Chapter 5 – Oil and Water (Damian’s POV)
“At the next full moon, less than three weeks from now, you will be my wife. That union will finalize the accord and settle your father's debt. Only then will the pack's laws be satisfied.”
For a moment there's just her ragged breathing.
Then she explodes.
“That's FUCKING CRAZY!” Ivy hurls the letter opener at me. My reflexes easily catch it mid-air before it reaches my face. She doesn't even care, already rounding the chair to confront me up close, trembling with rage. “I am not some bargaining chip! I'm not marrying you or anyone! This is the twenty-first century, you psychotic control freak!”
I let the slur slide off me, though my wolf snarls internally. I toss the letter opener aside casually, keeping my gaze locked on her. She is inches away now, glaring up at me with tears on her lashes that refuse to fall.
“I understand this is a lot to take in,” I say evenly, not like I meant it or cared. Not like she fucking mattered to me. She was just some ragdoll and this was what I had to do to satisfy the pack. “But it is law. And it will happen.”
She actually shoves me. Plants her hands on my chest and tries to shove me backwards. I don't budge, of course, which only stokes her anger more.
“I'll die before I go through with that!” she seethes. “Your 'law' is barbaric. I'm a human being, damn you, not property!”
Something about her standing toe-to-toe with me, fearless despite the fact I tower over her and could break her in half, ignites a strange mix of frustration and admiration in me. I clamp down on any softer emotions.
“You are part of this world whether you like it or not,” I say, keeping my voice cold. “It's in your blood. Denying it won't change your fate.”
She actually punches my chest now—a short, furious jab that likely hurt her hand more than me. I grab her wrist before she can do it again.
“Don't,” I warn quietly.
“Or what?” she spits. Up this close, I see the blaze of fury and panic in her eyes. “You'll force me anyway? Is that it? Big bad werewolf alpha going to drag the human girl to the altar in chains?”
Her words drip with contempt and fear. My patience thins.
“You speak of things you don't fully understand,” I growl softly. “Your father knew the consequences. This is bigger than you and me. It's about peace, about preventing war between my pack and others who wanted blood for what he did. Our marriage will secure that peace.”
She tries to yank her wrist free. I hold firm, careful not to hurt her but making the point.
“Peace? You think I'm stupid?” Her voice lowers to a tremble of barely controlled emotion. “This is about power. You get a wife who hates you, I get a life in a gilded cage. How is that peace for me?”
I have no answer that would satisfy her. So I go for truth. “It may not be fair. But it's necessary. In time—”
“In time I'll what? Grow to love you?” She laughs bitterly.
“No,” I cut in sharply. “In time, you’ll grow to serve me.”
She trembles. “Never. I will never accept this.”
Her free hand suddenly snatches something from the side table—a heavy brass candlestick—and she swings it straight for my head with surprising speed.
Enough.
I release her wrist and catch the candlestick mid-swing with my other hand. Ivy stumbles back a step, suddenly realizing just how outmatched she is physically. For the first time, true fear flickers in her eyes as she stares at me.
She backs up until her spine meets the bookshelf. I advance slowly, letting a fraction of my wolf side surface. Perhaps she needs a demonstration.
“You want to know who you're dealing with?” I say, voice roughening. “Fine.”
She presses against the shelves, eyes wide as I approach. “What are you—?”
“Giving you your 'proof',” I growl.
I allow the change to touch my eyes. The familiar heat burns through my irises as I partially shift them. I know they must be glowing now—reds and golds swirling like embers. My canines elongate slightly behind my lips.
Ivy sucks in a breath, and I catch the spike of her scent—fear spiced with awe. She’s seeing that everything I’ve claimed is real.
“Werewolf,” she whispers, as if finally believing.
My voice comes out low and distorted. “Still think I'm just a 'psycho' human?”
Her throat bobs in a swallow. Her courage wavers but doesn't break. “What...what else can you do?” she asks, almost a dare and a plea all at once.
I narrow my blazing eyes. “You don't want to see my true form, Ivy.”
She lifts her chin, though I smell her terror. “Maybe I do. Show me. Show me the monster I'm supposed to marry.”
I snarl—half in frustration, half in warning. Does she have any self-preservation at all? “No.”
She balls her fists. “Why not? Afraid I'll find your weakness? Or maybe you're not as scary as you want me to think.”
Anger flares. In a blink, I pin her against the bookshelf. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that she feels utterly trapped between the wooden shelves and my body.
She exhales a little moan-like cry, eyes huge. I lean in, keeping my hands braced to either side of her head on the shelf. The scent of her hair clouds my mind.
“You think I'm not scary enough?” I whisper, letting a bit of the wolf rasp in my tone. “I could break you in two without breaking a sweat.”
The silence stretches. I realize I'm still pinning her. Our faces are close enough that a stray lock of her dark hair tickles my cheek. The awareness sparks through me—and her, if the way her pulse jumps is any sign.
I clear my throat and push off the shelf, stepping back. My voice is once more controlled. “Now you truly understand who holds the power here.”
“You might force me to this sham of a marriage, Damian, but I will never be your wife in any way that matters. I will never love you, obey you, or share your bed willingly. Remember that. You can shove the ring up your ass!”
I chuckle vainly. If only she knew that was coming… something aside the Blood Accord; that in twenty-four hours, she’ll be dead…