Page 2 of Alpha’s Wife

I know in my bones this is him, this is the one. Not because he announces it, but because the air around him seems to vibrate as though it knows who is in charge. He isn’t what I expected, though. Whenever we talk about rogue shifters, we imagine feral, half-wild men, the kind of monster the old witches used to tell stories about to scare us. This man is very different. He’s tall, with broad shoulders, dark hair that is slightly long and pushed back. His face is strangely calm and unhurried. There’s a stillness to him that screams danger.

Unfortunately, it also screams…hot.

No. Absolutely not.

I am not going to stand here, kidnapped and vulnerable, thinking this man is attractive. I have standards. I have self-respect. It doesn’t matter that he’s a mountain of a man and the set of his jaw is, for some reason, inexplicably interesting to my treacherous body. I do not find him good-looking, because I don’t have Stockholm syndrome after only two nights. No.

The matter is closed, I tell myself, trying to look nonchalant on the couch.

He watches me carefully for a moment, and the longer the quiet stretches on, the more I realize that he’s surprised about something. He glances around the room, taking in my stack of books, the made bed, the breakfast, and finally, his gaze sweeps up my body and lands on his face. He lifts a brow, just slightly.

“You seem settled,” he says, voice low and even. “You’re not even crying.”

“Was I supposed to cry?” I ask.

“Figured most would in your situation,” he replies, casually.

“And what situation is that?” I say, tilting my chin, tucking my hands so he can’t see them shake. “Sorry to disappoint, though. Perhaps I can muster a sob, if it helps.”

And then he surprises me. The corner of his mouth twitches. It’s not exactly a smile, more like the darker relation of one, but for the briefest second, he looks almost pleased. As if the fact that the woman he kidnapped being smart-mouthed isn’t a bad thing. Wouldn’t he want me meek and broken? Instead, he looks quietly satisfied. Almost like he doesn’t want me frightened, which makes no sense to me at all. None of this makes any sense to me.

“Who are you?” I ask, mainly to force myself to stop staring at his mouth.

“Ronan,” he replies, no hesitation, almost as though it’s something everyone should already know.

The name triggers something. Mainly remembered gossip, stories traded that were mostly exaggerations, but probably with some truth buried deep. A rogue alpha and his brother building something big by the coast. I’m sure one of the brothers was called Ronan. I never paid enough attention to rumors, which I’m cursing myself for now, because if I had, I might have more to go on.

“Well, Ronan,” I say, gesturing to the room. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to get me here, and keep me here. So let’s skip ahead to the part where you tell me what you want, and I tell you to get lost. We both know what I am.”

Something sharpens behind his eyes. “Oh yeah, and what are you?”

I hesitate for a moment, doubting myself for raising it, but then I see the glint in his eye and carry on despite the fact that he holds my gaze, not moving an inch. “The answer to whatever you couldn’t take by force. You’re just another overly ambitious alpha looking for a shortcut. You’ve put me here surrounded by comforts because you want me calm. You don’t want me to fight, do you?”

He doesn’t deny it, but he doesn’t confirm anything, either. He just lets the silence linger and looks vaguely satisfied again, which also has the annoying effect of making him look even more attractive.

“You’ll be useful to me,” he says at last, his voice steady, without a hint of the obvious cruelty that his life involves. “That’s true. But you’re also not in danger, not from me or anyone else here. And I do want you to be comfortable; this isn’t a punishment. You have my word.”

I laugh; I can’t help it. “Forgive me if the word of the man who drugged and kidnapped me isn’t worth very much.”

“It’s worth more than you think,” he replies smoothly.

“People who have to insist their word is worth something are usually the least worthy,” I push back, because I want to see a flicker of the monster I was promised from all those stories growing up. “Maybe you just like stealing women because that’s the only way you can get them to talk to you.”

We both know that’s a bald-faced lie, but I refuse to give in to the blush that’s threatening to creep up my cheeks.

He doesn’t rise to it, not even a fraction. He just looks at me with that steady stillness. He’s in complete control of the room, and I get the deeply infuriating feeling that I could throw anything at him and he’d just absorb it. Beneath his layers of control, I sense he’s slightly amused, and that’s even more annoying.

“You can hate me as much as you like; it doesn’t change a thing,” he says. “You’ll be safe here. Read your books, feel free to ask for any particular food, and I’ll check in on you soon. For now, just wait.”

“Wait for what, exactly?” I ask.

He’s already turning away, but pauses at the door before throwing another of those almost-smiles at me and leaving. He locks the door, the wards flare, and I’m left with my books, the fire, and the remnants of my breakfast. Unfortunately, I’ve lost my appetite.

I stand there watching the door, thinking about the man who walked through it. I was expecting a monster—and although I know monsters wear many masks, he’s not the comic book rogue alpha I was brought up to expect.

And that threw me a little. But it won’t next time.

Chapter 2 - Ronan