It’s been a week since Kristen had been locked up in the Vance estate, and he was bored out of his mind.
He’d expected…
well, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected.
Torture, maybe.
Some kind of brutal vampire initiation.
Endless hours of being paraded around in front of cold-eyed coven members while Julian smirked and called him pet names designed to humiliate.
At the very least, he’d assumed there would be something to do—meetings to attend, rules to learn, expectations to meet.
Instead, he’d spent seven days wandering the same hallways, eating lavish meals, and sleeping in a bed that probably cost more than his entire cabin back home.
Julian was gone most of the day, attending to coven business that he never bothered to explain.
The staff—a rotating cast of silent, efficient humans who never met Kristen’s eyes—appeared only to clean and deliver food.
No one spoke to him.
It was, without question, the most boring captivity imaginable.
‘We could shift and tear up the furniture,’ his wolf suggested on day three, its voice carrying the particular brand of restless energy that came from being cooped up too long.
I’m not a Pup!
And We are not tearing up the furniture.
‘The curtains, then.
They’re ugly.’
The curtains are fine.
‘You’re no fun.’
Kristen scoffed at the so-called big bad wolf.
By day five, Kristen had explored every inch of the east wing that he was apparently permitted to access.
The library was impressive but largely useless—most of the books were in languages he couldn’t read, and the few that weren’t seemed to be dense histories of vampire bloodlines that made his eyes glaze over.
The kitchen staff shooed him out whenever he tried to linger, which he found deeply offensive given that it was technically his kitchen now too.
Or maybe it wasn’t.
He’d tried the garden once, a sprawling courtyard tucked between the two forward-sweeping wings of the chateau.
It was beautiful.
Perfectly trimmed hedges, a stone fountain that burbled quietly, benches positioned at mathematically precise intervals along gravel paths.
But the walls were high, the gate was locked, and the sky overhead felt impossibly far away.
He hadn’t gone back.
‘We’re going to die of boredom,’ his wolf announced on day six.
‘This is how they kill us.
Not with fangs.
With nothing.’
Without his wolf, he would have gone off the deep end.
“It’s only been a week,” Kristen muttered aloud, sprawled across the emerald velvet sofa in the living room.
He’d taken to talking to himself more openly now.
There was no one around to hear him, and pretending to be sane felt like too much effort.
‘A week of staring at walls.
A week of eating alone.
A week of waiting for a vampire who barely even looks at us when he comes to bed.’
That last part stung more than Kristen wanted to admit.
Julian returned to the master suite every night, slipping through the door long after Kristen had given up pretending not to wait for him.
He never touched Kristen.
He simply undressed in the dark, lay down on his side of the bed, and stayed there, a cold, silent presence that Kristen had grown uncomfortably accustomed to.
He should have been relieved.
He was relieved.
The contract had made it clear what was expected of him, what Julian was entitled to, and every night that passed without the vampire exercising those rights felt like a small, borrowed victory.
So why did he feel so restless?
‘Because you want him to touch you,’ his wolf said, unhelpfully.
“I do not,” Kristen hissed, his face flushing.
‘You think about it.
At night.
When he’s lying right there.
You think about his touch’
Kristen pressed a throw pillow over his face and screamed into it.
The pillow was silk, because of course it was, and it muffled absolutely nothing.
When he emerged, breathless and slightly more composed, he found himself staring at the ceiling and wondering what his pack was doing right now.
Whether Dalton’s ribs had healed.
Whether Malachi was still worrying himself sick.
And Theo.
He missed Theo.
Missed his crooked grin and the way he tossed apple cores into the trash like he was scoring points in some invisible game.
Missed the easy way he’d throw an arm around Kristen’s shoulders, warm and solid and entirely oblivious to what that casual touch did to Kristen’s pulse.
He wondered if Theo was thinking about him right now.
Probably not the way Kristen wanted him to.
Probably he was sitting in the packhouse common room, laughing at something Malachi said, his chocolate-brown eyes crinkling at the corners, still working up the nerve to say something to Scarlet.
That was the thing about unrequited feelings.
They didn’t go anywhere.
They just sat in your chest, quiet and heavy, and you carried them around because there was nowhere else to put them.
And now there was nowhere to put them ever.
He was married.
Bound.
Property of a vampire. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Whatever slim, hypothetical chance he’d ever had with Theo—if he’d ever had one at all—was gone.
‘You never told him,’ his wolf said.
It wasn’t a question.
No, Kristen thought.
He never had.
And now he never would.
It stung.
Tears filled the corner of his eyes.
Goddess.
He missed his mother’s stern lectures and his father’s quiet, steady presence.
He missed the forest—the real forest, not the manicured trees behind iron gates.
He missed dirt under his feet and wind in his fur and the simple, uncomplicated freedom of running.
‘We could run here,’ his wolf offered.
‘The grounds are large enough.’
It’s not the same.
‘No,’ the wolf agreed quietly.
‘It’s not.’
On the seventh day, Kristen woke to find a garment bag hanging on the wardrobe door.
He stared at it for a long moment, his sleep-fogged brain struggling to process what he was seeing.
The bag was black, sleek, with the discreet silver logo of a designer he’d never heard of embossed on the zipper pull.
A small cream-colored card was tucked into the hanger.
Kristen pulled it free and read the elegant, looping handwriting:
Tonight.
Formal introduction to the coven.
Be ready by seven.
—J
No pet names.
No teasing.
Just a time and an expectation.
Kristen’s stomach dropped.
He’d almost forgotten Jonathon’s parting words.
Tonight, apparently, was the night.
He unzipped the garment bag with the enthusiasm of a man approaching his own execution.
Inside was a suit.
It was black, obviously, because vampires seemed physically incapable of dressing in anything else, but the fabric was softer than anything Kristen had ever owned, and when he reluctantly tried it on, it fit him perfectly.
Too perfectly.
Julian had either taken his measurements while he was asleep—which was creepy—or he’d simply guessed based on whatever vampire observation skills he possessed.
Either option was unsettling.
Kristen stood in front of the full-length mirror and barely recognized himself.
The suit transformed him.
He looked…
polished.
Like someone who belonged in this cold marble palace instead of a cramped cabin in the woods.
His eyes were the only thing that says he’s still a wolf.
For that, he’s relieved.
‘You look good,’ his wolf offered.
“I look like one of them.”
Maybe that’s the point.
At precisely seven o’clock, a knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Kristen opened it to find Julian standing in the hallway, dressed in a black suit of his own, his dark hair swept back and his crimson eyes gleaming with something that might have been approval.
“You’re ready,” Julian said.
It wasn’t a question.
Julian’s gaze swept over him, lingering on the collar, the cut of the jacket, the way the fabric hugged his shoulders.
“It suits you,” he said, and there was no mockery in it.
Just a quiet, matter-of-fact observation that made Kristen’s skin prickle with pride.
He tried to change the conversation, “Where are we going?”
“The west wing.
The coven has gathered in the formal hall.” Julian paused, and something flickered in his expression—hesitation, maybe, or something close to it.
“My father will be there.
As will the senior council.
They’ll want to…
inspect you.”
“Inspect me,” Kristen repeated flatly.
“You’re an anomaly, Kristen.
A golden-eyed Alpha who can half-shift and speak to his wolf.
You’re the first of your kind most of them have ever seen.
They’re curious.” Julian’s tone was light, but his jaw was tight.
“Curiosity, in my family, is rarely a good thing.
Try not to draw too much attention to yourself.”
“Hard to do when I’m the only wolf in a room full of vampires.”
“Fair point.” Julian almost smiled.
Almost.
Don’t speak unless spoken to.
And if anyone touches you—”
“I thought I was supposed to be untouchable,” Kristen interrupted.
“That’s what you told me.
Your property, your protection.”
Julian’s expression darkened.
“The contract protects you from most of them, not all of them.
And it doesn’t protect you from my father.” He stepped closer, close enough that Kristen could feel the familiar chill radiating off his skin.
“If he speaks to you again, you come find me.
Do you understand?”
Kristen didn’t answer.
He just held Julian’s gaze, golden eyes steady and unblinking.
“Kristen.” Julian’s voice sharpened.
“Do you understand?”
“I heard you.” Kristen stepped back, putting distance between them.
“But let’s get something straight.
I’m not going to come find you like some frightened pup running to its parents.
If your father touches me again, I’ll handle it myself.”
“You’ll handle it.” Julian’s tone was flat.
Disbelieving.
“You’ll handle Jonathon Vance.
The man who once flayed a council member alive for using the wrong fork at a formal dinner.”
“I didn’t say I’d win.
I said I’d handle it.” Kristen rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the phantom weight of Jonathon’s hand.
“I’ve eaten your food and slept in your bed and let you play house.
But I am still an Alpha.
I am still the future leader of the Ironbound pack.
And I am not—” his voice cracked on the word, but he forced it steady, “—going to cower every time your father looks at me.”
Julian stared at him.
The mask was gone.
Underneath it, he looked exhausted.
And furious.
And something else Kristen couldn’t read.
“You’re an idiot,” Julian said finally.
“Probably.”
“He’ll break you.
Not tonight, maybe not next week, but eventually.
That’s what he does.
He finds the cracks and he presses until it’s shattered.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not your last acquisition, isn’t it?” Kristen shot back.
“You’ve got plenty of experience watching him do it.
Must be nice, just standing there while he—”
“Don’t.” Julian’s voice was ice.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The silence between them stretched taut.
Somewhere in the distance, the grandfather clock chimed the half-hour.
Kristen exhaled slowly.
He’d struck a nerve.
He wasn’t sure whether that felt like a victory or a mistake.
“Fine,” he said.
“I don’t.
But I know I’m not going to let him see me cower.
And I’m not going to let you use him as an excuse to keep me on a leash.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“This isn’t about the leash.
This is about keeping you alive.”
“Is it?” Kristen tilted his head.
“Or is it about getting the upper hand with your daddy?”
The words landed.
Julian went very, very still—the kind of stillness that preceded violence.
But when he spoke, his voice was quiet.
Controlled.
“We’re going to be late.”
He turned and walked toward the door.
This time, he didn’t offer his arm.
Didn’t wait.
Didn’t even look back.
Kristen followed, a deliberate half-step behind.
I wish you’d give me attention my lovely readers ( ≧Д≦).
I’m sorry some chapters are longer than others, there’re mostly smut or tension filled chapters I wrote on my notepad and I wouldn’t want to cut something that wouldn’t let the whole sentence make sense.
I will try to keep everything below 2k wordsಥ_ಥ