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"You will not fight me," he said, his face only inches from her own. "You will accept me as your mate without argument. If you shame me in front of my pack, you will regret it many times before this night is over. Do you understand me?" When she didn't answer, he shook her so hard her teeth rattled. "Do you understand?"
She glared at him, but wisely nodded.
Vasile glanced out the window. "The pack is gathering." He shoved her toward the bedroom. "Go clean yourself up, and change your clothes. You will find a dress in the bedroom. And don't bother trying to escape. One of my men is standing outside the window."
With a curt nod, Regan went into the other room and closed the door. She stood there a minute, then went into the bathroom. She didn't bother to lock the door. If she refused to come out, Vasile would just break it down.
After a moment, she went to the sink and looked at her face in the mirror.
What could not be changed must be endured.
That which does not break us can only make us stronger.
"This is no time for platitudes," she muttered. "I need an escape plan." She laughed humorlessly. There was no way to escape. She was surrounded by werewolves.
She washed her hands and face, brushed the dirt and leaves off her clothing as best she could, finger combed her hair, and all the while, she thought of the beautiful wedding dress hanging in her closet. She would never wear it now.
After returning to the bedroom, she changed into the dress lying on the bed. She didn't bother looking in the mirror. What difference did it make how she looked?
She blinked back her tears, wishing that she and Joaquin had made love, that she had given her virginity to the man she loved instead of having it taken, by force, by a monster. All that waiting and all those cold showers for nothing, she thought. She had intended her virginity to be a gift for her husband. Instead, it would be taken violently as an act of vengeance.
She wondered where Santiago was, if Michael was all right, and if she would ever see her home or her family again.
She blinked back her tears when she heard Vasile's voice outside the bedroom door.
"It's time," he said.
Determined to hang on to her dignity as best she took, Regan took a deep, calming breath, opened the door, and with her head held high, went out to meet her fate.
She wondered if Vasile could hear the nervous pounding of her heart as he led her outside. She felt a sudden sense of embarrassment that she was about to be married in a hand-me-down dress, and then wondered why she cared. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to marry Vasile. She didn't know any of the people who had gathered to watch her being forced into a marriage she didn't want.
Vasile came to a stop and the pack surrounded the two of them in a loose circle.
Regan's heart pounded slow and heavy in her breast. This was it. There was no escape.
Zina stood on Vasile's other side. She could feel the woman's hatred rolling over her like thick black smoke.
Vasile lifted his hand and the crowd fell silent. "This woman is mine," he said in a loud voice. "I have made her a member of the pack, and I now declare that she is my mate and that you will treat her as such from this night forward." He turned his gaze on Regan. "From this night forward, you will be my mate. I promise you my protection and my allegiance."
Regan stared at him. Up until this moment, she had secretly hoped for some last-minute miracle. She knew now that her hopes had been in vain.
"Repeat after me," Vasile said. "From this night forward, you will be my mate."
"From this night forward, you will be my mate."
"I swear to you my loyalty and my devotion."
She spoke the words slowly, feeling as if they were being torn from her throat.
"It is done," Vasile said, and taking her by the hand, he led her back to his house and into the bedroom.
With a leer, he closed the door, then pushed her down on the bed.
"You are mine now," he said.
Regan slared at him defiantly. "Do what you will, say what you will, I will never be yours."
"Willing or not, you will be mine this night." And so saying, he ripped the dress off her body, then stripped away her underwear, his eyes hot as they moved over her. With his gaze riveted on her face, he stood beside the bed and removed his shirt, revealing a chest covered with a mat of thick blond hair.
Regan glared at him. She couldn't do this. She couldn't just lie there and let him rape her without putting up a fight.
She waited until he sat down to remove his shoes and then she bolted off the bed and headed for the door.
Her hand was on the knob when he grabbed a fistful of her hair and gave it a sharp yank. She cried out in pain as she stumbled backward. Snarling at her, he shoved her down on the bed and fell on top of her, his mouth covering hers, his body pinning hers to the mattress.
She writhed beneath him, her nails raking his cheek. He struck her across the face. She bit his shoulder and his cheek.
It was a violent, bitter struggle. Regan was certain he was going to kill her when, suddenly, his body went limp.
Peering over his shoulder, Regan saw the woman, Zina, standing beside the bed, a club in her hand.
"He's mine," Zina said.
"You can have him, and welcome," Regan muttered. "Just get him off of me."
Zina shook her head. "I don't want him. I just want to kill him."
"No!" Regan wriggled underneath Vasile's limp form. "No." She couldn't let anyone else kill Vasile. It was something she had to do herself.
Zina stared at her, obviously confused. "Would you rather have him alive?"
"No, I want him dead! But I want to do it myself."
Zina nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this." She placed her hand over her stomach. "Not for me," she said, withdrawing a gun from the pocket of her skirt, "but for my baby."
Before Regan could protest, before Zina could fire the gun, Vasile rolled off Regan. With a roar of outrage and betrayal, he shifted. When Regan tried to get out of his way, his jaws closed over her neck. Flinging his head to the side, he threw her off the bed as if she weighed no more than a small child. Blood sprayed from her throat, splattering over the blankets, the ceiling, and the wall.
Regan landed on her back, hard, and lay there, too stunned to move. She could feel the blood flowing over her shoulder and down her arm. So much blood… She knew instinctively that it was a killing wound, but somehow it didn't seem to matter.
Growling low in his throat, the wolf turned on Zina.
