Cora didn't remember being brought back to her room.
One moment she was in the basement, slumped in the chair, the leather straps being unbuckled from her wrists. The next she was here, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall without seeing it.
Her body was present. Her mind was somewhere else.
She could still hear the wolf's growl. Still feel its breath on her skin, hot and wet. Still see those silver eyes, inches from her face, teeth bared, saliva dripping onto her legs.
Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Someone had cleaned her up. Changed her clothes. The cuts on her arm were freshly bandaged, white gauze wrapped tight around her forearm. She didn't remember any of it. Didn't remember walking up the stairs, didn't remember the door opening, didn't remember sitting down.
Shock. She was in shock.
She should do something Drink water, Lie down and Try to sleep.
She didn't move.
The light outside the window shifted. Morning bled into afternoon. Shadows crawled across the floor, stretching and shrinking as the sun moved across the sky.
Cora sat and shook and tried to remember how to feel anything other than terror.
A knock on the door.
She flinched. Her whole body jerked, her heart slamming against her ribs, her breath catching in her throat.
The door opened. The same woman who has been coming to bring food , was here again . She stood in the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her.
"The Alpha requests your presence for a meal."
Cora stared at her. The words didn't make sense.
"No."
The woman's expression didn't change. "It wasn't a request."
"I said no." Cora's voice cracked. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not — I can't —"
She was shaking harder now. Her hands, her shoulders, her whole body trembling like she was standing in a snowstorm l
The woman watched her for a moment, Then she turned and left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Cora exhaled. Drew her knees up to her chest. Wrapped her arms around them and held on tight.
She wasn't going. He could send a hundred servants, a thousand wolves, and she still wasn't going. She would stay in this room until she rotted. She would —
The lock clicked.
The door swung open.
Damien walked in
He looked exactly the same as he had in the basement.
Dark suit. Rolled sleeves.He stopped a few feet from the bed, looking down at her huddled form.
"I don't recall giving you a choice."
Cora pressed herself harder against the headboard. Her heart was pounding so fast she could hear it, a frantic drumbeat in her ears.
"I'm not hungry."
"I don't care."
"I can't —" Her voice broke. She hated it. Hated the weakness, the fear,large was tired of men "Please. I can't."
He'd done this to her, let a wolf terrorize her, and now he was standing here expecting her to share a meal with him like nothing had happened.
"You can," he said. "And you will."
He crossed the remaining distance between them. Reached down. His hand closed around her arm , the uninjured one and he pulled her to her feet.
She stumbled. Her legs weren't working properly, muscles weak and unsteady. She would have fallen if he hadn't caught her, his other hand gripping her waist, holding her upright.
He was too close, too close. She could feel the heat of his body, smell that scent that clung to him that made her head spin.
The bond, It was the bond. That invisible thread between them, pulling tight, making her body lean toward him even as her mind screamed to run.
Damien's jaw tightened. He felt it too. She could see it in the way his grip flexed on her waist, the way his nostrils flared slightly.
Then he released her. Stepped back.
"Walk," he said. "Or I'll carry you."
She walked.
The dining room was too bright.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows, bouncing off crystal glasses and polished silver. The table was massive, long enough to seat dozens, but only two places were set c one at the head, one to its right.
Damien pulled out the chair for her .He mocked her . She sat because her legs wouldn't hold her anymore, her body sinking into the cushioned seat l.
He took his place at the head of the table. A servant appeared, setting plates in front of them. Roasted chicken. Vegetables glistening with butter. Fresh bread, still steaming. The smell hit her nose and her stomach cramped, hunger and nausea warring with each other.
She stared at the plate but didn't touch it.
Damien ate in a calm and unhurried way , Like he hadn't spent the morning torturing her.
The silence stretched. Cora's hands were in her lap, fingers twisted together, still trembling. She couldn't make them stop. Every time she tried to reach for the fork, her arm wouldn't obey.
"You're not eating."
His voice cut through the spiral. She blinked. Looked up.
Damien was watching her. His fork was paused halfway to his mouth, his gaze fixed on her face with that unsettling intensity.
"I told you. I'm not hungry."
"Your hands are shaking."
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
He set down his fork. Pushed back his chair. Stood.
Cora tensed, her whole body bracing for, she didn't know what. Another punishment. Something.
Instead, he walked around the table. Stopped beside her chair. Reached past her and picked up her fork.
"Open your mouth."
Cora stared at him. "What?"
He speared a piece of chicken on the fork. Brought it to her lips.
"You need to eat. You can't do it yourself. So I'm doing it for you." His voice was flat. "Open your mouth."
"I'm not a child."
"Then stop acting like one."
The words stung. She opened her mouth to argue — and he slid the fork inside.
The chicken was perfectly cooked. Tender, seasoned, melting on her tongue. Her stomach clenched, desperate for more, and she chewed automatically, swallowing before she could think about it.
Damien was already loading the fork again. Vegetables this time.
"I can feed myself," she said.
"Clearly you can't." He brought the fork to her lips. "Eat."
She ate.
But with each bite, the shaking in her hands lessened. The fog in her brain started to clear. Her body was remembering that it needed food.
He fed her half the plate before he stopped. Set the fork down. Returned to his seat.
Cora's cheeks were burning. She couldn't look at him.
"Thank you." The words came out strangled. She didn't know why she said them.
Damien picked up his own fork. Resumed eating.
"Don't thank me," he said.
Cora picked up her fork. Her hands were steadier now. She managed a few bites on her ownl
"How long did you work at The Argent?"
The question caught her off guard. She looked up, found him watching her again.
"Three years."
"Before that?"
"Other jobs. Cleaning. Waitressing. Whatever paid."
He nodded slowly. Processing. "You lived alone."
"Yes."
"No family."
It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway. "No. I grew up in a group home. Aged out at eighteen."
"Which was?"
She frowned. "Which was what?"
"When did you turn eighteen?"
The question seemed strange,'Out of place But his expression gave nothing away.
"Two days ago."
Damien went still , a pause in his chewing, a slight tension in his shoulders. If she hadn't been watching him so closely, she would have missed it.
"Two days ago," he repeated.
"Yes. Why does that —"
The door opened.
Cora turned ,her breath caught.
The woman who walked in was the most beautiful person she'd ever seen. Tall and pale, with dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of silk. Her dress was red, clinging to curves that belonged on a magazine cover. She moved like water, each step fluid, her presence filling the room like expensive perfume.
But her eyes were dark and held no warmth at all.
"Damien." Her voice was smooth and Musical. "I didn't know you had company."
Damien's expression didn't change. "Seraphina."
Seraphina's gaze slid to Cora , Assessed her and Dismissed her. All in the span of a heartbeat.
"A new pet ?" She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "She's pretty. In a common sort of way."
Cora's cheeks burned. She opened her mouth to respond, but Damien spoke first.
"She's no one. A temporary guest."
"How generous of you."
Seraphina crossed the room, her heels clicking against the marble, and stopped beside Damien's chair. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
Her mouth moved against his, moving slowly , her body curving toward him like a vine seeking sunlight. One hand slid into his hair, tilting his head back, deepening the kiss.
Cora couldn't look away.
Something twisted in her chest, A pain that had nothing to do with the wound on her arm. She felt sick. Furious. Betrayed, which made no sense because he wasn't hers, he was her captor, her torturer, she should be glad—
But she wasn't.
Seraphina pulled back, her lipstick slightly smudged. She smiled down at Damien" I would be waiting for you ", then glanced at Cora.
"Enjoy your breakfast," she said sweetly. "I'm sure it's a treat for someone like you."
She walked out.
The door closed behind her.
Cora's hands were shaking. She pressed them flat against her thighs, trying to stop the trembling.Her eyes burned and Her chest ached.
Damien picked up his fork and Resumed eating,
Like nothing had happened.
It didn't make sense. The twisting, burning sensation that had erupted the moment Seraphina's lips touched Damien's ,it had no right to exist. He was her captor,Her torturer.
Hours ago, he'd strapped her to a chair and let a wolf circle her like prey. She should hate him. She did hate him.
So why did watching another woman kiss him feel like someone had reached into her ribcage and squeezed?
Damien picked up his coffee.l His expression was unreadable, that mask of cold indifference firmly back in place.
"Eat," he said.
Cora stared at her plate. Her stomach turned.
"I'm not hungry."
"I don't care." He set down his cup. "You haven't eaten properly since you arrived. You're no use to me if you collapse."
No use to me.
Of course. That's all she was. A thing to be used.She picked up her fork. Stabbed a piece of melon. Put it in her mouth and chewed.
"Who is she?"