Ridiculous. I don't respect anyone. Respect implies equality, and no one is my equal. And yet... an Omega who has hidden her nature for nine years, who trained as an assassin, who stands before me with defiance despite her biology screaming submission—that deserves something.
Later that evening, Emmett returns with a report on my bride.
"Lady Seraphina has retired to her chambers for the night, my lord," he says. "The guards are in position as you commanded."
"And?" I prompt, my Alpha instincts demanding every detail.
"She has not shed a single tear throughout the day. However, the handmaiden who attended her fitting mentioned that when she believed herself to be alone, Lady Seraphina was practicing some form of light magic. Small scale, contained within her palms."
Now that is interesting. "What kind of magic?"
"The servant couldn't say precisely. Just that it appeared to be a focusing exercise of some kind."
I consider this information. Is she preparing some form of attack? Or simply centering herself? Either way, it speaks to her control. Even facing a forced marriage to an Alpha she must see as a monster, even with her suppressants potentially failing, she's still training. Still focused.
"Keep me informed of any unusual activity during the night," I command. "I want to know immediately if she attempts anything."
Emmett nods. "Of course, my lord. Will there be anything else?"
"How does the ceremonial attire look?" I ask, gesturing to where the elaborate wedding garments hang. "Appropriately terrifying for tomorrow?"
"You'll look exactly like what you are," Emmett replies cryptically.
"A devastatingly handsome Alpha shadow lord about to claim his unwilling Omega bride in a ceremony designed to humiliate her entire court?" I suggest with a grin.
"And if she tries to kill you during the ceremony?" Emmett asks flatly.
I laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "Then we'll have the most exciting wedding in Shadow Court history. Though I suspect once her heat hits, murder will be the last thing on her mind." My voice drops, roughens with Alpha possession. "She'll be too busy begging for my knot."
Emmett's expression suggests he thinks I'm underestimating her, but he says nothing.
"Either way, I win," I continue. "She becomes my mate, bound by blood and magic and biology. And when her suppressants fail—when her heat crashes over her and her Omega nature demands an Alpha—I'll be the only one who can give her what she needs."
The thought sends a dark thrill through me. She'll hate me for it. Hate that her body craves mine, that her biology betrays her principles. But she'll submit. They always do when heat takes over. And once I've knotted her, once I've marked her throat with my claiming bite, once she's carried my scent for days—she'll be mine in ways she can't even imagine yet.
After Emmett takes his leave, I stand at the window, watching the eternal twilight of the Shadow Court deepen toward true night. Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow, I will claim my bride.
I retire to my chambers, though I know sleep will be elusive. Every instinct screams at me to go to her now, to break down her door and take what's mine. But anticipation has its own pleasures. Let her have one final night of believing she's still free. One final night to plot and scheme and imagine she has any chance of escaping what's coming.
Tomorrow at sunset, Seraphina becomes my wife, whether she's ready or not.
And somewhere deep inside, I hope she's still burning with that same defiant fire. Breaking her will be so much more satisfying if she fights back every step of the way.
I tell myself this is about strategy, about binding a powerful enemy to me through ancient magic and biological imperative. But the truth, which I barely admit even to myself, is far simpler: I've wanted her since the mate bond first snapped into place. The political advantages are merely a convenient excuse.
After all, what's the point of being a monster if your victims don't scream?
Though in this case, I'm hoping for an entirely different kind of screaming—the kind an Omega makes when her Alpha finally knots her properly.
But that pleasure will have to wait one more night. One more night of imagining. One more night of hunger.
Tomorrow, the waiting ends.
CHAPTER 4
THE LAST EMBRACE
Seraphina
