I'm Your Brother's Wife Dear Ace

Lyra

He pinned me against the cold stone wall. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but his body was a cage of heat, trapping me in the shadows of the corridor.

As he leaned in, his breath brushed against the shell of my ear, sending a traitorous shiver down my spine.

I forced my face into a mask of stone, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

"I know you can feel it," Ace murmured, his voice a low, predatory growl.

He shifted closer, his nose skimming my temple.

"I can smell how your body reacts to me, Lyra. I can smell exactly how much you want me."

The arrogance in his tone made my blood boil, but I remained still. He knew this was a sin. He knew I belonged to Alpha Draven.

He knew I was his brother's wife.

I drew in a sharp breath, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I needed to leave before a guard or a roaming servant noticed us.

Mustering every ounce of strength, I shoved against his chest. He didn't budge at first, but when I met his gaze with a look cold enough to draw blood, he finally stepped back, a smirk dancing on his lips.

I didn't say a word, I didn't need to.

I turned and fled, my heels clicking sharply against the stone until I reached the hollow safety of my chambers.

As the heavy doors clicked shut, the composure I had spent years perfecting finally shattered.

I collapsed onto the silk sheets, my lungs burning as I finally released the air I'd been holding. Closing my eyes, the shadows of the room seemed to shape into the memory of another prison: My father's house.

It had all started there.

Years ago, the pack grounds had been filled with the sounds of shifting, the sickening crack of bone and the triumphant howls of young wolves.

I stood on the sidelines, a small, fragile figure watching the other girls shift and embrace the earth.

"Oh, my Lyra. You didn't shift." My father rushed toward me. At first, his hands were warm as he wrapped them around my shoulders.

"Don't worry, darling. Maybe today is not your day."

As the Alpha, it must have been a humiliation to have a wolfless daughter, yet he carried me back to the house with the care one might give a treasure. But the moment the front door closed, the warmth vanished. He dropped me onto the floor as if I had suddenly turned into a viper.

"What a waste," he snapped, his voice echoing in the foyer.

"Daddy?" I reached out, my voice trembling.

"Don't call me that, you useless thing."

He bent down to my level, his face twisted in a deep frown. He assessed me, his eyes scanning me like a merchant inspecting flawed goods. He reached out, twining a strand of my silver-blonde hair around his finger.

"Listen, girl. You are not allowed to speak. Never. You are a waste of an Alpha's blood."

A slow, mischievous smile spread across his face as he took in my pale, glowing skin and the soft gray-blue of my eyes. "But you are the most beautiful she-wolf I have ever seen. Even at five years old, you look like... this."

He tugged on my hair, forcing me to look at him.

"You are only alive because of your beauty. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I sobbed, tears slipping down my cheeks.

"For the Moon's sake, I said don't talk!" He sighed in frustration, the sound making me flinch.

"Maya!"

The housekeeper appeared instantly.

"Lock her in her room," my father commanded.

"Make sure she stops crying. I don't want those eyes swollen or her beauty ruined. I need it."

Maya carried me upstairs and dropped me onto my bed. I buried my face in the pillows, weeping for the wolf I didn't have and the father who didn't love me.

"Why didn't I shift?" I wailed. "Dad hates me because I didn't shift!"

"At least you are alive," Maya sneered, hovering by the door.

"You should be grateful to him. Stop crying before you ruin the only valuable thing you have."

I nodded, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. A desperate, childish thought took root in my mind: If I keep looking pretty and stay silent, maybe daddy will love me.

I spent the next thirteen years in that room. I was eighteen now, and the walls had become my entire world. The only people I saw were the maids who brought my food and applied expensive oils to my skin. My father visited occasionally, standing in the doorway to inspect his "gem."

"You look ethereal, Lyra," he would say, his eyes gleaming with greed.

"But not beautiful enough yet. If I keep you hidden for a few more years, your value will double."

I hated that beauty, but I clung to it. As long as I was useful, I was okay.

One afternoon, the door swung open, but it wasn't my father. A team of maids marched in carrying a long, silk red gown that glittered like dragon scales. They bathed me in rose water and began the silent ritual of my transformation.

"She doesn't even need the makeup," one maid whispered, brushing my silver hair until it shone like moonlight.

"How can anyone be this beautiful?" another murmured.

"Enough," Maya barked, silencing them. She beckoned to me.

"Let's go."

My heart soared. I was finally going out. I wanted to smile, to laugh, but I remained frozen, terrified that a single expression might anger my father.

When we reached the hall, my father rushed to my side.

"Look at my lovely daughter," he beamed. It was a lie, but for a second, I let myself believe it. He led me into a decorated dining hall, leaning in to whisper in my ear.

"Don't speak. Just smile, but not too wide."

The hope in my chest died.

I took my seat, keeping my gaze soft and gentle, hiding the pain behind my gray-blue eyes.

"Alpha Kael, are you sure she's your daughter?" a man at the end of the table asked, his eyes wide.

"She is," my father lied smoothly.

"Yes, she is, though she's wolfless the Moon Goddess blessed her with Ethereal beauty, sometimes I wonder if she is my daughter, but I watched her coming out of her mother" he smiled,

"I would love to marry her," the man, Alpha Lucien, blurted out. He looked at me, then back to my father, but my father chuckled,

"Though she is wolfless, the Moon Goddess blessed her with ethereal beauty. I would love to marry her off, but she is young, and I want her to choose her husband herself."

I kept the plastic smile on my face. I know the game now. I was the lure.

"That property in the East you wanted? It's yours. For free. I have more land than I know what to do with."

My father gasped, feigning shock.

"I couldn't possibly....."

"I insist," Lucien bragged, desperate to impress the silent doll at the table.

This became my life. Every few months, a new Alpha would arrive. I would be dressed, bathed, and sat at a table while my father traded my silence for land, gold, and power. Word spread like wildfire: the Wolfless Princess was the most beautiful creature in the world, and she was waiting for a mate.

I turned twenty-one in silence.

The morning of my birthday, the maids were more frantic than usual.

They dressed me in white lace and pearls. When I reached the dining room, my father didn't wait for the guest to speak.

"Meet your husband, Lyra," he said, gesturing to a man I had never seen.

"You are getting married tomorrow." I froze.

My heart felt like it was breaking through my ribs. Husband? Tomorrow?

I looked at my father, my eyes pleading for the choice he had promised the world I had. But I saw the truth in his cold, calculating stare.

Lyra

Today was the day I became a wife. As the heavy silk of my gown brushed against my legs, I couldn't stop the relentless wondering: what had he offered my father in exchange for me? I had tried to catch the frantic whispers of the maids as they cinched my corset, but their secrets remained just out of reach.

I remembered a northern Alpha who had once tried to touch my hand during a gala. My father had barked a price so steep the man's face drained of color until he looked like a ghost. For my father to agree to hand me over to Alpha Draven, the price must have been a king's ransom.

"Don't forget to smile," Maya whispered, pulling a strand of hair into place. I caught her gaze in the mirror.

Despite the years of her sharp tongue and hateful glares, a flicker of something...pity, perhaps, shone in her eyes. A strange ache settled in my chest; I would actually miss her.

I was a vision in royal blue, the fabric draped over me like a heavy ocean. A thick gold necklace weighed down my throat, and my silver-white hair was pulled back into a sleek, tight ponytail.

Despite the weight of the jewelry, a spark of genuine hope warmed my blood. Soon, I would be away from this house. I could finally speak. I could finally find my own voice.

The door creaked open, and my father stepped in.

"Look at her," he murmured, his eyes scanning me with the chilling admiration one might give a prized statue.

"I can't believe you are finally leaving."

For one fleeting heartbeat, I thought I detected a tremor of genuine emotion in his voice. Then, he leaned in, his shadow falling over me.

"No matter where you go, Lyra, I am watching. So behave. No talking. Just smile, like the doll you are."

He took my hand, his grip firm and cold. The fragile happiness I'd nurtured withered instantly. I forced my lips to curve upward, burying the sadness deep beneath the surface. It doesn't matter, I told myself.

Today, I leave him behind.

When we stepped into the Great Hall, the air seemed to vanish as the guests drew a collective breath.

"Wow, she's beautiful."

"A goddess..."

"So the rumors were true. The Princess of Moonveil is a living myth."

I kept my gaze fixed forward. To them, my beauty was a wonder; to me, it was a cage I had inhabited since birth. I remembered the night I had pressed a knife to my own cheek, desperate to ruin the currency my father traded in. He had caught my wrist, his voice a low hiss:

"The only reason you are alive is because of your beauty." I had dropped the blade, and I hadn't picked it up since.

As we walked down the aisle, my blood turned to ice. Every step toward the altar felt like a step toward a door that was finally unlocking. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard the sound of my own voice.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird seeking an exit.

Then, I was standing before him. Alpha Draven.

My father stood beside me, his eyes glistening with fake, practiced tears. I ignored him and looked at my groom.

Draven was strikingly handsome, more so than any Alpha I had ever seen. His eyes were the color of cold steel, and his jet-black hair offered a sharp, beautiful contrast to his pale skin.

I felt a surge of relief. At least he was pleasant to look at. I recalled the maids murmuring about how men marry for love, and how they cherished beautiful wives. Perhaps, in the Blackthorn Pack, I would be more than a trophy. I smiled at him, my heart full of hope for our future.

"Under the Moon, do you take her as your wife, Alpha Draven?" the priest intoned.

"I do," Draven said, his voice a deep, resonant chime.

"Under the Moon, do you take him as your husband, Princess Lyra?"

The silence stretched. I didn't know if I was permitted to break the rule yet. My eyes instinctively sought my father, the way I had been trained to do since I was a child.

Nod, he mouthed, his expression a thin veil over a threat.

I obeyed.

"Alpha Draven of the Blackthorn Pack is now the husband to Princess Lyra of Moonveil," the priest declared.

"This union is blessed by the Moon; what she has joined, no man can break."

We walked hand-in-hand toward the carriage. It was my first time actually stepping inside one; usually, I was just the ornament sitting on a stool at my father's parties, smiling at jokes I didn't understand while he guarded me like a jealous dragon.

As the carriage door clicked shut, isolating us, I felt the words bubbling up in my throat. I opened my mouth to finally introduce myself to my husband.

"You were trained to be quiet," Draven said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

"So be quiet."

My world shattered. The hope that had been rising in me turned to lead. Was this just a different cell in the same prison? I tried to tell myself he just didn't know. He didn't realize I had a voice to give.

"I..." I started, my voice raspy from disuse.

Draven recoiled, his gray eyes flashing with shock and then-disturbingly-fury.

"You talk?"

I attempted a small, hopeful smile, ready to explain. But his next words broke what was left of my spirit.

"If I knew you were broken, I wouldn't have bought you," he spat, his face contorted with anger. "He told me you were a mute."

He threw open the carriage door and stormed out. I fought the hot sting of tears.

Don't cry, I lectured myself. If your eyes get puffy, you lose your value. I put on the mask. I wore the smile I was born to wear.

The door opened again, but it was my father who climbed in, his face a mask of rage.

"Why did you try to speak?" he hissed. "I told you, your beauty is the only thing keeping you alive. Do not destroy my plans."

A tear escaped, rolling down my cheek, but I quickly blinked the rest back. Then, with terrifying speed, his face softened. He reached out and caressed my hair as if he hadn't just been shouting.

"You are more useful when you are quiet, Lyra. Don't you want to be useful?"

I nodded slowly, my throat tight.

"Good girl. Now, stay quiet." He stepped out of the carriage.

A few minutes later, Draven returned. The anger had vanished, replaced by a satisfied, chilling smile. He reached out, his thumb grazing my cheek.

"You truly are as beautiful as they say," he murmured. "But you'll look even better when you're silent."

He looked triumphant, like a man who had just won a rare prize at an auction. I felt the weight of his gaze, but my heart felt hollow. I was a trophy. I was a wolfless curse wrapped in a beautiful package.

The freedom I had tasted was nothing more than a cruel delusion. I hadn't been free; I had been traded.

I sat back against the velvet seat, praying to the Moon that felt very far away, wondering if this new prison would be my end.

Lyra

If I had ever dared to hope this prison would be kinder than my father's, the first two days of travel proved me a fool.

When the carriage finally lurched to a halt at the Blackthorn pack house, Draven didn't offer a hand. He stepped out into the crisp air, leaving me to navigate the high step in my heavy gown alone. As I descended, a ripple of whispers greeted me.

"The wolfless princess," they breathed.

"She really is ethereal."

I did the only thing I had been trained to do: I painted a smile onto my face and held it there until my cheeks ached.

Draven walked straight toward a woman standing on the porch. She looked to be in her thirties, with sharp, calculating eyes.

To my horror, he pulled her into a lingering embrace, the kind of hug reserved for lovers, not family. When she finally pulled away to look at me, her gaze was dripping with venom.

"You really are as beautiful as the rumors say," she sneered, her voice like sandpaper.

"Too bad you're a mute. And wolfless."

The insult burned, but I kept my smile locked in place. I wanted to scream, to ask what I had done to deserve such cruelty from someone I don't even know.

"Elin!" the woman barked.

A young maid, no older than myself, hurried forward.

"She is your responsibility now," the woman commanded. "Take her to her chamber and ensure she doesn't come out."

I followed Elin through the castle. It was a place of cold grandeur, marble floors that clicked under my heels and the suffocating scent of expensive wood and power. But as we walked, the luxury began to fade.

We bypassed the grand suites, descending a flight of stairs that led deep into the bowels of the building. The air grew damp and chilly.

We stopped at a golden door at the very end of a dark corridor. It was the only room down here, hidden away from the rest of the pack. Just past it, at the very end of the hall, stood a well-decorated and well-lit tent.

"I stay there," Elin said, gesturing to the tent, before unlocking the golden door for me.

"This is your room, My Lady. If you need me, press this button, since you can't talk. I will open the door when you have an event."

She waited until I nodded, then left. The click of the lock echoing in the silence felt like a gavel.

I collapsed onto the bed, the weight of the day finally crushing me. The tears I had been holding rushed out in a silent torrent. I sobbed into the pillow, but eventually, the fear of Draven seeing my "puffy eyes" took over. I rang the bell.

When Elin returned, I gestured toward my face. She understood, applying a fresh layer of makeup to hide my misery.

I sat on the edge of the bed for hours, waiting for my husband.

Maya had said the wedding night was "special," a time for a husband and wife to consummate their union. I didn't fully understand it, but I knew I was supposed to be ready. I paced the small, cold room, my royal blue gown feeling like a lead weight, refusing to change for fear of being a disappointment.

As the moon climbed high, I noticed my door was slightly ajar. My heart skipped. Had Elin been careless? Or was this an invitation?

Driven by a desperate curiosity, I slipped out. I retraced my steps up the stairs, my bare feet silent on the cold stone. I searched the rooms on the upper floors until I found a door at the end of the hall, standing open just a crack.

I pushed it wide, and my blood ran cold.

Alpha Draven was there, but he wasn't alone. He was on top of the woman from the afternoon, his the lady he had hugged at the entrance. They were both naked, their skin slick with sweat. I stood frozen as the realization of what I was seeing crashed over me.

Sex.

My husband was with another woman on our wedding night.

The woman looked up, a triumphant smirk crossing her lips as she locked eyes with me. Draven didn't stop. He didn't even try to hide. He simply looked over his shoulder, his eyes as cold as steel.

"If you're done watching," he said, his voice flat and bored, "you can lock the door."

I did as he said, my hands shaking as I turned the handle. As I turned to flee, Elin was already there, waiting to lead me back to my room. That's when it clicked, the door left open, the "careless" maid, the ajar bedroom door......it was all a play, a scene staged for me to witness.

Back in my room, I sat in the dark.

"Are you okay?" Elin asked. For the first time, I saw genuine pity in her eyes.

I hated it. I didn't want her pitying me. I forced a smile and nodded until she finally left. As soon as the door shut, I ran to the bathroom. I filled the tub and plunged my head beneath the surface.

Under the water, I finally let out the scream I had been holding for years. I shouted into the silence of the water until my lungs burned. When I pulled myself up, gasping for air, I looked in the mirror.

Even with ruined makeup and bloodshot eyes, I was still "ethereal." I was still a masterpiece. I hated every inch of my reflection. I practiced my smile, adjusting my expression until the girl in the mirror looked "useful" again.

I thought about the knife. I thought about destroying the only thing people valued. But my father's voice echoed in my head:

"The only reason you are alive is because of your beauty."

I wasn't a person. I was a wolfless freak kept as a pet because I was pretty to look at.

"The wolfless princess with the ethereal beauty," I whispered.

That was all I was allowed to be.