Chapter 10 TEN
It happens during dinner service, as I'm pouring wine into Alpha Stone's glass. One moment I'm focused on keeping my hands steady, maintaining perfect form as Master Kane taught me. The next, Lady Victoria's voice cuts through the quiet.
"Clumsy little slave," she purrs, her foot withdrawing after deliberately bumping my elbow. Red wine splashes across the Alpha's white shirt, staining it like blood.
The room freezes. Even the air seems to still.
"I..." My voice catches as those silver eyes lock onto mine. "My Lord, I—"
"Silence." His voice is soft, deadly. "Everyone out. Except her."
Chairs scrape as the inner circle hurries to obey. Victoria's triumphant smirk is the last thing I see before the doors close, leaving me alone with him.
Alpha Stone rises slowly, his height making me feel impossibly small. Wine drips from his ruined shirt, and I can smell the aggression rolling off him in waves.
"Do you know what happens to slaves who make such mistakes, little wolf?"
I sink to my knees, assuming the position Master Kane drilled into me. "Yes, my Lord. They are punished."
"Look at me."
I raise my eyes, finding his face unreadable. But there's something in his scent – reluctance? Anticipation?
"Remove your robe."
My hands shake as I obey, letting the silk pool around my knees. The cool air raises goosebumps on my exposed skin, but it's his heated gaze that makes me shiver.
"Present yourself over my desk."
I walk on trembling legs to his massive desk, bending forward until my chest meets the cold wood. The position leaves me vulnerable, exposed. My wolf whines, not in fear but in... anticipation?
His footsteps circle me slowly. "I should make an example of you. Let the others see what happens when my property disappoints me." His hand trails down my spine, surprisingly gentle. "But that's not what happened, is it?"
I stay silent, remembering Master Kane's lessons. Never speak unless directly questioned.
"Answer me, little wolf. Did you spill that wine through clumsiness?"
"No, my Lord." The truth slips out before I can stop it.
"No," he agrees. His hand continues its maddening path along my skin. "Victoria orchestrated your mistake. Yet you didn't defend yourself. Didn't accuse her. Why?"
"It's not my place, my Lord."
His hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back. "Everything in this pack is my concern. Including lies and manipulations against what belongs to me."
The possession in his voice makes my heat stir dangerously. I bite my lip, fighting for control.
"Still," he continues, "discipline must be maintained. Ten strikes. Count them."
The first blow of his hand against my flesh startles a gasp from me. It's not as hard as I expected – more about dominance than pain.
"One, my Lord," I manage.
By five, my skin burns pleasantly. By eight, I'm fighting not to push back into his touch. The heat building inside me makes every strike feel like a caress.
"Nine," I breathe, my voice embarrassingly husky.
The final strike is softer than the rest, almost a caress. "Ten, my Lord."
He doesn't step back. Instead, his hand rests on my heated skin, and I hear him inhale deeply. Testing my scent. Checking for fear or distress.
He'll find neither. Only arousal I can't quite hide.
"Interesting," he murmurs. "Most wolves would be crying by now. Begging for mercy. But you..." His fingers trace the marks he left. "You enjoyed that."
I close my eyes in shame. "My Lord, I—"
"Shh." His other hand strokes my hair, gentling me like a startled animal. "Your body betrays you, little wolf. Just like your lies do." He leans down, his breath hot against my ear. "I can smell your arousal. Your need. What other secrets are you hiding behind those walls of yours?"
Terror and desire war inside me. "Please..."
"Please what?" His voice roughens. "Please stop? Please continue? What do you beg for, my little liar?"
The endearment breaks something in me. I push up slightly, pressing into his touch. His growl of approval makes my wolf howl.
Then, abruptly, he steps back. "Get dressed."
The command feels like ice water. I straighten shakily, pulling my robe back on with trembling fingers.
"You'll serve me breakfast tomorrow. Alone." His eyes burn into mine. "Perhaps then you'll be ready to tell me the truth."
I flee the room on unsteady legs, his dark chuckle following me. Only when I reach my quarters do I realize – he punished me for Victoria's crime, yet somehow made it feel like a reward.
And my wolf? She's already eager for morning.
What kind of slave craves her master's discipline?
What kind of wolf begs for her captor's touch?
But I know the answer, even as I deny it. Because with every passing hour, it becomes harder to remember that I'm supposed to fear the Beast.
Especially when my wolf keeps whispering that she'd rather be devoured by him.