The Alpha's Caged Mate

"Stand up straight, Elara."

My mother adjusted the collar of her silk blouse, her eyes darting across the massive foyer of the Ironwood estate.

"I am standing straight," I muttered, shifting my grip on the heavy suitcase.

"You look like a frightened rabbit. We belong here now. Alpha Kaelen made that very clear."

"I just want to unpack," I told her, avoiding the intimidating gazes of the pack guards stationed by the front doors.

"Second floor, third door on the right," she instructed, pointing up the grand, sweeping staircase. "Make yourself presentable. We have dinner with the entire pack council tonight."

"I will be down in ten minutes."

"Do not dawdle. And for heaven's sake, fix your hair."

"My hair is fine."

"It looks like you have been sleeping in a ditch. We are guests here until the mating ceremony is complete. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Did you bring the extra suppressants?" she asked, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

"They are in my bag," I replied, keeping my tone flat.

"Keep them hidden. Kaelen knows you are an Omega, but the rest of the pack does not need a distraction."

"I wear the patches, Mom. No one will smell a thing."

"See that you do. This is our fresh start. Do not ruin it by going into heat in the middle of a territory meeting."

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper. "I know how to handle my own biology."

"Just go up. I need to find Kaelen. He is supposed to give us the official welcome."

"Who is Kaelen?"

"The Alpha of this territory. The wolf I am marrying. Old Marcus ceded the title to him, and he runs everything now. Do not cross him, Elara."

"I plan on avoiding everyone."

"It is impossible to avoid the Alpha. Just be polite. Keep your scent masked. If he thinks you are a threat to the pack's stability, he will have you thrown out."

"I am not a threat to anyone. I am just trying to finish my college degree."

"Wolves like Kaelen do not care about human degrees. They care about power, territory, and submission. Now go."

I dragged the suitcase toward the stairs. The wheels thumped awkwardly against the thick carpet.

Each step felt like dragging a boulder up a mountain. The Ironwood main house smelled of pine, old money, and domineering Alpha pheromones. It suffocated me.

I reached the second floor landing and paused to catch my breath.

Third door on the right.

I counted the heavy wooden frames lining the long, dimly lit corridor. One. Two. Three.

I pushed the brass handle down and shoved the heavy oak door open.

The room was massive, drowning in twilight shadows.

A figure stood on the connecting balcony.

Broad shoulders blocked the dying sun. He turned.

"You are in the wrong room," he stated. His voice was a low rumble, vibrating against the glass panes.

"My mother said third door on the right," I answered, keeping my chin level.

"She counts poorly."

He stepped inside. His leather shoes made absolutely no sound against the woven rug.

He moved like a predator closing in on a cornered fawn. I wanted to step back, but my boots felt glued to the floorboards.

"I will leave, then," I managed to say.

"Stay exactly where you are."

The command was not a request. It was laced with raw Alpha authority.

My spine snapped completely rigid.

My fingers locked around the plastic handle of my suitcase. I squeezed until my knuckles turned blindingly white.

He closed the distance between us in three long strides, stopping a mere half-step away.

The sheer weight of his aura slammed into me.

My knees began to violently shake. Cold sweat broke out along my temple, sliding down my cheek.

"Look at me," he demanded.

I refused, staring stubbornly at the top button of his dark shirt.

"I said, look at me."

I forced my gaze up. His eyes were a piercing, dangerous gold.

Kaelen.

He leaned down. The movement was terrifyingly smooth.

Instead of speaking, he lowered his face to the curve of my neck.

He inhaled deeply.

"What are you doing?" I choked out, shrinking away.

"Quiet."

His rough index finger reached up. He caught a stray lock of my hair, the strands slipping over his calloused skin.

He twisted the hair around his fingertip, tugging just enough to expose the side of my throat.

His nose brushed the very edge of the flesh-colored scent patch hiding my gland.

A jolt of pure panic spiked through my chest.

"You smell like nothing," he murmured against my skin. "Like sterile hospital gauze and cheap plastic."

A short, dry laugh escaped my throat. The sound was entirely out of place in the terrifying silence of the room.

"Good," I smiled, though my lips felt numb. "Then the patch is worth the twenty bucks I paid for it."

He did not like that. His jaw hardened. The muscle ticked beneath his ear.

"It is a lie," he countered. "A very poorly constructed lie."

He dragged his nose a millimeter higher, the friction of his skin against the medical adhesive sending a terrifying shiver down my back.

"Release my hair," I demanded.

"Make me."

"You are invading my personal space. Alpha or not, back off."

He chuckled, a dark, vibrating sound that rattled my ribs.

"This is my house, little Omega. My territory. My air you are breathing. You have no personal space."

"I am the Alpha's guest," I argued, trying to pull my head away.

He held the lock of hair firm, keeping me tethered to him.

"You are my father's charity case. Do not confuse the two."

"I did not ask to come here. If it were up to me, I would be hundreds of miles away from this pack."

"Then why are you standing in my bedroom?"

"I told you, it was a mistake."

"I do not believe in mistakes."

"That sounds like a personal problem."

His golden eyes flashed with a dangerous spark. "You have a sharp tongue for an Omega hiding behind a piece of tape."

"And you have terrible manners for a future Alpha."

He leaned back slightly, assessing me. The heavy Alpha pressure shifted, wrapping around me like a heavy blanket.

"Most Omegas would be on their knees by now," he observed.

"I have bad joints," I shot back.

"You are shaking."

"I am cold."

"You are terrified."

"I am annoyed."

He took another half-step forward, erasing the tiny sliver of space I had left. The toe of his shoe bumped against my boot.

"Take the patch off," he ordered.

"No."

"I want to know what you really smell like."

"You do not get to demand things just because you have the title."

"I absolutely do."

"Not from me."

His hand moved from my hair, his palm flattening against the wall right beside my head. He boxed me in.

"Every wolf in this house answers to me," Kaelen said softly. "Including your mother. Including you."

"I am not a wolf of this pack."

"You live under my roof. You eat my food. You are mine to command."

"Try it."

His thumb brushed the edge of the patch again. "I could rip this off right now. It would take half a second."

"And I would scream."

"No one would come."

"My mother would."

"Your mother is too busy trying to secure her place in my father's bed."

The crude words hit me like a slap. I shoved hard against his chest, but he did not budge an inch. It was like pushing a brick wall.

"Get out of my way," I hissed.

"You walked into my trap, little fawn. You do not get to dictate when you leave."

"I will bite you."

"I would like to see you try."

He lowered his head again, his lips hovering dangerously close to my covered scent gland. The heat radiating from his skin burned through the thin barrier of the patch.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the sting of his teeth.

The sharp, rapid clack of my mother's shoes echoed from the far end of the hallway.

"Kaelen?" her voice rang out, high and searching. "Kaelen, where are you?"