Page 146 of Chained By the Alpha
“Arrangements that involve locking me in, apparently,” I snap, folding my arms over my chest, trying to shield myself from the reality of my situation—and from him.
“Precautionary measures,” he clarifies, his eyes scanning me like I’m a prize to be claimed. Panic rises in me, sharp and acrid, as he takes a step closer. Instinctively, I retreat until the small stand by the window juts into my back, sending a vase teetering precariously.
“Careful now,” Boyd chides mockingly. “Wouldn’t want to break anything before the big day.”
“My father had to clean up quite the mess you made, Cleo,” he continues, encroaching on what little space I have left between us. “The embarrassment you caused me by running off with that mutt…”
His words are like claws raking down my spine, each one a reminder of the power he believes he holds over me.
“Zayn is not a mutt,” I retort, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and worry of why he is in here in the first place.
“Isn’t he?” Boyd’s tone drips with venom, and I can feel the heat of his breath as he leans in. His proximity is suffocating, his intentions clear as daylight.
“Don’t touch me,” I warn, but my voice lacks conviction, muffled by the rapid drumming of my heart. The vase behind me wobbles again, and I realize it could be the only defense between me and whatever Boyd plans next.
“Or what, Cleo?” he taunts, eyes glinting with malice. “You’ll shatter a vase over my head?”
The thought had crossed my mind, yet the cold look in his eyes tells me he’s not above using force. And right now, drugged and unable to shift, I’m at a disadvantage. It’s a vulnerability that terrifies me—a lamb among wolves.
“Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be,” Boyd murmurs, his voice a silken threat. Every instinct screams at me to fight, to lash out against this injustice, however I’m acutely aware of how alone I am in this room with him.
“Zayn will come for me,” I say, though it sounds more like I’m trying to convince myself. “He won’t let you do this. I won’t marry you.”
“Ah, but he’s not here, is he?” Boyd’s cruel smile widens. “And by the time he could even try to save you, you’ll already be mine.” The word ‘mine’ echoes in the room.
“Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” I quip, attempting to veil my panic with a light tone. It’s a feebleattempt to steer his intentions elsewhere, to delay whatever is brewing behind that predatory smile of his.
“Bad luck?” Boyd scoffs, closing the gap between us until I can feel the oppressive heat of his body. “You believe all that superstitious crap?” His fingers ghost over my arms, and I can’t suppress the shiver of revulsion that courses through me.
“Boyd, don’t,” I rasp out, but my plea seems only to embolden him.
“Come now, Cleo, we’re going to be husband and wife. Might as well get comfortable with each other.” There’s a dark promise in his voice, making my skin crawl.
I bite back a scream when he leans in, his lips puckering for a kiss I’d rather die than receive. At the last moment, he pulls away, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.
“Please,” I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice, laced with a fear so potent it tastes like bile.
“Please? Such manners. No need to beg.” His hand moves swiftly, tearing at the fabric of my dress.
Adrenaline spikes through my veins, and instinctively, my hand shoots out to the vase still teetering on the edge of the stand. With a swift motion, I grasp it and bring it down onto his head. The porcelain shatters, shards flying like deadly confetti as Boyd staggers back, hissing in pain. A thin line of blood trickles down from a gash on his face, marring his arrogant features.
“Damn you!” he snarls, fury igniting in his eyes.
In retaliation, he slashes out with his claws, and I’m too slow to evade. Agony sears across my cheek as his nails rake deep furrows into my flesh. Blood, warm and wet, slides down my face when his fist connects with the side of my head. My ears ring loudly, and the ground suddenly rushes toward my face.
“Boyd!” I cry out in pain, clutching at my wounded face, feeling the sticky warmth pooling in my hands and on the floor. “You are a monster! How could you do that?” I snap at him. Ipress my fingers to my face, the wounds not healing, the gashes deep as blood gets in my eyes and mouth.
“Because I can,” he sneers, the malice in his tone chilling me to the core. “And because soon, you’ll have no choice but to accept it.”
His words hang heavy in the air, a suffocating blanket of despair. Beneath the fear and the pain, I feel a flicker. I feel Zarek press against the bond, and his rage slivers through me. When Boyd reaches for me again, I fight back, no matter how futile it is.
Boyd slaps me, and I stare dazedly for a second when he slams my head into the floor. I groan, and he tears my clothes further. I scream for my father, and he clamps a hand over my mouth.
I try to scream for my father once more, coughing as my mouth fills with the metallic tang of blood, my own and Boyd’s. It coats my tongue and my throat, a bitter taste that only adds to the horror of the situation. The weight of Boyd’s body pressing against mine, his hand suffocating me as I struggle to breathe before my underwear is ripped away.
As the world begins to spin, my senses dull beneath the terrifying reality that Boyd is about to violate me, I grasp desperately for Zarek at the other end of our bond. It’s more a sensation than anything else, a reach into the darkness for a familiar presence.
I bite down hard on Boyd’s hand and taste his filthy blood flood my mouth. He howls in pain, giving me a moment’s reprieve. He is larger and stronger. His eyes glow with a sickening intent that churns my stomach when I notice his wolf is forward when he slaps me. I try to scream, and his hand quickly retakes position over my mouth when I hear a creak. At first, I think it is the door, but I can’t turn my head to see. That is forgotten when his hand covers my nose too, cutting my air off.
