Clearing her throat, Rose bowed slightly and smiled. "Alpha," she called.
Straining her head, Lilith almost rolled her eyes at Rose's shift in demeanor. She wondered if that was what Zayd liked, submissive women but then, given he wanted her to submit, there was no surprise in that. But she felt a fleeting relief, though she knew it was far too soon to celebrate. Still, she was grateful, his presence had halted the beating. Had he not entered, she would have surely fainted.
Zayd strode into the room without a word, closing the distance to Lilith before lifting her effortlessly.
"What are you doing?!" Margaret yelled, rising to her feet and stepping forward.
Without sparing her a glance, he addressed the maids over his shoulder. "Help Mother to her room." Then he turned, carrying Lilith away.
But Margaret was not finished. She stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "I am teaching a rude slave a lesson. She may belong to you, but I oversee discipline in the pack house. You cannot simply take her from me."
Zayd remained still, meeting her gaze with a blank stare. "I gave a strict order for her to be locked up. Unless she was dragged here herself, she could not have dared to offend you."
Margaret fell silent. There was no witness to support her claim, there was nothing she could do.
"Fine. Take her," she bit out, clenching her fists. As she watched them retreat, rage clouded her thoughts. She would not let Lilith get away with this. No one had ever dared to disrespect her, and she would make sure the girl learned who ruled the pack house.
As Zayd walked, Lilith exhaled deeply, mustering what little strength remained to lift her gaze. She searched his face, trying to decipher what lay behind his impenetrable expression. Always unreadable. Always composed. But then her vision wavered, blurring at the edges. She shook her head, struggling to stay awake. She needed to know where he was taking her. Yet the harder she fought, the heavier her eyelids became, until darkness consumed her.
Hours later, Lilith stirred, a low groan escaping her lips as she slowly opened her eyes. The light in the room stung at first, but she adjusted, exhaling deeply before attempting to sit up only to be held back.
"What?!" She gasped, her head snapping up. Her wrists were bound, cuffed to the head of the bed. Heat flared in her cheeks, not in embarrassment, but in fury. He had chained an injured woman?
Then, as her gaze dropped to her body, she curled in on herself. She was dressed in nothing but her bra and panties.
"That bastard," she hissed, yanking at the cuffs, trying in vain to break free. They were too strong.
She should never have lost consciousness, she should have endured until she knew his true intentions. Why had she even dared to hope? He had not saved her. He had merely claimed her for a different kind of torment.
Suddenly, she remembered her injury and glanced down at her thigh, frowning at the sight of fresh bandages. He couldn't have treated her… could he? The thought unsettled her. Lost in contemplation, she didn't notice anyone entering the room until the door slammed shut, making her flinch.
Curling up on the bed, she turned toward the door and her breath caught when her gaze met his. Those piercing golden eyes always sent an inexplicable shiver through her. But why did he look angry? Was it her fault that his mother and lover had dragged her away, nearly killing her in the process?
"What did you dream of?" His deep, husky voice sent a ripple down her spine. There was no denying that this man exuded a raw, almost predatory sensuality, one that could make anyone fall for him. But not her. Never her. No matter how hard he tried, she would never succumb to him.
"I do not dream," she said flatly, composing herself.
He paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. Then, after a moment, he murmured, "I see," and resumed his approach.
When he reached the bed, he tucked his hands into his pockets, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that made her uneasy. His scrutiny felt offensive, lingering too long. She despised it when men looked at her with such hunger and she never let it go unchallenged.
Yet something caught her attention. A soft hum escaped her lips as she noted that, this time, he was wearing pants though his chest remained bare. Her eyes dropped to them, and an unbidden thought slipped into her mind. How firm would they feel beneath her touch? Would his scars be rough under her fingertips? They looked so… painful. Wait! Why did she care about that? Perhaps they were the price of his own cruelty. He certainly seemed the type to kill without remorse. She had no reason to care about her captor.
Tearing her gaze away, she cleared her throat and asked, "When are you going to release me?" Though she already knew the answer.
"When I am done with you," he replied smoothly.
She barely had time to register his words before he grabbed her legs and pulled her down, forcing her flat on her back. In an instant, he was above her, his thighs pressing firmly against hers, keeping her pinned.
"What are you doing?! You scum! Let me go this instant!" She spat, thrashing beneath him. But the cuffs hindered her movements, and the more she struggled, the more they bit into her wrists.
He ignored her. Instead, he lowered his head and latched his mouth onto her chest.
Lilith gasped, a jolt of shock and something dangerously close to pleasure shooting through her. Why did that feel so… good?
Trailing downward, his lips traced a path along her skin, stopping at the space between her breasts. There, he lingered, circling the sensitive flesh with his lips. Her breath came heavier, uneven. She hated him. Despised him. So why was her body betraying her?