Chapter 3
Isla
I woke up with a headache the size of an ocean. My head throbbed and my lower back felt so sore. A dull, pounding ache sat just behind my eyes as I peeled them open and squinted at the unfamiliar ceiling. Soft sheets, silk, cocooned my body. The air smelled like cedarwood and something else. Something masculine.
Wait a minute.
This isn't my room.
Panic rose like a wave in my chest and I bolted upright. The sudden movement made my vision spin. A sharp gasp left my throat as I realized I was dressed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt that didn't belong to me.
What the hell happened last night?
A shiver rippled through me and I pressed a hand to my chest. Had I really…?
Before the thought could fully form, the sound of a door creaked open.
I turned and my heart leapt to my throat.
Standing by the door wrapped in nothing but white robe that clung loosely to his lean, muscular frame was the man I remembered. His short dark hair tousled and dripping from shower, droplets trailing down his face and collarbone and his stormy-grey eyes…
Dear Goddess.
This has got to be a dream.
Bits and pieces came to me in foggy flashes.
Hotel Del Belles . The club. The bar. A letter from Richard. Me, waiting and drinking. Drinking.
Oh goddess.
I remembered the hallway. The wrong turn. The Alpha trio.
Voices. Hands. Fear.
And then a man.
Stormy-grey eyes, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, leather and woodsy scent.
"W - who are you?" I demanded, dragging the sheet up to my chest. My voice came out hoarse like I had screamed for days.
He tilted his head. "Tristan."
No last name. Just Tristan. Like I was supposed to know who he was.
"What the hell is going on?" I whispered.
He didn't answer immediately.
I blinked but he was still there. Still dangerously handsome. He raised an eyebrow at my reaction, clearly amused.
“Morning,” the handsome stranger said smoothly.
I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“Feeling okay?” He asked, walking towards me with a confidence that made my stomach twist. “You had a rough night.”
I clutched the sheets closer to my chest. “I … where am I?”
“My penthouse.” He replied like it was the most normal answer in the world.
Then he nodded towards the nightstand. "If you're fully awake, you can go ahead and sign the paper beside you."
I blinked at him. "Sorry?"
"The paper." His voice was smooth, deep, and entirely devoid of emotion. "It's important you do."
Still confused, I turned my head.
And there it was, neatly placed on the bedside table. A single sheet of paper, perfectly creased with a pen waiting beside it like an obedient servant.
With trembling fingers, I reached for it.
My eyes scanned the bold words at the top and my stomach dropped.
MARRIAGE CONTRACT.
I froze. "What is this?"
"Your payment for my saving you and yes, it's exactly what it looks like," he said, standing up and walking towards a chair where his clothes were folded.
"You're joking."
"I'm not."
He clearly wasn't.
He pulled on a pair of tailored black trousers and began buttoning up a white dress shirt, slow and unfazed that I was watching. Slow and unfazed like he asking me, a total stranger, to marry him was normal behaviour.
I stared at him. My mouth opened and closed. Opened again. No sound came out.
I should've screamed. I should've asked where I was and punched him but all I could do was stare like an idiot while he folded his sleeves to his elbow, revealing forearms carved by the Moon Goddess herself or whatever sadistic deity he believed in.
My wolf gave a pleased shiver when he flexed his arms.
I scowled and threw the paper to the floor. "Absolutely not."
He turned, one brow raised. "Pick it up."
"Excuse me?"
"I said pick it up."
I crossed my arms and glared at him, even though I was wearing nothing but an oversized shirt which was his shirt no doubt. "For all I know you kidnapped me."
He let out a dry laugh. "If I kidnapped you, you'd be in chains not silk sheets."
"Wow. Comforting." I rolled my eyes. "You could be one of those Alphas who tried to rape me. You're expecting me to thank you for this little honour?"
He looked.me.dwad in the eyes. "If I anted to force myself on someone, I wouldn't choose an Omega."
The words hit harden than I expected.
Like a punch to the gut.
Suddenly, I was enight again, hiding behind mother's skirt, listening to the elders call her "useless" after she gave bother to a daughter instead of a son. Watching her weaken, day by day, until she died without a single sound shedding a tear for her.
She'd been an Omega. Just like me. Just as hated. Just as powerless.
I clenched my jaw. Looked away. Bit down the pain before it swallowed me whole.
Tristan didn't press. He didn't say anything else. He picked up the contract I'd thrown and placed it back on the table. "Sign it."
"Why?"
He paused. "Because you might not be the woman I wanted, Isla. But you're the woman I need."
I stared at him.
What did that even mean?
"I need someone who won't run when things get difficult. Someone whose fear won't fear mine. And yours..." he met my gaze. "Your wolf already agrees."
Right on cue, my traitorous wolf gave me a delighted whimper inside me.
No. Absolutely not.
I shook my head. "You say all that like it's some grand fate but I don't believe in the Moon Goddess."
His expression didn't change. "She believedms in you."
"Well, she can take her divine matchmaking and shove it."
"I wouldn't advise pissing off the divine goddess."
"I already did that when she made me an Omega."
I shoved off the bed, grabbing my clothes from the floor and pulling them on one kinb at a time. My hands were shaking.
"You're making a mistake." He said.
"Good. I've and eolently. One more won't kill me."
I stormed toward the door, the anger and confusion knotting in my chest like fire.
"Isla," he called after me. "At least return my shirt."
"Shut up!" I yelled over rmy shoulder.
And then I ran.
Out the door. Down the long, winding hallway that semller too expensive for someone like me.
I reached the lobby.
The grandfather clock ticked loudly.
9 AM
Crap. It's past breakfast time.
My step-grandmother would be expecting me. Probably with a threat. If she'd found out I'd spent the night out or worse with a stranger, I'd be dead.
I oicked up my oacez running harder. Not just because I wanted to hide.
Bue because if I saw Tristan again, I wasn't sure what I'd do.
Scream at him?
Hit him?
Kiss him?
No.
I'd made the right choice by running. I had to believe that was enough.