BOUND BY THE ALPHA

CHAYSE'S POV

My father, the Beta, always warned me.

But my life never went as planned.

They didn't just warn me away; they practically shoved me out the door. A silk dress. Makeup. A corset that crushed my abdomen until I couldn't breathe.

"Go get married tonight," my father ordered.

He just wanted me gone. He was tired of my training, tired of my ambition to take his rank as the next Beta of the Amber Sky Pack. I was a distraction.

This gathering wasn't for socializing. It was for one thing: Mating. Every eligible wolf between eighteen and twenty-five was here to dance, drink, and find their forever.

I ignored the ballroom. I went straight up the stairs to the large rooms, making a beeline for the bar.

I didn't drink, but I liked watching the bartenders. It was a distraction.

I got myself a bottle of Scotch-a defensive move. I snatched a plateful of the finest sweets and pastries and sat back down. Fortress Chayse.

I took a sip of the Scotch. It burned clean.

That's when the first idiot slid over.

His smile was sloppy. His words slurred, thick and sweet.

"Hey, did it hurt when you fell from heaven? 'Cause you look like the finest angel to exist."

Nope. Not my Mate. And definitely not sober.

I pushed the barstool with my elbow. He tumbled to the floor.

Victory. I celebrated with a large bite of a chocolate chip cookie.

Suddenly, I felt cold, bone-deep exhaustion. I needed coffee. My father wouldn't even let me have chocolate milk without asking first, but tonight, I was filling up on caffeine and sugar.

"Chayse!"

Eliza. My best friend. My annoying, high-pitched best friend.

I set down my coffee cup.

"You said you wouldn't leave me to the appealing men!" She grabbed my arm, her grip frantic, and dragged me onto the dance floor.

"Monitor me!" she gasped. "I don't want to get caught up in their... their *gorgeous*... faces... jawlines..."

She started to drool. I laughed, snapping her out of the trance.

"Look, I'm not getting chosen, and I don't want you falling for anyone," I teased, grabbing her hands and swinging her hard around the room.

"Yeah right. You definitely won't get chosen," she snorted, but the sarcasm died when her eyes went wide.

She stopped moving. She sniffed the air, her face focused, her eyes scanning the room.

Her gaze locked on a man sitting at a table. He was doing the same-scanning, searching.

They moved toward each other. Fast. They met and he crushed her in a hug.

Eliza was gone.

Her Mate. James. A massive soldier from our class. He was a good wolf. I felt a pang of relief for her. She was safe. She would stay here.

I went back to my barstool. Alone.

My treats were still there. I reached for a second piece of fudge.

That's when the gasps started.

The sound tore through the music. I turned.

My nose caught it. The air filled with pine and oak. The scent of three packs, but one smell-one overwhelming, primal odor-made my stomach clench.

The golden eyes. They stood out from the crowd like molten metal.

My spine shivered. My wolf, Aria, erupted.

'Mate! Chayse! Go to him! Now! GO!'

"Shut up, Aria! I am not abandoning my fudge for a second time today!" I snapped in my mind.

A low growl-a sound that burrowed under the skin-enveloped the room. It was deeper than any growl I had ever heard. It belonged to only one man.

Alpha Laven of the Blood Moon Pack.

Aria was howling gibberish. I wanted to punch her. The crowd cowered, turning to stone.

The golden eyes cut through the terror and landed on me.

I spotted Eliza, her face buried in James's chest. James was trembling, holding her tight. They knew this Alpha. They knew the danger.

The golden eyes grew nearer. They locked onto mine, and my heart hammered-not with fear, but with a horrifying, primal certainty.

Alpha Laven. The most feared man in history.

My shoulders trembled, my piece of fudge still in my hand. His face was a mask of cold stone. His golden eyes were hard, fixed.

His massive arms slammed down on the bar on either side of me, pinning me against the wood, trapping me against his chest.

"Mine," he growled, the word ripping deep from his throat.

"Yeah, mine," I shot back, forcing the sarcasm. I picked up the fudge and popped it into my mouth. "Definitely my fudge, mister."

He just stared. No flicker of emotion. Just a subtle, condescending eye roll at my absolute defiance.

"I enjoy being in your presence more than anything else," he whispered, leaning close. The mint scent was suffocating. "Amber Sky she-wolf."

"I enjoy your presence about as much as I enjoy sleeping next to a trashcan," I replied simply, narrowing my eyes.

The golden eyes flared. Not pleasant.

Anger convulsed his jaw, his hands clenching on the table so hard the wood groaned.

I examined him quickly. Tan skin. Razor-sharp stubble along his jawline. Every girl's dream, now my nightmare.

He let out that deep growl again. This time, I didn't tremble. I cocked an eyebrow, meeting his stare.

He grabbed my arm harshly and started dragging me toward the door.

"If I see any of you looking at my Mate, your limbs will be ripped from your body!" he roared, his voice a promise of violence.

He shoved me out the door and into a sleek, black Bugatti.

I grabbed the door handle, desperate to escape.

"You know, you are committing a crime, mister!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "This is practically kidnapping!"

"I am your Mate, I can do whatever I want, she-wolf," he snarled, slamming his door.

"No, this is human trafficking! And I have a name!" I snarled back.

He grabbed my wrist, squeezing. Hard. Brutally hard.

"Stop! You're hurting me!" I cried out, the sharp pain pulling tears from my eyes.

A brief moment of regret crossed his face before his hard stare slammed back into place.

He let go. I rubbed my wrist, the bone throbbing.

I looked at the monster who claimed me.

I gave him the one thing he hadn't yet crushed.

My identity.

CHAYSE'S POV

"You got your name wrong, darling."

Alpha Laven smirked, a cruel flash of amusement in his golden eyes. It was the first sign of emotion I'd seen-and it was always bad.

My eyes were still red and puffy. I clutched my bruised wrist to my chest. He wasn't reaching for me, but the fear was a knot in my stomach.

"Your name is Chayse Laven."

A breath hissed out between my teeth. Laven. His last name. A brand.

I was his captive. His possession.

He didn't kill me with his reckless driving, but he might as well have. He dragged me up the colossal stairs of his mansion, my lace dress snagging on every step, my luggage left in the dust.

My tailbone screamed. My opposite wrist, the one he grabbed when he yanked me out of the Bugatti, throbbed. My shoulder and elbow were screaming, strained from the uneven, brutal pull.

He didn't care.

He threw me onto a bed-a huge, dark thing that smelled overwhelmingly of mint, his scent.

I flipped myself over to face him. Too slow.

He was already on top of me. His arms slammed down on either side of my head, trapping me. Again.

"Time for your punishment, little mate."

I flinched at the word 'Little'. I was 5'4". He was 6'2". I wasn't small; he was unnaturally tall.

His suit jacket was gone. His shirt was a tight, black second skin over a body built for destruction.

He leaned down. My jawline. His kiss was soft. Gentle. Then harder, more passionate.

He moved to my neck. Licking and kissing, his lips moving like silk against my skin.

He found a spot-right below my earlobe-and my wolf lost control. A weak, involuntary groan escaped before I could bite my lip hard enough to silence it.

I felt his smirk press against my skin. He sucked and kissed that spot, claiming it. Branding me.

When he finally lifted his head, his perfectly sculpted face was close. Too close. His eyes connected with mine.

I have a plan. A devious, devilish thought flashed through my mind. *A million-dollar plan.

I wished for a hidden camera. I wished this were a prank.

I stretched out my hand. I cupped the side of his sharp, stubbled face. His shocked expression instantly melted into pleasure.

He pressed his face into my palm. I threaded my fingers into his hair, gripping the roots, pulling with a sharp tug.

A low moan escaped his lips. His golden eyes fluttered closed.

I shoved him off the bed, scrambling out from under his weight. I sprinted toward the door, leaving my ruined heels behind.

I ran.

My shorter dress was a blessing. I thanked the Moon Goddess as I flew down the hallway. I tried door after door, hoping for a window, a back entrance, a way out of the fortress.

No windows. I was in the heart of the house. A death trap.

I opened one more door-and slammed straight into a wall of muscle.

His eyes plunged into my brain, seeing every wicked thought. He grasped my waist, pulling me to his chest. My face was centimeters from his.

"You took advantage of my weakness, Chayse."

"Hair pulling?" I asked, hopeful. Next time, I'd go for a full yank.

"No," he snarled. He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of garbage. My back hit his tight shirt, forcing a painful gasp from my lungs.

He carried me back into the room.

"I have clothes for you in the second closet," he said, his voice flat, emotionless once more. "Cleansing products in the cabinet above the sink. Go get ready for bed."

I slid off his shoulder and bolted into the bathroom. I locked the door, a small, futile victory.

I chose a long shirt and undergarments from the closet, then stripped naked. I stepped into the huge bathtub before filling it. I didn't care about my odd habit. It was warm. It was safe.

The heater roared. Warm water filled the tub.

I sighed, letting the heat sink into my skin, easing the agony in my tailbone and my wrists.

I found shower gel and smoothed it over my legs. Coconut Oil was in the cabinet. I worked it into my hair, softening the dry ends. The scent of coconut covered the pervasive mint.

I sank peacefully into the water, rinsing quickly, finishing with body soap.

Warm towels were waiting on the counter. I wrapped one around my body and dried my hair with the other. I slipped on the long, maroon shirt and undergarments.

I opened the bathroom door.

The bedroom was empty. The scent of Alpha Laven was faint, but still present.

I shrugged, collapsing into the bed. I pulled the heavy covers over my body, inhaling the mint, pine, and oak wood.

I was officially a part of the Blood Moon pack. His captive.

The door opened. Slowly.

Laven. He was barefoot.

He walked silently toward the bed, examining my face. He looked at my soft brown hair, my skin.

He reached out and gently brushed the side of my head. I smiled in my sleep, a reflex of my traitor wolf, Aria.

He kissed my forehead.

"You have no idea what you did to me, Little Mate," he whispered, his voice dark, possessive.

He moved to his side of the bed and climbed in, slowly pulling my body against his chest, careful not to wake me.

When I was against him, he sighed. A deep, settling sound.

The calmest sleep he'd ever known.

CHAYSE'S POV

The Alpha was a possessive predator. I already knew that.

But I had a weakness-a tactical advantage that worked once. I would try it again.

I turned over on the massive bed, facing his perfectly sculpted, terrifyingly hard chest. His golden eyes were closed. His breathing was slow and steady.

I placed my hand on his rock-hard chest. I let my fingers trace his abdomen. His face, even in sleep, shifted. A breathless expression.

I hauled myself up and placed soft, deliberate kisses along his jawline. I moved down his throat, my lips dragging against his skin.

Very hard to do. But necessary.

The moment his throat rumbled-a soft, deep growl of pleasure-I knew I was winning. I focused my tongue on a specific spot. The growl deepened, a vibration I could feel through the bone.

I worked my way back up his neck, toward his chin. I waited for the grip around me to loosen.

It didn't.

'You didn't think you could fool our ,mate a second time, Chayse? Did you?'

Aria! I cursed my wolf. It's morning! Forgive my foolishness, but we have bigger problems.

The Alpha's hand clamped onto the back of my head. He pulled my face toward his, stopping centimeters from his lips.

He chuckled. The sound confused me.

"You thought I was sleeping?" he laughed, his golden eyes flashing open. The gold was suddenly shot through with specks of light blue.

I stiffened, inhaling the stronger scent of mint.

"Oh, Little Mate, if I had stayed asleep through that, I would have to hate you."

He growled seductively. "You're wearing my shirt, Chayse."

His hand slid down my bare leg. My whole body shook. Aria was howling and purring like a housecat. I was frozen-a useless, trembling mess.

"You'd better change that before things get too out of hand."

He loosened his grip. That was the only invitation I needed.

I bolted.

I threw open the door and sprinted down a different hallway. Windows to my left! A chance!

I glanced down the side of the mansion. Four stories. I snarled under my breath. Who needed a four-story house? And who cleaned it?

I hit the main staircase. I flew down the steps toward the front door-and gasped.

He was waiting.

Alpha Laven stood there, arms open, his trademark smirk visible even from a mile away.

He didn't move fast. He simply grasped my waist, pulling me to his chest. His breath hit my neck. I went instantly limp.

"Little Mate, you're still wearing no pants, in my shirt, and you ran off," he whispered.

His grip tightened on my waist. I gasped at the pressure. Bruises were forming; I knew it. Just like my wrist.

I whimpered.

His eyes flashed regret. Shared hurt. Just like yesterday.

Then he lifted me, making me straddle his waist, and placed me gently on a plush couch. He leaned over me, examining me like a broken toy.

I rolled my eyes.

"Could you please give me a moment without physical contact?" I said, injecting a stern warning into my voice. "A free wolf like me would really like some time to run around and be the woman that I am."

He growled-a low, annoyed rumble-but he let me up. My waist finally got relief.

"I am going to work. Stay here." His tone was a command. "I have someone coming to take you around town."

He turned and ascended the stairs, back to his room.

I collapsed onto the couch. I vowed to never try the sexual manipulation trick again.

I lifted the shirt. Brown bruises, lined with red, were already forming on my sides. I frowned, but dealt with the sharp throb. Healing was already at work.

I went into the massive kitchen, which was conjoined with the living room. I needed sustenance.

I searched the cabinets. Above the toaster was a pumpkin bread. The most delicious thing my eyes had ever seen.

I couldn't reach it.

I climbed.

I hauled myself onto the polished white marble counter, then gripped the cabinet shelf. My foothold slipped. I tumbled backward, grabbing desperately at the cabinet door.

Snicker doodle! I cursed-a non-curse, but it felt strong.

I twisted in the air and landed hard on the floor. The cabinet door was ripped off its hinges, cushioning my fall.

I cringed. My wrist took the brunt of the impact. But my werewolf healing was already working, mending what was torn.

"Stupid cheap cabinets and such fancy counters! Curse the kitchen gods!" I muttered, standing up.

The light pitter-patter of feet came from the hallway. Not a man.

"Hey!"

I jumped, my senses kicking in.

A girl. Peppy. Excited. Just like Eliza.

"I'm Caroline, Luna," she said, her voice bright. "And I'm here to take you around town, buy you some clothes, and hang out for the day!"

I smiled, dropping the formality. "No need to call me Luna, Caroline. I prefer just my first name, Chayse."

She leaned forward, conspiratorial. "Meet me outside once you've gotten dressed."

She ran to the front door, threw it open, and sat on the porch step.

I shrugged. I headed upstairs to the second closet. I picked out a simple outfit-a defense against the dress code. I pulled on my white Converse and went outside.

When Caroline saw me, she bolted, taking off across the lawn and expecting me to follow.

Running. Finally, a chance to be a free wolf.

But as I chased her across the massive lawn, I realized something critical.

We were not running out.

We were running further in. The Blood Moon territory stretched further than I imagined, and there were no visible fences, no walls, and no escape routes.

And then I saw it: a tiny, silver-lined bracelet on Caroline's wrist. A marker. A tracker.

I wasn't being shown the town. I was being tested.