~Caligo's Point Of View~
She didn't belong here.
But neither did I.
As I led her out of that blood-stained ballroom with her wrist vibrating inside my grip, I felt it again; that buried, boiling itch inside my ribcage. The same one that had clawed at me since the day I first opened my eyes and realized I was nothing but a nameless bastard in this cursed bloodline.
The Alpha's mistake. A prostitute's child…
And now… this girl. This wide-eyed, reckless, damnably human girl… she was the key to it all.
"Let me go," she barked, yanking against my hand as I dragged her through the marbled halls.
Her voice was high pitched, trembling from fear and fury, but it cracked through the fog in my skull like a goddamn hammer.
I stopped just for a second.
Her chest heaved as she glared up at me, her nose flaring with rage. Her hair—God, her hair was the longest length of curly hair I had ever seen, mussed from the disarray and falling around her shoulders.
Her cheeks still bore the ghost of that slap… so flushed, so raw, so 'makes me want to cut more than fingers'. Maybe heads this time.
And her body… she had those maddening curves that defied her soft, convent-raised life. That innocence wrapped in temptation, like something the gods made just to curse men.
"Let me go," she repeated, slower this time, still shooting me that scolding glare like she was a mother, and I, the child.
Funny how my own mother never even scolded me before. She didn't have enough morals to teach a child right from wrong.
Alcohol, however, she had had enough of those filling her belly day in and day out. She was a disgrace.
I turned to face her fully and stepped closer.
"No." She gave a sharp nasal intake.
And still, I didn't release her. Instead, I kept walking, leading her past the portraits of wolves who'd smiled through centuries of blood and betrayal. She stumbled, but I didn't slow down. We didn't speak again until we reached my door.
I opened it and dragged her inside.
The heavy oak shut behind us with a slam, cutting her off from the rest of the house… all the toxicity and hate. In here, it was just her and me.
My room was cast in shadows. The walls were dressed in black and deep red. Silk curtains. Books I never finished and weapons I had.
Rose jerked away from my hold the moment we crossed the threshold. She spun on me, arms crossing over her chest like she could shield herself from what she didn't understand.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. "That girl—she was screaming. She… she lost fingers, Caligo! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
Did she just call me by my name? And by the Moon, did it have to sound so tantalizing, dropping from her succulent lips like that?
My jaw tightened.
"You shouldn't worry about what isn't yours."
"She's a person!"
"No. She's a wolf. They all are. Every single one of them in this house. And she'll heal." I pointed out, hands going into my pockets.
Rose's fingers raked her hair as she vigorously shook her head. I knew this must be a lot for her to take in. She was about to be faced with an entirely different life from what she was used to.
She hadn't even faced the worst yet.
Then, slowly, her face fell in disbelief. "Wolves? Are you—? You're insane. You're all fucking crazy."
Of course, she didn't know. Ciro had found her all those years ago and didn't bother to tell her. He didn't even bother to meet her. Didn't have the balls to claim her because she was human. Because he thought she was less.
So I bought her.
Dragged her from the dirt of that miserable convent and into the heart of this pack of teeth and claws just to spite him.
And yet… the more she looked at me with that fire in her eyes, the more it knocked on a closed door within me.
The revenge I had dipped my heart in curdled into something else.
Want. Obsession. Hunger.
I stepped closer. She stepped back.
"You're mine now," I said lowly.
"No," she breathed. "No, I'm not…"
"Eat well. You need strength. I want your health intact when you carry my child."
Her gasp was so sharp, I thought someone had died. She took another step back, bumping into the wall behind her. "You're out of your mind."
"And yet," I murmured, tilting my head, "you haven't run."
"I would—if this place wasn't a damn labyrinth!" she spat, cheeks hot and chest rising with fury.
I stepped into her space. Her breath hitched. She was shaking, and yet she looked at me like she'd rather spit in my face than flinch.
God, she was magnificent.
"You're disgusting."
"You're beautiful."
She recoiled, but I inclined closer. And then I kissed her.
Her lips were soft and frozen; shocked, wide, and parted just enough to let my name slip through in a soundless breath. I tasted salt and the memory of anger, felt the jolt of her hands pressed between us, not pushing… just there, stunned.
She didn't know what to do.
When I pulled away, her eyes were huge. Her hand rose slowly to her mouth like she'd just tasted poison. Then she scrubbed her lips furiously, and for the first time in forever, I almost laughed.
I didn't, but I almost did. That was… a lot.
"Don't ever do that again! You're disgusting." She yelled in a shaky but hard voice.
I just watched her, pulse thudding in my throat.
"You've never been kissed before."
"Go to hell."
"I like your lips," I said calmly. "And there are other things I'd like to check. See if you're perfect all over."
Her hand flew before she could stop it—but I caught her wrist in the air. She sucked in breath, not from fear, but the intensity. The proximity.
"You'll regret it," she whispered.
"I already do," I said, tightening my grip on her hand just enough to remind her who bought her.
Who saved her. Who was going to break her if she didn't understand what this was.
She was Ciro's mate.
The one he let rot in white walls and silence because he didn't want to taint the family name.
But I was already tainted, so I could have her. It couldn't get any filthier than this. And now she was mine.