Alpha Returned: A Rejected Mates Reverse Harem Shifter Series (Feral Mates Book 3)

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Alpha Returned: A Rejected Mates Reverse Harem Shifter Series (Feral Mates Book 3) Page 14

by Sabrina Thatcher


  Just like Kera.

  I sigh and set the letter down on the table beside my bed. I’ve done my best to ignore the time I’ve had to spend with my handmaidens preparing for the wedding. Luckily, Rylan has planned the lion’s share of it. He’s obviously been obsessed with it, whereas I’ve had no interest in it at all.

  Last night I was taken out to the main courtyard to run through a practice, but Rylan sent Sergei to stand in for him. It was a massive set up; all the chairs, the altar on a raised dais, the section for an orchestra, and a place for the band on the dais when the ceremony was through. Even last night as I watched the servants all working feverishly at it, setting up the banquet area for the reception, and the front of the courtyard for the ceremony, I knew it wasn’t at all near completion. They must have worked through the whole night to get it together by this morning.

  “How bad is it out there?” I ask the girls, after a moment. They shrug.

  “It’s the biggest event for shifters in two centuries. At least, the biggest we’ve held here. It’ll overtake the compound,” Elise answers.

  “Well … it’s going to be a big day no matter what happens,” I intone quietly.

  They say nothing.

  Soon, it’s almost time to go. I’ve not left my rooms all day, knowing that if I try, I’ll find Sergei—or half a dozen other guards—standing outside, waiting for any sign of me trying to flee. As I walk through the library, I glance at the crimson flower in the corner.

  It’s vibrant.

  So vibrant, it makes everything else seem to melt away.

  My heart begins to pound. No matter what happens, this will be one of the most significant days of my life. No matter what happens.

  And whatever that is, I’m about to find out.

  When the time finally comes, I step out the front door beside my handmaids and Sergei is there waiting. He bows to me and I see that his mouth has formed a thin line.

  “My lady,” he states simply. “I am to escort you to the ceremony.”

  I give him a small smile, but he remains passive and almost cool, looking straight ahead.

  “Is something wrong?” I murmur to him quietly.

  He looks for a moment as if he might be about to face me and say something in earnest, but then he stops himself. “I hope that this marriage is a good one, my lady. I only wish the best for you.”

  I realize that what he isn’t saying, but is still thinking, is that he doesn’t really feel like this marriage is the best thing for me … and he’s not happy about it occurring. I feel the same, but there’s no other choice.

  At least one shifter seems to be on my side. Sergei, my ally in this, even when Conan couldn’t. But then again, Sergei has much less left to lose.

  He holds out his arm for me, and I take it.

  It’s time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  We come to the main courtyard, and what awaits me is beyond my expectations at every level.

  Even after I was warned.

  There are more than three hundred guests seated, flowers and silk draped across every surface, and great swaths of gauzy white material canopied over the entire courtyard keeping the guests shielded from the late afternoon sun. Even the servants are dressed in white, with magenta, orange, and green details woven into the edges of their long, simple robes.

  Rylan has spared no expense. Left nothing out.

  This is his wedding, after all. His show of power.

  An orchestra takes a signal from Sergei, and we are immediately joined by several members of his guard. My own handmaidens take their place at the edge of the assemblage where the servants are all lined up along the sides, watching with emotionless gazes. I wonder if this entire place is going to be rubble before I speak my vows, and with that pleasant thought lodged firmly in the center of my mind, Sergei escorts me to the aisle.

  Rylan is waiting in a white tuxedo at the distant end of it. He looks handsome; more polished than I have ever seen him. For one moment, when I first see him, I see a flick of Roman in him.

  But only for a moment, and then he’s back to himself.

  That brief glimpse does nothing for the nausea I’m suffering. In fact, it only makes it worse. It’s all I can do to keep my feet moving forward even as my head sends the assembly spinning around me.

  The guard company walks down the aisle first to their own music, and then they turn to flank both sides of it, leaving me to traverse the long carpet on my own. I feel like my life is about to end here and now, but rather than run I’m voluntarily going toward it.

  I could run. I could beg those gathered around me to save me, to save Isla.

  But it would be worthless.

  Even if they saved me, the incubi and succubi could well be on their way. Even if they saved me, I’d still have to kill Rylan—or watch war break out between us and them.

  There’s only one way forward.

  One way out.

  The bridal march begins. I force myself to take one step, and then the next, as my heart races ever harder and faster. As I pass Sergei, I give him a glance, and he meets my eyes.

  I see strength there, and it gives me my own strength to carry forward. I need it, and I think he must know that. When I step past Conan, he gives me a hard look, and I know that all he can think about is Isla; I can smell it on him.

  Desperation, heartache, agony, resentment, worry; wondering where she is, if she’s all right, and if his babies growing within her are healthy.

  There’s so much fear and anxiety coming off of him. I feel awful about it. I think for a moment that it’s my fault that she’s locked up in her cell here … but then I remind myself that it isn’t at all. I’ve tried. I’ve given everything.

  This is Rylan’s fault. He’s the one who took her after I volunteered myself to him back in Nashville. I turn my eyes to Rylan and keep them there.

  The setting sun sears the heavens with rich oranges, fiery pinks, and smoldering reds, and directly opposite it, as the sun begins to go down, a fat, pink moon begins to rise. Normally, every shifter here would have been forced to transform into a wolf with the rising of the full moon; myself included. I can feel it; the change desperately trying to happen in me, and yet it doesn’t because I drank an herbal concoction that keeps the transformation at bay, but at great cost to the shifter.

  Two months in a row I’ve been forced to drink it. First, before the white flag meeting. Now, for my wedding.

  The wedding alone would be enough reason to cause the sickening in my stomach. But two months of my body unable to transform has left my blood pounding in my temples. It’s as if there’s a creature within me desperate to get out, but unable to.

  I feel my restlessness spread throughout the crowd … as it dawns on me.

  This is it.

  The reason the demons planned to attack today. They knew Rylan would expect his guests to take the concoction. Now, here, on the day they would normally be most powerful—these shifters are laid low.

  Vulnerable.

  By choice.

  That’s why the demons are choosing to attack this place on full moon when it’s loaded with hundreds of shifters; they’re all going to be weakened by the drink they each had to consume when they came into the compound. Of course, the servants would have been forced to make the concoction for all the guests and serve it to them as they entered. The servants knew it was coming. They knew this was their moment to attack.

  I wish my handmaidens had confided this in me. It takes everything in me not to feel betrayed. I have to remind myself not to hate them for it, to remember that their loyalty must lie in their own freedom, their own convictions, their own kind.

  My heart thuds horribly in my chest as I reach Rylan and the altar. He’s staring at me, and I can feel a burning deep inside me for him. My body wants him more than it ever has, and he’s just as desirous of me, if not more. It’s so strong on him that I can smell it. I can taste it in the air between us.

  It’s the moon. It has
to be. It’s this stupid fated mate situation and the full moon, driving us to the edge of our composure with an aching need to connect.

  The orchestra silences, and a holy man speaks out to the crowd. Almost none of his words find my ears. I make my responses as needed, and then Rylan takes my hands. His touch is electric, and it only makes me want to feel more of it; his fingers on my bare skin; everywhere. In the back of my mind, I can hear myself cussing him out, but those thoughts are drowned out by the rush of hot blood through every one of my veins, and the volcanic need that seems to grow without limits in me for him.

  This moment should never have been with him.

  It should have been with them. With Roman. With Teague. With Elon.

  For one moment in the middle of the ceremony, I allow myself to close my eyes and imagine I’m back in Nashville—with them. Not with Rylan. Not in this sweltering heat with the eyes of shifters watching me sacrifice my freedom for those that I love.

  But I can’t live in my fantasy long. Not when I feel the cold slip of metal on my finger, and I have to open my eyes and do the same, even if I wish with everything in me that I wasn’t.

  Mine is huge; an awful, gaudy, heavy diamond that no one even in the last row of chairs could possibly miss. I know as I see it that it isn’t about presenting me with an expensive gift. It’s about ownership and how very much he owns me.

  It’s a signal to others of my worth to him as a possession. I am off limits, and he seriously means it. It’s also an insecure show of his inexhaustible wealth, which is something he is always ready to lay on thickly to anyone who happens to come into contact with him. He has to be the most powerful, the wealthiest, the most important, the most respected, the most feared, the most revered, and he has to have all the control. Always.

  It’s disgusting.

  Rylan’s gaze on mine is intense as he brings me to him and kisses me, and as our lips touch, I cannot breathe. All I want is more of him, all of him, over and over again. I’m once again shocked at my innate desire for him. How can that be? How can I betray myself like that?

  I focus my thoughts on the crimson flower sitting in my quarters. I cannot let myself get lost in this overpowering lust. I must concentrate. I only have one flower, one cup, one chance at this, and I cannot fail.

  The crowd applauds and some cheers rise up when we are pronounced man and wife. I search the perimeter of the crowd desperate for any clue as to what will happen. It’s a huge relief to see that the servants are still in place, watching us, though several of them are now missing. If they were all gone, I would know the explosion was about to happen. My heart races even faster. I have no idea how much time I have to kill Rylan before a battle starts. If I can do it in time, I can stop the battle and save so many lives; lives that are worth a hell of a lot more than his.

  Rylan pulls me close and kisses me again, this time hard and deep, and I can feel that he is desperate to have me in his bed. He leaves me aching for him, thought I do my best to push it away again.

  “Soon … very soon,” he murmurs in my ear, leaving a heated kiss there, and I want to hate it, but it only burns me even more, and I can’t stop the soft moan that escapes me. He hears it, and grins wide. “You will know passion as you never have. That I promise you.”

  We join our guests, and I spend a good deal of time meeting new people while Rylan shows me off, as the full, glowing moon rises slowly higher and the daylight fades. Strings of lights come to life within the compound, and on the dais where the alter was, a band greets the party and begins to play. Everyone is immersed in the party; laughing, talking, dancing, and before Conan and the rest of the Nashville pack can get to me, Rylan pulls me aside.

  He stares hard at me. “I can wait no longer. Go and ready yourself and meet me in my quarters. I must have you now. Our night cannot be further delayed. We’re running out of time.”

  Before I can ask him what he’s talking about, he looks to Sergei, who is nearby, as always.

  “Escort her to her chambers, and then directly to mine. She is to speak with no one along the way. Make it fast.”

  Sergei inclines his head and walks with me back to my quarters. Mara and Elise join us on the way. While Sergei waits outside, they dress me in a silken negligee gown and robe.

  Under any other circumstances, I’d be consumed by fear. Regret. Disappointment.

  But all I feel now is resolve.

  Neither Mara nor Elise will look at me, speak to me, but they don’t have to. The fact that the demons haven’t attacked yet is testament enough. All I need is a little more time.

  They’ve bought me some. Now I just need a little more.

  With carefully gloved hands, I take the crimson flower and squeeze its nectar into a small glass vial, corking it firmly. My fingers tremble as I tuck the vial into a secret pocket in the brassiere of my negligee. I go to the door, my body quivering with fear, but more determined than I have ever been. Sergei does not look at me, but simply walks me to Rylan’s quarters.

  I share one, lingering moment with Mara and Elise, our shared hope flickering between us—for however brief a second.

  When we arrive at the door, Sergei finally turns to face me.

  “I wish you every good thing, my lady. I am ever your devoted servant.” He makes a point of looking me in the eye, and when I step into the door, he closes it behind me. I walk through to the quarters to Rylan’s bedroom and find that it too has been decorated as lavishly as the wedding. There are candles glowing everywhere, and the silken sheets are turned down.

  Prepared by careful hands. Somehow, this is the sight that makes my heart beat so fast I can barely hear my own thoughts.

  Rylan steps from the bathroom and stares hungrily at me; his eyes moving slowly over every curve and line, and as they do, it makes me wish it was his hands, rather than his eyes. I’m astounded at myself, but I cannot deny it. The chemistry between us is too powerful. It’s a magnetic pull that I have no control over at all.

  My body wants him more than I could ever have imagined, while my mind is reeling in the back of my head, making me focus on what really needs to happen here tonight.

  With no more than a few steps he comes to me, pulling me into his arms. His lips find mine and in seconds part them, his tongue sweeping in a tango with my own as we kiss ravenously. My breath grows short and I have to struggle not to give in to the breathtaking way he’s consuming me. I want to let him, I want to feel everything he’s doing, but I must remain on task.

  “Wait …” I pant, breathlessly. He pauses in the trail of kisses he has left down my neck toward the swell of my breasts.

  “What? What is it?” he mumbles, sounding incoherent with desire.

  “I … I’m nervous. I thought we could have some champagne to … celebrate, and … ease the tension.” My heart is banging against the wall of my chest so loudly that I know he can’t possibly miss it.

  A slow smile spreads over his face. “Whatever you wish.”

  He calls out, and an incubus appears, opening the doors from the next room.

  “Bring champagne to us.”

  Rylan’s hands drift over my form as he discovers me, teasing us both as we wait. It’s not even two minutes before the incubus returns with a tray holding two flutes and an ice bucket with an opened bottle of champagne.

  How am I going to do this? Fear and uncertainty whip through me, and I feel suddenly lost. It’s the finish line. All I have to do is cross it. All I have to do is empty this hidden vial of poison into his glass and toast him. I’m probably seconds from being free of him. I swallow hard. The ground feels like it might open up and swallow me. I have got to get it together. Rylan isn’t going to wait.

  I give him a smile, though there’s utter chaos wreaking havoc inside me.

  “Wait for me in the bed, and I will come to you,” I tell him. He grins and strides over to it, sprawling out on it in anticipation, his silken robe open to reveal all of his stunning physique to me. I’ve never thought about
how he looks before. He is extraordinarily fit, and very well endowed, just like my precious boys.

  I turn my back to him and face the ice bucket, and in my mind’s eye, I see Isla, chained up in some cell here. I see Kera sliced to ribbons with his claws. I see Bastian falling to his death as Rylan holds the man’s heart in his hand. I see the punishing girl–the servant he hurt so badly when I arrived that she’s still not able to serve her purpose in taking my punishments from him. I see a field full of the bodies of murdered innocents who were coming in faith and trust to sign a peace treaty that I offered them. I see Roman, Elon, and Teague.

  I grit my teeth and delicately slip the vial from its pocket. I uncork it and pour its contents into one of the glasses as I reach for the champagne and then add the bubbly to the vessels as well. I slip the empty vial beneath the edge of the tray so he won’t see it, and pick up the glasses, praying that he won’t smell my anxiety or hear the crazy pounding of my heart.

  Turning to him, I walk to the bed. I have never been more afraid in my life. Everything about who I am is seconds from changing. I hand the poisoned champagne to him, my heart practically beating out of my chest, and I lift my glass.

  “To a long and happy marriage.” I state as cool as an autumn night.

  He grins and takes the cup, lifting it in a toast. I tip mine back and sip. He’s watching me. I drink the whole thing, and I can barely breathe. I am rigid with terror and yet burning with desire for him. He’s still holding his glass.

  “Aren’t … aren’t you going to drink yours?” I ask with as steady a voice as I can manage.

  He regards me in silence for a long minute. A long, eternal minute.

  “I think I’ll wait,” he tells me evenly, setting his glass down on the table at his side of the bed. “I want to experience every second of this night with you without having my senses dulled by drink. Come to me now, I have waited long enough, and I can wait no more.”

  Rylan takes my empty glass from my hand and sets it near his, and then he draws me into his bed, kissing me deeply as his hands begin to move over my body. Every single thing he is doing to me is breathtaking, both giving me overwhelming pleasure while driving a need for him through me that is stronger than gravity.

 

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