Married To Him
Serafine POV
No one says a word as they guide me into the grand hall of the pack house. I know this is where the ceremony will happen, although calling it a ceremony is an insult to the word. There’s no decorations here, no celebrations, only a handful of uninterested witnesses stand at the front with my father and another man that I’ve never seen before.
Xander Voss. I know it’s him, he’s the only stranger here. It’s funny, I should have known he would be handsome.
That’s a cruel reality. The gods and goddesses seem to bless their monsters with striking beauty, almost like they are saying the world should admire them as they burn down your pack.
Xander is tall, towering over everyone else in the room. His body is clearly mostly muscle, I can see the shape beneath his clothing. When he moves, it’s like he’s radiating power. He’s wearing all black, like he’s wanting to blend into the shadows. A dark leather coat is stretched over his shoulder, and it flows down to his boots. When he shifts on his feet, it moves slightly. I’ve never seen a rogue, I’ve only heard stories, and the way Xander dresses is nothing like those in this pack.
It’s dark, leather, and hidden.
My eyes go to his face. His features are sharp, and he has a strong jawline with high cheekbones. His lips, even pressed together hard, show that they are full and not flat. His eyes are gold, bright and piercing in a way I’ve never seen before unless someone shifts into their wolf. He looks like a predator who is hunting its prey.
When I get closer, he doesn’t react. There’s no smile toward me or softening of his gaze. That alone tells me everything I need to know. He doesn’t care about me or who I am. I do know, though, that he’s everything the stories said he was.
He’s a beast, a killer, and a nightmare wrapped into an attractive shell that makes you think he’s safe when really he’s not. He’s just biding his time before tearing you apart, piece by piece.
He steps closer, and my body tenses instantly. For a second, I think he might say something to me. He doesn’t. He just looks at me. His expression is unreadable, but the way his gaze moves over my body is like he’s evaluating exactly what he has bought. I force myself not to flinch or look away.
If I do, I’ll be seen as weak in his eyes, and if I’m supposed to be his wife going forward, I shouldn’t cower at him looking at
- me.
What I don’t do is speak. I’ve no idea about his rules around that yet.
The priest starts the ritual, his voice is dull and low. He’s acting like he’s reading a lunch menu, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible. There’s not a single ounce of joy, no acknowledgment that this is a wedding binding us together. Then again, this isn’t a bond formed out of love or from us being mates. Hell, it’s not even one out of alliance. It’s a transaction, nothing more.
I do what I’m supposed to when I’m told and say what I am required to as well. There’s no hesitation when I do it either. The moment the final words are spoken, the deal is sealed instantly.
I’m not sure what I had expected, but Xander doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t claim me in front of the others. There’s no kiss like the ritual says he should. Instead, he turns and hands my father money. Then he glances at me briefly before turning and striding toward the doors without even a glance back to check if I’m following him.
His order is clear. I’ve to follow, not question it, not ask anything, just simply follow him. I look toward where my father is, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. In a way, I respect that. Why waste your energy looking at something that no longer exists? He sold me off, and in his world, that means I don’t exist. He doesn’t need to concern himself with me anymore. With no other choice, I turn and begin to make my way outside, toward my husband, into the unknown.
Getting outside, the air is cold. It easily cuts through the thin fabric of my dress. There’s a smell of damp earth and burning wood lingering. Stopping before the steps, I see the maid standing a few feet away. She holds out a small bag, and I know those are the new clothes I was given to keep up appearances.
“Your things,” she says quietly. There’s no kindness or pity in her voice, just duty. I take the bag without saying a word far too light. There’s nothing much in it, then again, I had nothing. These are the things he deemed necessary. Swallowing hard, I turn and look at the pack once more. No one is watching me leave, no one is coming to say goodbye, and why should they? They don’t care about me. The guards continue their patrols, the omegas are rushing to finish whatever task they started, life here is moving on like I never existed. Then again, according to people here, I shouldn’t exist. It shouldn’t sting that no one is saying goodbye or watching me leave, but it does. Twenty–Three years of me living here, and no one is saying goodbye.
The sound of a deep rumbling engine draws my attention forward, and my eyes lock on the car that parks just by the steps. It’s expensive and too out of place for here. It’s polished and shines, and isn’t what a rogue would usually have. So how does he?
Marned To Him
Now I can’t help but wonder where he is taking me. Zander doesn’t have a pack, he doesn’t have land, or a kingdom to rule over. So why does he have a car that screams wealth? Who exactly is this man that f’ve been sold to?
Xander walks toward the vehicle without a second thought or glance at anything I know that whatever de 1 had here is over, there’s no turning back. Clutching my bag tighter, 1 force my feet to move forward and follow him into the car
