Chapter 16 Chapter 16
Anya’s POV
I glared at him, my fury the only thing holding my terror at bay.
His gaze was cold, completely ignoring my anger. His eyes landed on the heavy coat still draped around my shoulders. His coat. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"Come with me," he commanded.
He didn't wait for a reply. His hand shot out, clamping around my upper arm, and he pulled. He didn't just lead me; he all but dragged me back to his chamber, his long, purposeful strides forcing me into a half-jog to keep up.
He didn't release me until we were inside. He strode to the door and barked, "Miguel!"
His Beta appeared almost instantly. Kai didn't waste a moment. "Tell Madam Divina to have all of Anya's things transferred to my bedroom. Immediately." He paused, his gaze sweeping over my torn, filthy dress under his coat. "And send for the tailor. She will need an entire new wardrobe."
"Yes, Alpha." Miguel glanced at me, his eyes wide with a confusion so profound it was almost funny, but he was smart enough not to dare ask a single question. He just bowed and vanished.
The brute Alpha turned back to me. He stalked forward slowly, closing the distance until I was forced to look up at him. "From now on," he said, his voice dropping to that low, intimate rumble I was beginning to dread, "when we are alone... you will use my name."
"I'm not your woman," I spat, my voice shaking.
A cold, humorless smile touched his lips. He stopped just inches away, looking down at me. "No," he agreed softly. "But you're going to be... for a month. Maybe."
He reached out, his finger tracing the line of my collarbone just above the coat's edge. I flinched, but he ignored it.
"I'm going to shower you with gifts, little human. Silks, jewels, anything you desire." His eyes turned impossibly dark. "So that when you do die... you'll die with no regrets. You'll have finally experienced what it's like to be treated as a woman, as a queen... even if it's only for a little while. Yes?"
Did he really think this was some kind of generous offer?
He thought he could dress me up and use me as a sacrifice, and I would just... enjoy it? My resolve hardened into a cold, sharp point.
I will find a way out of this. I escaped one monster. I will find a way to escape another.
He pushed open another door, revealing a cavernous bathroom carved from dark marble. Steam was already rising from a pool-sized sunken tub.
I didn't have a choice. I just stood there, frozen, my body rigid with dread.
"I won't have you in my bed filthy," he stated, his voice a low growl. "You need to clean yourself." He paused, a cruel, lazy smirk touching his lips. "Or... would you prefer I clean you?"
His eyes dropped, raking over my body in a slow, insulting appraisal, as if he could see right through his coat and my torn dress. He was just like Zakarius—just another predator.
I stiffened, turned my back on him, and walked past him into the steam-filled room. When I heard the heavy thud of the door closing, a tiny, shaky sigh of relief escaped me.
Privacy. Thank the gods.
Believing I was finally alone, I let his heavy coat slide from my shoulders. I reached back to untie the ruined laces of my dress, letting the torn, filthy fabric pool at my feet, leaving me completely exposed.
And then... I felt it.
A warm puff of air, ghosting over the skin of my bare shoulder.
His breath.
I shrieked and spun around, instinctively crossing my arms over my chest to cover myself. He hadn't left. He was right there, leaning against the closed door, his arms crossed, watching me.
"What are you doing?!" I screamed, my voice cracking with humiliation.
His expression was utterly unbothered, almost amused. "What am I doing? You're the one who just stripped naked in front of me."
"I thought you left!" I cried, my face burning with a shame so hot it felt like a fever.
But his amusement faded. His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating. His gaze dropped from my face, sweeping slowly over my collarbones, my breasts, my waist. The look wasn't just appreciative; it was raw and possessive.
"Your scent..." he murmured, his voice going rough.
"I know! I'm dirty, I need to wash—"
"No," he interrupted, his voice thick as molasses. "It's addicting."
He pushed off the door and took a deliberate step toward me. I stumbled back, my bare legs hitting the cool marble edge of the tub.
"I swear to god, if you touch me," I threatened, my voice shaking but desperate, "I will scream."
He stopped, his gaze fixed on my mouth.
"How about we take a bath together?" he proposed, "I won't even touch you." He paused, his eyes gleaming with a dark promise. "...Much."