He Bled My Wolf For Her, I Bought The Rogue King

The jagged obsidian blade ground against my sternum.

"Hold her down," Caleb, my fiancé, commanded the high priest.

Through the floorboards, Sienna's giggle scraped against my ears.

"When the dagger goes in, she won't even fight back," Caleb promised my best friend, his ice-cold skin pressing against hers.

I slipped the heavy iron key to the dungeon's lowest level out of his hidden wall safe.

"Cut the left one first," the chained rogue Lycan ordered.

Skin met skin, blood mixed with blood, and the monster meant to butcher me claimed me instead.

*****

The jagged obsidian blade ground against my sternum, snapping the bone in half.

"Hold her down!" a voice roared.

My eyes flew open.

I thrashed against the mattress, my fingers digging into the cotton sheets until the fabric tore. Sharp pain flared at the tips of my fingers. Bright red beads welled around my cuticles, smearing across the white linen.

My heart.

I clawed at the collar of my nightgown, ripping the silk buttons free. My palms slammed flat against my chest, searching for the gaping, empty cavity where the high priest had just pulled my beating heart from my ribs.

Smooth skin met my frantic touch.

The rhythmic thud against my ribs felt like a drum. Alive. Whole.

I gasped for air, but my lungs burned, choked by the phantom agony of the blade twisting through my flesh. I rolled off the bed, my knees hitting the floor hard. I dragged my gaze up to the digital clock on the nightstand.

October twelfth.

Five days.

I stared at the glowing red numbers. Five days before the Blood Moon sacrifice.

I wasn't dead on the altar. I was back in my bedroom.

A sudden giggle drifted through the floorboards, pulling me from the shock.

"Stop it, Caleb. She's right upstairs."

Sienna. My best friend. The woman who had picked out my white ceremonial dress.

"Let her sleep," Caleb murmured, his deep voice carrying through the air vents. "The tea I gave her at dinner was laced with wolfsbane. She'll be out cold until morning."

"You're too careful," Sienna laughed. The sound was sharp, grating against my ears.

"I have to be," Caleb replied. His heavy footsteps paced the kitchen below. "Elara's bloodline is pure. If her instincts kick in before the Blood Moon, she could ruin everything."

"She's so naive. She actually thinks the altar ceremony is a bonding ritual for the two of you."

"Let her believe it." A glass clinked against the granite counter. "It keeps her compliant. When the dagger goes in, she won't even fight back."

My stomach violently cramped. I doubled over, pressing my forehead against the cold floorboards. A thick, metallic taste of rust coated the back of my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing down the nausea. I remembered the dagger. I remembered Caleb's cold eyes as he held my shoulders down, watching the high priest carve into my chest.

"She trusts me completely," Caleb said, his tone dripping with arrogance. "I told her the high priest needs her to isolate herself for purity. She hasn't spoken to her father in weeks."

"Good," Sienna replied. "If the old Alpha knew what we were really doing, he'd slaughter us both."

"He's too weak to stop me now. Once I absorb Elara's wolf, I'll challenge him for the pack. I'll tear his throat out in front of the entire council."

"You're so ruthless, Caleb." Sienna's giggle returned, lower this time. "I love it."

"I'm just taking what belongs to me."

The sound of a chair scraping against the kitchen tiles echoed up the stairs.

"Does it hurt?" Sienna asked, her voice shifting to morbid curiosity. "Having your heart removed while you're still breathing?"

"I don't know," Caleb replied smoothly. "But we'll find out on Friday."

"Are you sure the high priest won't suspect anything?" Sienna whispered. "If he finds out you altered the sacrificial runes to transfer her wolf's power to you..."

"He won't. By the time the moon reaches its peak, Elara will be nothing but an empty vessel. And I will be the strongest Alpha this pack has ever seen."

"And me?" Sienna teased.

"You'll be my Luna. Just five more days, beautiful."

A soft moan followed, accompanied by the rustle of clothing.

I didn't scream. I didn't run down the stairs to confront the man I was supposed to marry. Screaming wouldn't save me. Confrontation would only end with me locked in a cell until the Blood Moon. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, my jaw tightening into a hard line.

I pushed off the floor. My bare feet hit the hardwood, making no sound. I crossed the bedroom, bypassing the door entirely, and stopped in front of the tall oak bookshelf in the corner.

I reached behind the third shelf, pressing my thumb against a hidden groove in the wood.

A soft click broke the silence.

The wooden panel popped open, revealing a small steel keypad.

My fingers hovered over the buttons.

Four. Nine. Two. Seven.

The metal drawer slid outward on oiled tracks.

Inside lay a single, heavy black iron key.

It belonged to the lowest level of the packhouse dungeon. The forbidden sector. The cell holding the rogue Lycan they had captured three years ago. The monster chained in the dark.

Caleb's father had forbidden anyone from going down there. He said the beast was feral, a creature of pure slaughter that couldn't be reasoned with. The guards threw raw meat into the pit and ran before the chains could snap.

But a feral beast was exactly what I needed.

My enemies planned to butcher me on an altar. I needed a butcher of my own.

I grabbed the cold iron key, its jagged teeth biting into my palm.

Footsteps creaked on the stairs.

"I'll take this up to her," Caleb's voice drifted closer. "Hand me the sleeping powder. I need to prepare her milk."

"Make sure she drinks every drop," Sienna called out from the kitchen.

The footsteps stopped right outside my bedroom door.

I shoved the heavy iron key deep into the pocket of my silk pajama pants.

The brass doorknob turned.

The heavy oak door swung inward, revealing Caleb standing in the threshold. He wore a perfectly tailored gray shirt, the top three buttons undone, exposing the faint red scratch marks Sienna had just left on his collarbone. In his hands, he held a steaming glass mug of white milk.

"Elara?" he said, his lips pulling into a gentle, loving smile. "You're out of bed."

"I couldn't sleep." I kept my voice flat, masking the violent urge to rip his throat out. I crossed my arms, hiding my trembling hands.

"You should be resting." He stepped into the room, holding the glass out toward me. "The ritual preparations are draining your energy. I brought you something to help you relax."

"Milk?" I asked, staring at the white liquid.

"Warm milk with honey. Just the way you like it." His smile widened, reaching his eyes. The perfect, caring fiancé. "Drink it, Elara. You need to save your strength for the ceremony."

"I'm not thirsty, Caleb."

"Don't be stubborn." He took another step forward, his tone taking on a patronizing edge. "It's for your own good. Come here and take the glass."

"I said I don't want it."

"Elara, drink the milk." His voice dropped, the loving fiancé act slipping for a fraction of a second to reveal the commanding Alpha underneath.

"Leave it on the nightstand," I countered, holding my ground. "I'll drink it later."

Caleb sighed, shaking his head. "You always make things so difficult. You need to learn to just listen to me."

He walked toward the bed, reaching out to set the mug on the wooden table.

Then, he stopped.

His warm smile faltered, the corners of his mouth twitching downward. His gaze shifted away from my face, drifting past my shoulder to the far corner of the room.

The glass mug in his hand tilted slightly, a single drop of white milk spilling over the rim and splattering onto the floorboards.

His eyes locked onto the open, unclosed steel drawer protruding from the bookshelf.