Kaden

Cruelty

His smile while he thrust slow and murmured soft words of love burned my soul but I kept my eyes down. He wanted me to know he could offer them with no hesitation to anyone but me. My pain was the only thing that made him smile. Even though I knew he didn't love her, it did nothing to stop the bitter ache in my heart.

Fate laughed at us. She had to. Why else would she force me to listen while my mate fucked another woman in front of me for the pleasure of knowing he hurt me? I refused to cry. I did the first time and his patronizing smile and feigned words of sorrow cut me to my soul. But it was the delight in his eyes that gave me the strength to withhold my tears.

Every time our eyes met, I drowned in his. He was beautiful, more so than my father, brothers, or the man my parents arranged for me to marry. They had their mates, but they believed I wouldn't find mine since my brothers and sisters found theirs years ago. Thus, they arranged for me to marry a wolf who lost his mate before he met her. He once told me he felt part of his soul die, albeit he felt lighter in my presence. Since I could help him, I agreed to the marriage which was meant to take place months ago.

I lost track of time here, since I was locked in this room, alone. Other than at night when my jailer bound me to a chair so I had to watch or listen to him have sex with another woman. The first night I was gagged as well. He didn't want me to howl my pain and alert my family to my location. He cooed over how cute I looked with something in my mouth, then told me he had a witch in his pack, who he enjoyed fucking in front of me often. She cast a spell that stole my ability to speak, howl, and write. I couldn't communicate with anyone even if I wanted to. I tried gestures once, but I couldn't focus long enough to make my point. Drawing didn't work either. I was a terrible artist to start with, but after a few minutes I lost control of my hand and blackened the page so no one could see what I drew anyway.

If I couldn't communicate, I couldn't ask for help. I understood why he made me suffer like this, but that didn't stop it from hurting. I didn't even know what I'd done to make him hate me so much. We'd never met, I would remember him. How could anyone forget meeting such a powerful man? He was mesmerizing and his presence demanded your attention. Like a flower helpless to seek the sun, my eyes drank him in whenever he deemed me worthy of his attention.

He touched me. Once. While he removed the gag, his fingers brushed my cheek and my skin tingled where he touched me. When I was helpless to lean into his touch, he smirked and his thumb was tender when he stroked my cheek. Then he brought the witch in and told her to ensure I couldn't ever ask for help. He said my voice was the most disturbing sound he'd ever heard and would drive him crazy if he had to suffer it. The more pain I felt, the wider his smile grew.

I only spoke one word to him, when he stepped through my open window on the eve of my wedding I gasped. My window was on the fourth floor, so it wasn't an easy task to reach it. Still, I wasn't afraid of the stranger who approached with a dark scowl because something about him drew me in. I wanted him to come closer, so I could bask in his presence. When our eyes met, I was lost in his gaze, and my lips uttered the word, "mate," without my consent.

Not that it mattered. That was how it went with female wolves. We knew our mate on sight and were the ones who declared it. So, when he grabbed me, I believed everything was right in the world. My mate found me and came for me, came to stop the wedding and save me from a mistake. That's what I thought. Until he scowled and placed his hand over my mouth and nose. I jerked, my body realizing something was wrong, since he wore gloves that smelled so sweet my stomach turned, but I couldn't break free of his hold.

"This changes nothing," he warned, his voice cold. Still, goosebumps rose on my skin to hear it while my ears hoped for more. I could listen to him speak for hours, and still not have my fill of his voice. It was low, deep, and he drawled. It was sexy, even when he was angry and it ignited a fire within me. But such was the fate of a female werewolf meeting her mate. You could be ugly to the world, and your mate saw you for the beautiful soul you were. We couldn't get enough of our mates. We wanted them around, always. Not just for sex, but because they made us feel safe. Beloved. Adored.

Every touch tingled, and was warm. So warm it was addicting. Our souls ached when we were away from our mates because we missed them. We could stare for days and still desire to watch our mate. Clothed, naked, it didn't matter. Our eyes hungered to see them and we could become lost in their gaze for hours. At least that's how it felt according to my sisters.

I knew he was around long before I heard or saw him because my body basked in his presence, yearned for his touch, and trembled under his gaze. If he tried, he could make me fall apart with a look. His sultry eyes on me while he licked his luscious lips would be my undoing. Alas, every gaze was cruel and devoid of affection. My body, heart, and soul needed him. Craved him. But my mind loathed him.

He kept me locked in a small room with a single chair, and a squeaky mattress. Not to annoy me, or so he knew when I moved. No, so when he fucked someone on it, I heard every movement. Every thing he did was cruel, and calculated. Cold.

Most of the time he forgot to feed me, so I went days without food. It wasn't as if there was a way for me to alert him, or ask anyone for something to eat. He made sure of that. Was I meant to starve to death? Or did he intend to break my heart until it killed me? Better yet, was it a race to see which snuffed my life first?