Chapter 17 Chapter 17
Anya’s POV
I let out a soft, almost inaudible scoff.
His expression shifted instantly. The predatory hunger in his eyes vanished, replaced by a flash of genuine... surprise. He clearly hadn't expected me to mock him.
Our eyes met. His eyes were dark and questioning. Mine were filled with a reckless, defiant terror.
Fine. He wanted to see me? He wanted to call my bluff?
Instead of cowering, I held his gaze and slowly let my arms fall from my chest, leaving myself completely exposed to him.
The effect was immediate. He flinched, his gaze snapping away from my body as if he'd been burned. A dark, angry flush crept up his neck. He actually looked away, seemingly more shocked by my brazenness than by my nakedness.
"Oh?" I said, my voice trembling only slightly, laced with a sarcasm I hadn't known I possessed. "I... I thought you wanted to take a bath with me, Alpha...."
With all the dignity I could muster, I turned my back on him and stepped down into the steaming water, sinking into the blessed, opaque heat until it covered me to my shoulders.
When I finally looked back at him, his momentary shock was gone. It had been replaced by that infuriating, knowing smirk. He was back in control.
"I still might," he rumbled, and his hands went to the laces of his own tunic.
But before he could pull it over his head, a frantic, heavy pounding came from the chamber door.
"Alpha Kai!" Miguel's voice was muffled but urgent. "Alpha Zakarius is at the tavern! He's... ah... he's already drunk, sir. And demanding to see the...pretty servant."
Kai squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw tightening. He let out a low, frustrated growl. "Right."
He didn't look at Miguel. His hot, frustrated gaze was still locked on me, full of a dark promise that this was far from over. I stared back, my heart whipping, refusing to be the first to look away.
He finally spun around and yanked the door open. He looked over his shoulder, his final command a non-negotiable order.
"When you're finished, find me at the tavern. Miguel will escort you."
He didn't wait for my answer. He was just gone, leaving me alone in the steam-filled room, my entire body shaking from the encounter.
When I stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, wrapped in a linen robe, I stopped in my tracks.
Beta Miguel was gone, but he'd left an elderly Omega woman in his place. She was small, with kind, nervous eyes, and she was standing next to a wooden rack overflowing with beautiful, expensive-looking gowns.
"Miss Anya?" she curtsied, her head bowed. "I am the pack's tailor. Alpha Kai... he commanded an entire wardrobe for you. He was very specific."
"I... I just need one," I stammered, overwhelmed. "Just for the tavern."
"Of course, Miss," she said, gesturing to the rack. "Whatever you'd like. The Alpha insisted on... finer materials. Silks, velvets..."
I scanned the dresses, my heart sinking. They were all beautiful, but they were also clearly designed for a woman of high status—and confidence. They were low-cut, figure-hugging, and screamed for attention. I finally found one in the back, a pale pink gown that seemed to have the highest neckline of the bunch.
"This one, please," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
"A lovely choice, Miss," she said, helping me into it.
The moment the silk settled over my skin, I knew I'd made a mistake. The high neckline was a ilusion. The dress was masterfully cut to lift and present, and I saw, to my horror, that the swell of my breasts was puffing over the delicate edge of the fabric.
"Oh, no," I gasped, my cheeks burning as I tried to pull the fabric up. It was useless. "Is this... is this right? Don't you have a shawl? Or a... a scarf?"
The little tailor looked terrified. "My apologies, Miss," she whispered, wringing her hands. "The Alpha... he... he prefers this style. He said... he wanted your beauty to be... 'unencumbered.' I... I cannot alter his vision."
Of course. This wasn't a gift; it was a costume. He was dressing me up for his own amusement.
"Damn it," I muttered. "It's fine. Thank you."
I took a deep breath, my face crimson, and opened the chamber door.
Beta Miguel was standing guard outside, his back rigid. The moment the door opened, he turned.
"Miss Anya, are you ready—"
He stopped dead. His eyes, against his will, dropped for a fraction of a second to my chest before he violently snapped his gaze to a spot on the wall far above my head. A dark red flush crept up his neck.
I instinctively crossed my arms, which only seemed to make the dress strain more. "Beta Miguel?" I said, my voice small.
"Miss," he said, his voice strained, his eyes still fixed on the wall. "We... we must go. The Alpha is waiting."
He started walking, and I hurried to keep up, his awkwardness making me feel even more naked.
"Beta?" I tried again. "Is something wrong?"
He stopped so abruptly I almost ran into him. He looked pained, his gaze locked firmly on my face. It was clear he was fighting a war with himself over where to look.
"No, Miss," he said, his voice tight. "My apologies. It is... just... the Alpha's orders were very clear. That you are... to be treated with... respect. As his personal... guest."
He couldn't even say servant anymore.
"I see," I whispered, the humiliation burning in my chest. He couldn't respect me when I was dressed like a high-dollar courtesan.
"The tavern is loud," he said, reverting to his stiff, military tone. "Stay by my side. Do not, under any circumstances, speak to anyone. Your only focus is the Alpha. Understood?"
"Yes, Beta."
The tavern was roaring with noise before we even entered—a chaotic wall of sound made of booming laughter, drunken shouts, and the clanging of tankards.
But the moment Beta Miguel pushed the heavy door open and I stepped inside, it all stopped. Instantly.