Page 27 of Wolf Trapped
“Until it’s fucking safe.” He bellows, turning on me and pushing me against the wall caging me between his arms. “A pack member was murdered last night, and the wolf has already shown an interest in you. I will not take chances.”
“The wolf is in the woods, not in town in broad daylight, Archer,” I scream at him. “The entire pack will be there. The wolf won’t take on everyone to get to me.”
“No, I have made my decision. You will stay here until we get the wolf.” His nostrils flare with his anger as his big body molds to mine.
“Fine. You know what, then you better get it fast because as long as I’m locked in here, I refuse to mate with you.” My body deflates, and resignation fills me. He isn’t going to listen no matter what I say.
“You dare threaten me? I am your mate. You are fucking mine, and you would refuse me because of a little tantrum? Fine. I’ll leave.” He takes a step back and then another before turning on his heel and storming from the room. The door slams, and the lock clicks into place.
I slide down the wall, slowly curling into a ball in the closet, and rest my forehead on my knees. The first of the tears fall before I even realize that I’m crying. Hopelessness drowns me. How can I get through to him? He doesn’t see me as his mate, his partner.
Will he ever open up to me? What is our life to be like if he is nothing but a beast hellbent on keeping me locked in this gilded cage? I will slowly go insane at this rate. My wolf will take over, and I don’t know if she will ever let me shift back.
“Jara? Where are you?” Angela calls out, nearly in a panic sometime later. I don’t even know how long I sat curled in a ball on the closet floor.
“I’m here.” I stand. My bones cracking with the movements. My body does not appreciate the strain of sitting in that position for so long. I stretch my arms over my head, and my shoulders pop. Relief floods me, but it’s short-lived.
“Were you crying?” she frowns. “Your eyes are red.”
“No, I’m fine. What are you doing here?” Angela sets a tray down on the table. She flinches at my question, and I have a feeling that she used me as an escape from the celebration of life.
“I brought you some food from the celebration.” She takes the lid off, and the scent of roasted chicken makes me nauseous.
“I’m not hungry.” I sit on the bed with my back to her. I don’t want the beta to see my weakness.
“What’s going on? I know that being locked in here sucks, but you didn’t let it get to you like this before.”
“I said I’m fine,” I growl.
Her hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing it gently.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m a prisoner here.” I shrug.
“Is that what you think?” She asks in shock.
“He won’t let me leave this room. I can’t contact or see my family, and whenever he feels like it, he can lock me away and forget about me. Would being rogue and exiled from the packs really be worse than this?” I ask, shaking my head.
At least exiled, I would be free, and I wouldn’t have an overbearing alpha locking me away all the time. I may not have a pack or be able to contact my family, but is that so bad compared to the alternative?
Yes. I did this to bring honor back to my family. I made my choice, and I have to live with it, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
“I think you need to talk to the alpha.” She says softly, and a caustic laugh explodes out of me at the words.
“When am I supposed to do that? How do you expect that to go? Getting him to say anything real is like pulling teeth.” I lean back on the pillow, arms folded across my chest.
How do you force someone to talk to you when they can just leave and you can’t because he locked the damn door?
“Point taken.” She nods. “You are just going to have to try harder because the alpha is even worse when you are fighting.”
“I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t make him not be an asshole.” I grumble. She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. “Why don’t you just leave me to my solitary confinement.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this.” She whispers as she turns and leaves.
The lock clicks, and I huff out a breath, cuddling into the pillows. I turn on my side, away from the other side of the bed, and stare into space.
Maybe I should have let that bastard Grayson exile me and gone rogue. Would it be much worse than this? Rochelle is turning some of the pack against me, and my own mate won’t let me be seen with the pack because it’s not safe. I still can’t see my family. I guess that would be the case either way.
Dread and despair fill my stomach. Why can’t Archer just talk to me? Why can’t he see that I am not some porcelain doll that will break? I can and have taken care of myself on more than one occasion.
