Then they can get a show. After all, isn’t the party down there for us, fiancé?”

I clench my jaw. Anger again. One to five. Please, don’t turn into an angry murderer Vampyr. Now is so not the time to decide to drink his blood until there is nothing more. However, seeing how his pulse thumps rather quickly than it should, it makes me gulp. Why am I getting thirsty?

“It’s not wrong for the two couples to engage in their engagement party, right?” Prime licks me from the base of my jaw into the first dip of my chest. I arch my back even higher, my mouth opening, and I lose all track.

Why is the anger always blurred when I’m with him?

“Just so you know, I absolutely despise this arrangement,” I say as I grip the back of his head and burrow his head deeper.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“I hate you. And I hate this engagement. I hate all of this. You ruin my life.”

“Be careful there, hellcat. Someone might actually believe you.”

“It’s true,” I hiss when I sense sharp teeth grazing my veins. “I hate you.”

“Duly noted.” He comes up, looks me in the eye, and why, why do his eyes have to be so mesmerizing, so golden, so, so beautiful? Goddamn him. “Are we going to keep talking?”

“If that’s what you want—”

He seals my mouth. Only coming up for air to say, “No. I hate hearing the sound of your voice.”

So, I screamed his name. Out loud. Over and over again.

~ ~ ~

Don’t judge me. I’m only twenty and one of human age, which makes me pretty young and inexperienced in the Vampyr world. I haven’t even gotten my Blood Bank license, yet. If you want to know what that is, stick around. Maybe I’ll explain later on. But the point is, do not dare judge me and the infuriating dog.

I don’t remember when and how this affair even happened. Maybe it was too much A Positive blood that was running in my throat, or the fact that he looked like a Greek God if there was ever a Greek God who was part Wolf. Maybe it was because of the deep hatred of being two sides of the coin. One is the Crown Prince of the Wolf Kingdom. And one is, well, yeah, just the middle child of the High Lord of the Vampyr.

But the point is, we’re supposed to hate each other with a burning passion. But maybe, that night, the passion was a little bit blurry. His golden eyes were a little too bright, and my mind was a little too high from the blood.

Note to self: Never let Romano feed you again. Ever. Maybe he spiked my blood.

Somehow, among the many, many meetings of the Affiliation, we ended up having an Affair of our own.

Kind of ironic, but it happened. Again. And again. And maybe again, but who’s really counting, right?

Prime groans. He drops his head to the wall next to my head, breathing hard and raggedly like he had just ran a marathon. I dropped my head on his shoulder. Weak. Frail. A disgusting puny at his hands. But I was thoroughly and utterly satiated.

I’m not even counting from one to five.

“One dreadful year,” Prime is saying. “One year of waiting.”

The Crown Prince let go of me, and I slid into the wall with shaky legs. Upon coming back from the high, I quickly fix my dress and my tangled hair, while Prime does the same. We both stare at each other, thinking of how the hell we ended up here, but there is only satisfaction brewing for one another.

Prime flicks my jaw. “I see you’re going to become my little bride.”

“Don’t remind me of how old you actually are,” I scrunch my nose in disgust. Lie. It was a disgusting lie. Because there is always something that makes me want to lie down every single time I remember about the age difference. Something that makes me hot and bothered.

Maybe Xanthene did drop me when I was a baby Vampyr. Or Romano really did spike my drink. Because I have never been the same ever since.

“I am thirty and nine years of human age,” he growls. “I’m not old.”

“You’re pushing forty, Pups.” His eyes flashed red again. Oh, it never gets old. Calling him a puppy will always be my one and only weapon against him. “You’re that old.”

He really is not. Weres, despite being such a horrible being, age beautifully like wine. Not that I can even taste what wine is like. But the point is, he looks as young as the night before twelve. He’s undeniably young, from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. He’s a powerful being, so ethereal in his own way, that it always captivates everyone around him. Maybe it has something to do with those golden eyes.

The point is, again, he looks nothing like a forty-year-old man should look like.

Which is unfair. Truly.

“And what are you? Like ninety-nine pushing a hundred?”

My ears burn. “I’m only eighty-seven!”

“That’s awfully younger than what I expected. Am I engaging with an underage Vampyr here, Ramone?”

Ramone. He never calls me by my name. It’s always Ramone, Hellcat, Bloodsucker, Little Obedient Vampyr, and my personal favorite, Furyball. I don’t know why it is my favorite.

“Shut up. We reach adulthood at fifty.”

Prime looks painstakingly amused. Oh, for the love of Blood and Tears and Sweat. I hope Duncan still keeps the White Oak Tree around here. He twirls my hair in his hand, smelling my scent like the dog that he is. “Thank the Moon Goddess. It’d be really awkward and, not to mention, utterly inappropriate.”

“How’s your Dad?”

His jaw clenches. “He’s fine.”

“I hope he is,” I say. A little more genuine than I’d like. “I’m—sorry. For what Duncan did. For all that matters, no one will miss him.”

“You look like you’re in pain. Is this the first time for you?”

“What?”

“Apologizing.”

“I’m really thirsty. Don’t make me act up.”

“Aw, did I pop your apology cherry?”

“I will snap your neck, take your head, and hang it in my bedroom as an ordinance, Prime.”

He shivers. At what?

Prime Whitemane, mega beast, giant wolf, Crown Prince of the Kingdom, and an excellent neck biter, grins. “I would love nothing more than that.”

Ugh.

“We should get going.” I bat his hand away, fixing my hair once again.

“Eager to be engaged with me, aren’t you?”

“Why? Are you?”

“Hmm, it won’t be the most terrible thing I’d ever do.” His eyes skimmed my body up and down.

I feel a pang in my chest. But I bury it away with anger and malice. I walk away, my heels clicking against the marble floor, dragging my body and my madness.

I hate him.

I hate Prime Whitemane with a burning passion.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.