Chapter 36
Viviane’s POV
I wish I could talk to Kiera.
It’s been a week since we spoke, since Caspian moved Mom and me into the Pack House despite my fervent objections. I’m still angry with them both, but keeping up the silent treatment is infinitely more difficult when I don’t have my best friend to lean on.
I’ve tried calling her dozens of times, but she never answers. At school she walks past me in the hallway as if she can’t even see me, which would be bad enough as it is. With Caspian’s added security measures, no one but Kiera is allowed to come within ten feet of me and even if they could, who would possibly be brave enough to try with Caspian’s guards tailing me at every turn.
I’ve tried to tell him countless times that his precautions are only going to draw more attention to me, but he won’t listen. No, while my teachers watch me with sharp eyes – sizing up the Pack’s future Luna– the other girls glare at me through the lenses of green eyed monsters and the boys try to pretend they aren’t ogling at me, something I never had to worry about while I wore my sunglasses.
In the meantime all the casual friends and acquaintances I would normally chat with during the day treat me like a social pariah. Caspian wanted me to become untouchable, and I have. What he does not understand is how stifling and lonely his brand of safety is.
He’s there waiting for me at the end of the day – like always – leaning against his motorcycle with a predatory grin while he watches me descend the school steps. Every eye on the front lawns of both Asterion High and the Nightshade Academy watch as I sulkily approach him, allowing myself to be pulled into his arms for a hello kiss. He paws me possessively, walking the line between guarding my modestly while leaving no doubt to our onlookers about the nature of our relationship.
“How was your day, kitten?” Caspian purrs against my neck. My stomach fills with butterflies at his every touch, even as resentful thoughts whirl through my head. I refuse to answer, squirming as his stubble scrapes the sensitive skin of my throat and deepening my pout when he finally pulls back to look me in the face.
Though I’m giving him my best glare, the future Alpha exudes nothing but warmth. “I brought you something.”
Of course. In addition to simple persistence, unwavering affection and blatantly provoking my own desire, the cunning shifter has also been showering me with gifts. Caspian’s campaign to win my forgiveness has been very well-strategized, and every day he wears me down a little more.
Today he draws a box of truffles with a distinctive gold label from behind his back, and my eyes widen before I can stop them. I’ve always dreamed of tasting the treats sold in Asterion’s most exclusive chocolaterie, and I never dreamed I would actually get the chance. The price tag on the box has been removed, but I know how much these delicacies cost – I’ve certainly slobbered over their window displays enough.
Caspians smile is so smug I want to be very petty and refuse the treats, but I can’t bring myself to do so. Say what you like about “buying love” and accepting handouts, I don’t know anyone in my position who would do otherwise.
Pride isn’t a luxury afforded to a slave. I never dreamed I would have freedom or possessions of my own, and after we escaped, surviving meant relying on others for help. We could not afford to have standards, morals or principles if we wanted to live to see the next sunrise.
I don’t believe people should harm or take advantage of each other, but if this wolf – who owns half the city and has completely upended my life– wants to lavish his wealth on me, I’m not going to stop him. I’m not leading him on, and I’m not promising anything in return.
I hug the box to my chest, my grumpy expression transforming against my will, and dropping an appreciative peck on the hard plane of his cheek.
The smugness fades, replaced by a beam and another kiss, “Well it looks like I found your weak spot.”
“Come on gorgeous, tell me and I’ll give you another bite.” Caspian is sprawled above me, his weight carefully balanced to avoid crushing me as he dangles a truffle over my lips. It seems showing my preference for the sweets was a mistake, because my devious mate quickly used the information to his advantage.
Earlier this week I made a rule that Caspian can’t set foot in my rooms, so when we got back to the Pack House, he tossed me over his shoulder before I could run up to my refuge. I pounded ineffectually on his back with my small fists, my only recourse for rebellion if I wanted to maintain my silence.
“What’s that sweetheart?” He’d teased, “You want me to put you down?”
Grumbling with indignation, I landed a particularly sharp blow on his backside, causing the big shifter to jolt slightly . He’d settled his oversized hand threateningly on my own, upturned behind, and I went still. “All you have to do is say the word, Viviane.” He reminded me, kneading the flesh beneath his palm until staying still and quiet felt nearly impossible.
I’d leapt away from him the moment he put me down in his rooms, but that was before the bribery began. It hadn’t taken long for the promise of chocolate and Caspian’s touch had lured me back to the shifter, and now he’s lying above me on the sofa – blackmailing me with sugar.
I’m mad at you. I tell him through our bond, hoping the half concession will earn me some credit.
Luckily for me, Caspian feels guilty enough for upsetting me that he caves, lowering the exquisite chocolate to my lips. I know. He frowns, I want to make it better, just tell me how.
“You know how!’ I exclaim out loud, unable to hold back the words. I clamp my lips shut afterward, scowling up at the handsome shifter as he sits back slightly, dragging a hand over his face.
“I can’t undo it, baby.” His blue eyes shrink beneath his furrowed brow. “Bringing you here was the right decision.”
I cross my arms over my chest and turn my face from his defiantly, unsurprised when a truffle appears above me a minute later. The morsel is already melting between Caspian’s furnace-like fingers, and I have to fight the urge to lean up and swipe my tongue over the drop of molten chocolate trailing toward me. “There must be something I can do, something that will help make this better.”
Cocking my brow, I propose. “Get rid of the guards when I’m at school.” I can see the refusal already welling on Caspian’s tongue, so I do what I imagined, rising on my elbows to close my lips around his fingers and the chocolate they hold hostage. I suck the digits into my mouth, laving my tongue over his skin until every drop of sweetness is gone, replaced only by the salty flavor of my mate.
Caspian groans, “little temptress.” His mouth tries to follow mine when I release him, but I deny him again, feeling oddly powerful to have reduced such a dangerous creature to this. “I suppose I deserve that. I haven’t been very fair to you in all this.”
“I’m alone all the time, Caspian.” The tell-tale squeak in my voice bring’s Caspians hands to either side of my face, braced to offer comfort. “No one will come near me at school because they’re too afraid of you, and the only person who might have come here won’t.”
His thumb strokes my temple sympathetically. “You wouldn’t be so alone if you’d talk to me, Viviane.”
I’m so ashamed of my next thought I can’t even speak it in my mind.
“What is it?” Caspian questions, reading my expression.
I feel the tears well on my lashes, but I refuse to let them fall, giving voice to the horrible idea in a guilty whisper. “I want you to feel what I am.”
Caspian’s POV
Wolf shifters have always held the highest status in Asterion, but I never quite realized how large the disparity was with other groups until I met Viviane. Seeing her home had been a punch to the gut I’ll never forget, but even Kiera’s modest home sends a stab of guilt through me.
Some leaders we are, offering comfort and safety to those like us, then abandoning all who are not. Does my father realize how bad things are in his city, or has he always been too distracted by his personal life to notice?
Kiera answers the door wearing a mask of nonchalance which does nothing to hide her animosity towards me. She looks me up and down, her feline scent so pure and unmuddled I wonder how I could have ever mistaken Viviane for one of her kind. “Mr. Shaw.” She says once she’s finished, “To what do we owe this honor.
I cut my eyes to the lynx, unamused. “We need to talk.”
