Chapter 3 THE MARRIAGE.
Venessa’s POV.
The carriage ride to the Lycan Citadel took four hours. For every one of those two hundred and forty minutes, I sat as stiff as a corpse. I had to. If I moved too much, the pins holding Elara’s dress to my smaller frame would prick me. If I breathed too deeply, the corset would snap.
I was cold too.
I looked at the fur blanket that was folded neatly on the seat. It smelled of lavender and clean linen.
I didn’t dare touch the fur blanket. The extravagance felt like a mockery. This was the transport for a beloved, honored bride, not a hostage.
I looked out the window at the passing trees, feeling a ache in my chest.
How did I get here?
Twenty-four hours ago, I was stripping thorns off roses. Now, I was a sacrificial lamb being delivered to a lycans den.
I wasn't Venessa Milan, the girl who liked old books and quiet corners. I was "The Substitute." A human- apology for my sister’s disappearance.
The carriage door opened. I didn't wait for a hand. I grabbed my heavy skirts and stepped out.
The air here was different. It didn't smell like the sweet, rotting lilies of my home. It smelled of snow, and heavy incense.
"Move," a voice hissed.
An older man stood there. He was tall, dressed in charcoal grey, with eyes that held no warmth.
Lord Silas. One of the Lycan Elders. He was the only one that was informed about my sister’s disappearance. The only person my father had taken comfort from.
He probably came up with this ridiculous idea.
His eyes were on me, and I felt smaller than I ever had in my life.
"You look nothing like her," he said, his voice dripping with disappointment. "Your sister would have fit better”
The word felt like a slap. Better. Of course she was but that didn’t mean anything right now.
"I'm the one who is standing here right now," I snapped, I couldn’t just hold back and let him make me feel so little.
Silas stepped into my personal space. He was so close that I could smell the stale tobacco on his breath. "Listen to me, girl. You are a placeholder. A warm body to fill a bed and seal a treaty. If you fail to play the part of a perfect bride, your father’s pack will burn before the sun sets. Keep your head down. Keep your mouth shut. And try not to look so… pathetic."
He turned on his heel, leaving me trembling in the courtyard.
Pathetic.
That was the theme of my life, wasn't it?
I was the sister who wasn't pretty enough to be the face of the pack. I was the mate who wasn't strong enough to be accepted. Now, I was the bride who wasn't even the first choice.
The guards walked me toward the Great Hall.
The walk felt like a trip to the gallows. Every Lycan we passed stopped to stare. Their eyes tracked me, judging the way the dress didn't quite fit, the way my veil shook with every breath.
The double doors swung open.
The Hall was massive. Thousands of candles flickered in the draft.
At the end of the long, black carpet stood the King.
I couldn't see his face yet. I only saw his silhouette—broad shoulders, a towering height, and an aura of power that felt like a physical pressure on my lungs.
My father stood to the side. He didn't look at me with love or pride. That would have made this whole arrangement slightly better but only looked at me with relief. Like my pain was nothing and he was just glad I could be a substitute bride for my sister.
He had successfully traded one daughter for his own safety.
I felt sick.
I walked. One step. Two. The silence was so heavy that I could hear my heart pounding.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
When I finally reached the altar, I forced myself to look up.
My heart didn't just stop. It felt like it was ripped out of my chest and shoved back in upside down.
The air left my lungs and my vision blurred for a second before snapping into focus.
He had dark hair, and skin was bronze, glowing in the candlelight. The King was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.
But it wasn't his beauty that broke me.
It was the pull.
It was a thousand times stronger than what I had felt with the alpha’s son.
Mate.
He was my second chance mate.
The gods hadn't just given me a mate; they had tied me to the most powerful Lycan in existence.
I waited. I waited for him to gasp. I waited for his eyes to widen with the same shock that was currently paralyzing me. I waited for him to reach out and claim me.
But the King just stared.
His eyes were a piercing, icy blue. Cold. Hard. Dead.
He looked at me, and there was absolutely nothing. No spark. No recognition. No warmth.
It was like looking into a frozen lake.
"We begin," the priest announced.
The ceremony was a blur of ancient words and heavy incense.
I felt like I was watching it from underwater. I was screaming inside. My mind was everywhere and no where.
Didn’t he feel the bond?
When it came time for the vows, he didn't even look at me. He spoke the words like he was reading a grocery list. His voice was a deep, rich baritone that would have made me melt, but the coldness behind it made me shiver.
"The kiss," the elder said.
The King finally turned to face me. He didn't take my hands. He didn't move my veil with tenderness. He reached out and gripped my jaw and leaned down.
When his lips touched mine, It was a taste of heaven and a promise of ruin. I couldn't help it—I let out a soft moan, my hands flying up to clutch his chest. I wanted to disappear into him.
He tasted like expensive bourbon and something sweet.
Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended.
He pulled away with abruptly that I stumbled.
He didn't look at me anymore. He simply looked past me and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a look of disgust on his face.
"The union is sealed," he said to the room.
He didn't offer me his arm. He didn't wait for me.
He simply turned around and walked out of the Hall through a side door, leaving me standing alone at the altar.
The whispers started instantly. They were like a thousand stinging bees.
"Did you see his face?"
"He didn't even want to touch her."
"The poor thing."
I stood there, my face burning, feeling more pathetic than I ever had in my life.
I was his mate. I was his soul’s other half. And he had just treated our union like a chore he couldn't wait to finish.
The reception was a nightmare of fake smiles and bitter wine.
My father cornered me near the buffet.
"Well done, Venessa," he whispered, his eyes darting around the room. "You kept your mouth shut. Now, make sure you keep him happy in the bedroom. We need an heir to solidify this. Don't mess this up like you messed up with Kaelen."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I just walked away.
A man blocked my path. He was tall, with a rugged, handsome face and a friendly smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He was dressed in the uniform of a high-ranking guard.
"Princess," he said, bowing slightly. "Or should I say, Queen?"
"Venessa is fine," I said, my voice sounding hollow.
"I’m Rick," he said, offering me a glass of wine. "I’m the King's Beta. And his best friend. You look… overwhelmed.”
"I'm fine."
"Are you?" He tilted his head. "The King is a difficult man. He has had a hard life and his grandma and sister doesn’t know of this arrangement so Don't take his coldness personally. But a word of advice? Watch who you trust in this palace. Not everyone is happy about this marriage."
Before I could ask him what he meant, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd of dancing Lycans.
By midnight, I was exhausted. A maid led me to the King’s chambers. I sat on the edge of the bed, still in that cursed dress, and waited.
I waited for hours. He didn't come.
I eventually fell into a fitful sleep, curled up on top of the covers.
I woke up to the sound of a glass clinking.
The room was dark, save for a sliver of moonlight.
The King was sitting in a chair by the window. He was still in his formal clothes, but his tie was undone. He had a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
He was staring at me. His eyes were glowing in the dark, two blue flames.
"You're awake," he said. His voice was a low.
"I am," I said, my heart starting to race. "Are you… are you coming to bed?"
A dark, mocking smile touched his lips. "No."
He didn't move. He didn't invite me over. He just watched me, and for the first time, I felt the true weight of the bond.
It was screaming at me to go to him, to touch him, to submit to him.
"I know," he said softly.
My breath hitched. "Know what?"
"I know we are mates, Venessa."
He stood up, his massive frame casting a shadow over the entire room.
He finished his drink in one gulp and set the glass down with a heavy thud.
"But don't think for a second that changes anything," he said. "You are here to fulfill a contract. Nothing more. Do not look for love in this room. You won't find it."
He walked out, slamming the door behind him.
I stayed awake until dawn. When the sun started to peak over the horizon and I heard the sound of carriages.
I spent the morning trying to find my way around the castle, but I kept ending up in dead ends. I felt like a rat in a maze.
Finally, the guard from the wedding—Rick found me and led me back to my room.
"You look lost, Queen," he said.
"I am lost," I whispered.
"Stay inside for a while. Let the dust settle."
He left me at my door. I walked into the room and saw my suitcases piled by the wardrobe. I needed to get out of this dress. I needed to feel like myself again.
I opened the first bag. On top of my folded jeans and sweaters sat a small, cream-colored envelope.
My name was written on the front in Elara’s perfect, loopy handwriting.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I tore it open, my fingers shaking.
Venessa,
I know you hate me right now. I know you think I ran away because I was scared of the King. But you’re wrong. I didn't run away from him. I ran away from the truth.
Dad didn't choose you because I was gone. He chose you because he knew what the Lycan King really is. He knew what happens to the women who enter that castle.
V, look at the King’s chest. Look at the mark. Then run. Run as fast as you can before the moon turns red.
I’m so sorry.
The paper fell from my hands.
A heavy footstep sounded behind me. I turned around, my heart in my throat.
The King was standing in the doorway. But he wasn't looking at me. His shirt was open, and his skin was pale.
Across his chest, a black mark was spreading like a poison, pulsing with a sickly, dark light.
"Get out," he rasped, his eyes turning a terrifying, clouded white.
He collapsed to his knees, his body convulsing as a low, inhuman groan tore from his throat.