Chained By The Alpha Jessica Hall

"My father had to clean up quite the mess you made, Cleo," he continues, encroaching on what little space I have left between us. "The embarrassment you caused me by running off with that mutt..."

His words are like claws raking down my spine, each one a reminder of the power he believes he holds over me. I can't help but think of Zayn then his fierce silver eyes, the commanding presence. He'd never speak of anyone, least of all me, with such disdain

"Zayn 1s not a mutt," I retort, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and worry of why he is in here in the first place

"Isn't he?" Boyd's tone drips with venom, and I can feel the heat of his breath as he leans in. His proximity 1s suffocating, his intentions clear as daylight

"Don't touch me," I warn, but my voice lacks conviction, muffled by the rapid drumming of my heart. The vase behind me wobbles again, and I realize it could be the only defense between me and whatever Boyd plans next "Or what, Cleo?" he taunts, eyes glinting with malice. "You'll shatter a vase over my head?"

The thought had crossed my mind, but the cold look in his eyes tells me he's not above using force. And right now, drugged and unable to shift, I'm at a disadvantage. It's a vulnerability that terrifies me a lamb among wolves

"Let's not make this harder than it needs to be,"

Boyd murmurs, his voice a silken threat. Every instinct screams at me to fight, to lash out against this injustice, but I'm acutely aware of how alone I am in this room with him

"Zayn will come for me," I say, though it sounds more like I'm trying to convince myself. "He won't let you do this. I won't marry you."

"Ah, but he's not here, is he?" Boyd's cruel smile widens. "And by the time he could even try to save you, you'll already be mine."

The word 'mine' echoes in the room

"Isn't it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?" I quip, attempting to veil my panic with a light tone. It's a feeble attempt to steer his intentions elsewhere, to delay whatever is brewing behind that predatory smile of his

"Bad luck?" Boyd scoffs, closing the gap between us until I can feel the oppressive heat of his body. "You believe all that superstitious crap?" His fingers ghost over my arms, and I can't suppress the shiver of revulsion that courses through me "Boyd, don't," I rasp out, but my plea seems only to embolden him

"Come now, Cleo, we're going to be husband and wife. Might as well get comfortable with each other." There's a dark promise in his voice, making my skin crawl

I bite back a scream when he leans in, his lips puckering for a kiss I'd rather die than receive

At the last moment, he pulls away, a cruel smirk playing on his lips

"Please," I whisper, barely recognizing my own

voice, laced with a fear so potent it tastes like bileExclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

"Please? Such manners, but no need to beg." His hand moves swiftly, tearing at the fabric of my dress my father rummaged for back at the safehouse, the sound of ripping seams echoing ominously in the room

Adrenaline spikes through my veins, and instinctively, my hand shoots out to the vase still teetering on the edge of the stand. With a swift motion, I grasp it and bring it crashing down onto his head. The porcelain shatters, shards flying like deadly confetti as Boyd staggers back, hissing in pain. A thin line of blood trickles down from a gash on his face, marring his arrogant features

"Damn you!" he snarls, fury igniting in his eyes

In retaliation, he slashes out with his claws, and I'm too slow to evade. Agony sears across my cheek as his nails rake deep furrows into my flesh. Blood, warm and wet, slides down my face when his fist connects with the side of my head. My ears ring loudly, and the ground is suddenly rushing toward my face

"Boyd!" I cry out in pain, clutching at my wounded face, feeling the sticky warmth pooling in my hands and on the floor. "You are a monster! How could you do that?" I snap at him. I press my fingers to my face, the wounds not healing, the gashes deep as blood gets in my eyes and mouth

"Because I can," he sneers, the malice in his tone chilling me to the core. "And because soon, you'll have no choice but to accept it."

His words hang heavy in the air, a suffocating

blanket of despair. But beneath the fear and the pain, I feel a flicker, I feel Zarek press against the bond, and his rage slivers through me, so when Boyd reaches for me again, I fight back, no matter how futile it 1s