The Alpha's Forbidden Vow novel Chapter 37

POV: Selene

The next day, a fragile truce held.

Isabella avoided Leo, and Leo avoided her, a silent war waged across the vast manor.

Zane was gone for most of the day, locked in meetings with pack elders.

It was a small reprieve.

I took Leo out into the gardens in the afternoon, to a secluded part of the grounds with an old stone fountain.

The autumn air was crisp, and for a few precious moments, I could almost pretend we were free.

Leo was chasing a vibrant yellow butterfly, his laughter echoing in the quiet garden.

The sound was so pure, so full of joy, that an involuntary smile spread across my face.

It was the first real smile I’d had since I was dragged back here.

A genuine, unburdened expression of happiness, brought on by the sight of my son.

I did not know that I was being watched.

I did not know that Zane was staring down from the window of his study, his gaze a physical weight I could not feel.

I did not know that my smile, a simple, maternal thing, was the trigger that would unleash the storm.

That night, after I had put Leo to bed, I retreated to my small, servant’s room.

I was exhausted, my body and soul worn thin by the constant tension.

I had just changed into a thin, worn-out nightgown when my door was thrown open without a knock.

Zane stood there, filling the doorway, a figure of pure, menacing darkness.

He had been drinking. I could smell the sharp, clean scent of whiskey on him, mingled with his own intoxicating musk.

His eyes were not drunk, though. They were blazing with a raw, possessive fire that made my blood run cold.

“What do you want?” I whispered, backing away until my legs hit the edge of my small bed.

“You,” he snarled, his voice a low, guttural growl.

He stalked into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

The small space was suddenly suffocating, filled with his power, his rage.

“I saw you today,” he said, advancing on me. “In the garden.”

His mouth crashed down on mine, a brutal, punishing kiss that was not meant to give pleasure, but to conquer.

He tasted of whiskey and a rage so deep it was indistinguishable from pain.

I fought him, my body twisting, my muffled sobs lost against his lips.

But then, the curse of the mate bond, the traitorous, primal connection between our souls, began to stir.

My body, against my will, began to react.

A shiver of unwilling arousal traced its way down my spine.

He felt it. The Alpha in him sensed my body’s reluctant surrender, and a low growl of triumph rumbled in his chest.

He tore his mouth from mine, his eyes blazing. “You feel that, don’t you? You can’t hide it. Your body still knows who its master is.”

He ripped the rest of my nightgown away, leaving me completely exposed.

He entered me with a single, powerful thrust, a brutal claiming that was more about ownership than passion.

It was a punishment. It was a brand. It was him trying to physically erase the memory of another man from my soul.

And the most twisted part of it all, the part that shattered the last of my pride, was that a part of my body, the deep, instinctual she-wolf inside, welcomed him home.