ARIA’S POV:

THE BLACKFANG’S ARRIVAL

The moment I stepped out of the carriage, I knew my life was sealed. I breathed in the air of my new prison.

Rogues scattered all around us, shouting and cheering amongst themselves. They were celebrating the man who dragged me by the wrist like I was nothing but a trophy.

Even when my feet stumbled across the rough ground, he didn’t slow down. His grip stayed tight, firm—like he wanted everyone to know I belonged to him now.

Someone in the crowd shouted, “He brought back our queen!”

Liam grinned from ear to ear, nodding his head in approval. As for me, my tummy twisted in agony, and that name queen gave me chills, not the good kind.

“Smile,” Liam whispered to me. I shifted back in fear as his breath touched my neck.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him, but his hand found my waist, pulling me tightly, and it stung. “Smile,” he mouthed.

I forced a trembling curve onto my lips. Anything for survival.

They led us to the towering brick structure before turning away. Liam pulled me along, leading me through twisting hallways before shoving open a door to a large room. A fire burned in the hearth. There was a massive bed in the center, covered in thick blankets.

I lingered at the door.

“Is this… my room?” I asked.

He tossed his coat aside and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Your room?” he repeated, then laughed like I had just cracked a very funny joke.

“This is our room, honey—where we’ll make plenty of pups,” he said, his crazy laughter fading into a smug grin.

I tried to step out, but he pulled me in and closed the door behind me. I swallowed hard, shifting from where I stood. My eyes caught another door, but before I could take a step, he grabbed me and shoved me backward. I hit the bed hard, landing flat on my back.

“Liam, don’t…!”

He was already on top of me, his body pinning mine down. I struggled beneath him, but it was useless. He was stronger, too strong.

His hands gripped my wrists and held them above my head. His hips pressed against my legs, trapping me.

“You’re my mate, remember,” he said, his breath heavy, face so close I could feel it on my skin. “You sleep where I sleep, and besides, this is our wedding night.” 

His gaze dropped to my trembling lips, and as he pressed closer, I could feel the heat of his body—his growing need brushing against my thighs.

“Let me go,” I snapped, trying to push him off.

But his hand slid down to my side. Slowly. Possessively. His fingers traced the curve of my waist, brushing under my ribs again, where he’d touched me before. I breathed in sharply.

“You feel it too,” he said softly. “Your body reacts to mine. You can pretend all you want, but I see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t want you,” I whispered.

He leaned closer. His nose brushed mine. “Not yet.”

Then he kissed me. It was nothing like the soft kisses Kael gave me. It was rough, filled with control and something that made my heart ache. I didn’t kiss him back. I couldn’t. My eyes burned as tears gathered, my chest twisting painfully.

I lay there, stiff and silent, trying not to feel anything. But his hands kept moving. One rested on my hip, holding me down. The other slipped into my hair, tightening slightly as he kissed me deeper.

When he finally pulled away, I could barely breathe.

“You didn’t even try,” he said, his eyes boring into mine.

“You’re not Kael,” I whispered.

And just like that, his expression changed. Gone was the smirk and replaced with a look that made me tremble.

“You’re still thinking about him?”

He stood suddenly, as if my words had slapped him.

“Damn you,” he muttered, turning away and storming toward the door.

The door slammed behind him.

- - -

As soon as I heard his footsteps vanish down the hall, I bolted for the bathroom. I locked the door, leaned over the sink, and scrubbed my mouth raw until the taste of him was gone.

Then I turned on the shower and stood under the freezing water, trying to wash off everything he made me feel.

I stayed until my skin went numb.

Eventually, when I could feel my legs again, I slipped back into the room—only to stop cold.

My breath caught in my throat.

There, in the center of the bed, was a woman.

Chained.

She was lying on her back, dressed in almost nothing. Her wrists were chained to the bedposts, her eyes closed, her breathing soft and shallow.

And standing at the foot of the bed—half-dressed, glistening, wild-eyed—was Liam.

He turned toward me like he had been expecting me all along.

“It’s nice of you to join us,” he said with a twisted smile.