Chapter 3
1276 Words
Kieran’s POV
The soft glow of my phone illuminated the darkened room, casting shadows as I scrolled through social media. Kieran Sinclair - second son of the most feared Alpha in the region - wasn’t particularly interested in anything specific, just killing time before dinner.
A knock interrupted my mindless scrolling.
“Come in,” I called, not looking up.
Ethan entered. The difference between us was stark - where I was leaner, more contemplative, Ethan carried the same predatory intensity as our father. Born to a mistress, he’d lived as my elder brother from the moment father brought him home.
“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” Ethan asked, leaning against my door-frame.
I finally glanced up, meeting his gaze. “Dressed for what?”
“Dinner,” he responded, moving further into the room and picking up a random decoration from my side table. “Father brought home a special guest.”
Something in his tone made me put my phone down. “Special guest? You mean another woman?”
Ethan’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Not just another woman, Kieran. This one seems different. Father talked about her differently this time.”
I leaned back in my chair, intrigued. “How so?”
“He used words like ‘permanent’,” Ethan explained, setting down the decoration. “Sounds like the old man is finally tired of his weekly rotation of women.”
My heart twinge with unexpected sympathy. “Poor girl,” I muttered. “No one deserves to be permanently trapped in Sinclair’s world.”
Ethan laughed - a sharp, mirthless sound. “Trapped is exactly the word. She’s basically a transaction. Traded from one pack to settle a debt.”
“That’s barbaric,” I responded, standing up and moving towards my wardrobe.
“Welcome to the Sinclair pack,” Ethan said drily. “Where everything, and everyone has a price.” then he left, giving me my privacy.
After dressing in a black attire, I joined Ethan at the dining table.
We were discussing some pack territory negotiations when Ethan suddenly went silent mid-sentence.
“Damn,” he whispered. “She’s hot.”
I turned, following his gaze. And my entire world stopped.
Sheryl.
The girl I’d been secretly following on social media was real. Not just a digital image, but flesh and blood, standing right here in our dining hall.
She looked different in person. So breathtaking. Her rich brown hair cascaded down her slender neck like a waterfall of night, so silky and soft, I felt like touching them. Her green eyes held a mixture of fear and defiance that was absolutely mesmerizing. Her waist was narrow and defined, curving inwards like a delicate hourglass. But what kept me hooked, were her breast. OMG! They were so full and luscious, straining against the fabric of her dress like ripe fruit. I could bury myself in them all day.
Something primal stirred within me. My wolf - usually calm and calculating - suddenly went wild. Recognition. Mate.
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
The girl my father just brought home as his “property” was my destined mate.
*******
Sheryl’s POV
My heart raced as I was led to the dining room. Every step felt like walking to an execution - which, in many ways, might not be far from the truth. You’ll probably end up like his previous wife, dead and forgotten. Those chilling words kept ringing in my ears
The room was massive - a dining hall that could easily accommodate fifty people, yet only four place settings were laid out. When Helen led me to my seat, I tried to maintain some semblance of composure - a difficult task when I was outright terrified.
Two men were already at the table. The first - broader, more aggressive-looking - held himself with a confrontational energy. But the second…my breath caught.
He was leaner, with a more refined build. Handsome wasn’t even the right word. Striking. Mesmerizing. Something about him made my heart race in a way that was completely unexpected.
Our eyes met. Time seemed to stop.
There was something in his gaze that made my heart skip several beats. Not the predatory intensity of Sinclair, but something softer. Deeper. That drew me in immediately. I suddenly felt self-conscious
The more broader one broke the silence first. “So you’re the one father’s been talking about.”
It wasn’t a question. More like a statement of fact.
The leaner one remained silent, his eyes never leaving me. I felt exposed, examined, in a way that was both uncomfortable and strangely thrilling.
“Quite a trade,” the broader one continued, a hint of mockery in his voice. “Settling a debt with a person. Typical father.”
The leaner one finally spoke, his voice sending unexpected shivers down my spine. “Ethan,” he warned, a single word that carried multiple meanings.
I wanted to speak, to defend myself, to say something - anything. But the words died in my throat.
Before I could gather my courage, the room’s atmosphere changed. A predatory energy announced Sinclair’s arrival before he even entered.
He strode in like a conquering god. “My sons,” he announced, his voice cutting through the tension. “Allow me to introduce my new…companion.”
The word ‘companion’ felt clinical. A transaction. Nothing more.
“Kieran. Ethan. This is Sheryl.”
They both nodded at me, saying nothing.
Dinner began in near silence. Cutlery clinking against porcelain. Servants moving like shadows. But I couldn’t help noticing how Kieran kept stealing glances at me.
Each time our eyes met, something inexplicable passed between us.
Suddenly, Kieran pushed back his chair. “I’m full,” he announced abruptly, his voice tight.
As he left, I couldn’t help wondering. Did he despise me? Was I nothing more than another burden brought into their perfect, controlled world.
Dinner concluded in a suffocating silence. Sinclair stood up and Ethan followed suit. They both headed out of the dining hall without even a backward glance at me. Servants cleared the plates and Immediately a maid approached to escort me back to my room.
I entered my room, heaving a heavy sigh of relief and grateful for surviving another encounter with that monstrous man.
I had barely settled onto the edge of the bed when a knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts.
“Mistress,” a maid appeared at the door. “Master requests your presence.”
My blood ran cold.
“Now?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
The maid’s expression remained impassive. “Immediately,”
She stepped aside, motioning for me to precede her.
Argh… just when I thought the day was going to end on a good note! I felt like screaming. But it was against the rules. What a way to live.
I urged my tired body to move, and slowly followed behind as she led the way towards Sinclair’s chambers.
When his door opened, I understood the true meaning of intimidation.
Sinclair’s room was massive - more like a dark, primitive chamber than a bedroom. Deep burgundy walls. Heavy, dark wooden furniture. The scent of leather and something wild and primal hung in the air.
And there he was.
Naked.
Sitting on the edge of an enormous bed, his muscular back bent, elbows resting on his knees. His hands clasped together, creating a tableau of controlled power.
I froze.
My eyes couldn’t decide where to look. Shame burned my cheeks. Terror twisted in my stomach.
He looked up. his dark eyes locking onto mine.
“Strip,” he commanded.
- Writer
