Chapter 8 - Mia

Evan never did come back into the room after he stormed off. I've been up all night, waiting, dreading what will happen when the sun rises. I've gone through every scenario in my mind. Every possible way this day could play out, and they all end with me being someone's property.

I'm not stupid. I know there's no way Evan is keeping me here because he likes my personality. There's no chance that he wants me around for my sparkling conversation or my sunny disposition.

Whatever he has planned, it's not good. I just wish I had more information. The not knowing is almost worse than the actuality of the situation. At least when something happens, there's no anticipation. No wondering, no agonizing. You just have to take it, deal with it, and move on.

I have no idea what time it is since there isn't a clock in this room. My cell phone is back in Stardust Hollow in the woods somewhere; I dropped it during my scuffle with Rafe. The sun hasn't been up for long, so I have to assume it's still morning. No one has come to check on me, and there are no sounds of movement from the other rooms. I guess I'm the only one up.

At least, that's what I think until the door swings open so hard, the doorknob leaves a dent in the wall. Shawna storms in with a scowl on her face, followed by a young girl who doesn't look much older than sixteen or seventeen. I'm sure she's pissed at me that I almost got away yesterday when she was supposed to be watching me. She's going to make sure I'm not going anywhere today.

She's got the girl carrying a basket full of toiletries and a pile of clothes. Shawna doesn't say anything, but she glares at me like it's my fault she's awake at this ungodly hour. The younger girl looks nervous. Her gaze flits around the room like she's looking for a way out. I get the sense that she doesn't want to be here.

I stand up slowly and offer the girl a friendly smile, but she doesn't return it. Instead, she looks at Shawna, who is staring me down like she wants to murder me.

"Get in the shower. You have ten minutes," Shawna barks at me, pointing a finger at the bathroom across the hall. "And don't even think about trying anything. There's two of us and one of you. This time, the silver stays on. Do you understand?"

I nod, not bothering to respond verbally. It doesn't matter what I say. I'm a prisoner, I don't have a choice.

I walk across the hall and close the door behind me. There's no lock. No privacy. I can hear them whispering, and I wonder what they're saying about me. I can't make out their exact words, but it's not hard to guess the gist of it.

If the lack of decorations and sparse furniture wasn't enough of an indication that this cabin is lived in by a single man, the bathroom certainly is. The walls are made of dark wood paneling, the floor is white tile, and the fixtures are stainless steel. A single bar of soap along with a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste rests on the sink. There are no shelves or a cabinet for storage. I guess this werewolf doesn't need much in the way of products.

The shower is the most inviting part of the room. It's a small space with a glass door and a showerhead. A metal shelf holds a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of conditioner, a bar of soap, and a washcloth. I step inside and close the door, turning the water on and letting the heat soothe my sore muscles.

My eyes fall closed, and I let out a deep breath. For a moment, I can pretend I'm not alone in this world and nothing is wrong. That I'm back home, and everything is as it should be. But of course, I can't stay here forever, so after a few minutes, I get to work. I lather the shampoo in my hair, letting the hot water rinse it clean, and then do the same with the conditioner. I'm not about to use a strange man's soap, so I just use my fingers to scrub away at my skin. It's not ideal, but it's better than nothing.

I hear a tap on the door, and I turn the water off.

"Time's up," Shawna says, pushing the door open.

I don't have a towel or anything to cover myself, so I just stand there, dripping wet as the cold air hits my skin. The teenager who came in with Shawna earlier stands just outside the door, looking anywhere but inside.

Shawna doesn't seem bothered by my nakedness. She just hands me a fluffy white towel, and I wrap it around myself, grateful for the small modicum of privacy it offers.

Shawna takes the basket from the girl and holds it out to me. "Put this dress on."

"Can you at least give me some privacy?" I ask, and she gives me a blank stare.

"You're a wolf. We're naked every time we shift. Get dressed. Now."

When I don't take it, she walks back into the bedroom and tosses the dress on the bed. It's only now that it's not folded up that I get a good look at it. It's white and flowy, with an empire waist, thin straps, and lace appliqués on the top. The bottom half is full and long but not poofy, with a small train in the back. It's beautiful, but why the hell is she giving me a wedding dress to put on?

"What the fuck is this?" I ask, holding the dress up in front of my body.

"What do you think it is?" Shawna snaps like I'm an idiot.

"Is this a joke?"

It has to be, right? There's no way Evan wants me to marry one of his wolves. No, he's trying to get a rise out of me. Trying to scare me. He wants to flaunt me around his pack and show off his catch. At least, I hope to God that's what's happening and not the other option. There's no way in hell I'm marrying one of his buddies. Not happening.

"Look, you either put it on yourself, or Nina and I will put it on for you," Shawna threatens, and the girl beside her winces.

Nina. So that's her name.

I'm not sure if she would really force me or if it's an empty threat, but I don't want to find out. I'm not exactly in a position to fight back since I can't shift and she can. Even if I was, there's no guarantee I'd win. She looks like a fighter; I'm not. It's best not to pick battles you're going to lose.

So, I pull the dress over my head and let the fabric fall down my body. Shawna comes at me with a hairbrush and a spray bottle, and I swat her away.

"Don't touch me," I hiss.

She gives me a look that could kill, but she takes a step back, holding the brush out for me. "Do it yourself, then."

I take the brush and run it through my tangled locks. I've never been the kind of girl who spent a lot of time getting ready. I like the natural look, the kind that requires no effort or thought. I've never worn much makeup. I always figured that if someone can't accept me as I am, then they don't deserve me. So, I'm not exactly used to doing my hair and putting on a fancy dress, but I do the best I can, and that will have to be good enough.

When I'm done with my hair, I start with the makeup that's in the basket. There's mascara and a red lipstick. I've never been one to wear the latter, but it's the only shade available, so I put it on.

I look different. Older and a little bit sexier. It's not a bad look, I guess. But it's not me. Not the real me.

Shawna takes the basket when I'm done with the supplies, and Nina starts putting jewelry on me. It's a simple gold necklace with a pendant that has a wolf engraved on it. When I look closely, I see an "E" carved in the gold. It's subtle, but I'm sure it's a symbol. A message.

"I'm not a fucking trinket," I tell Shawna.

She doesn't answer. Instead, she picks up a pair of heels and shoves them into my hands. I slip my feet inside, and Nina secures the clasps. Shawna grabs my arm and leads me out the door. I don't bother trying to pull away. There's no point.

When we get outside, there's a whole ceremony set up and waiting. A wooden archway decorated with ivy and baby's breath stands in the middle of the field. A dozen chairs are arranged around it, with people dressed in black suits and dresses like they're headed to a funeral. There's an old woman standing beneath the archway with a Bible in her hands. Evan is standing next to her.

Okay, this isn't funny anymore. I'm not laughing. Evan's little joke has gone too far. I'm not marrying anyone today. This is not okay. I'm not sure if this is a sick prank or some weird, twisted tradition with his pack, but it's not happening.

I dig my heels in, literally. The soil gives way under the pressure, helping me as I resist Shawna's attempts to drag me toward the altar.

"No!" I yell, my voice coming out shaky and desperate. "Stop! Stop it!"

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be, " she says, and the sympathy in her voice almost has me fooled. But I know better.

"Fuck you. Fuck all of you. Let me go. Now."

"We can't do that," she says. "Just cooperate, and everything will be fine."

"No! Take this off," I plead, pulling at the dress. "I'm not doing this. It's not right."

Evan starts walking in our direction, his eyes hard and his lips drawn in a tight line. He doesn't look pleased.

"Let's go. Now," he barks, glaring at Shawna.

She pulls on my arm, trying to make me move, but I keep resisting. Evan gets closer, and without warning, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me toward the altar.

"Put me down," I say, pounding on his chest.

He doesn't say a word. He doesn't even look at me. He just keeps walking, his face void of emotion. The guests rise to their feet as we approach, and Evan sets me down, wrapping his hand around my upper arm. When he places me back on my feet, I glance around, frantically looking to find the groom. Which of his sadistic little friends would be cruel enough to go along with this little game?

I'm still searching for answers when the elderly woman begins to speak.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two souls together," she says, her voice low and gravelly.

This isn't happening. It can't be. What is wrong with Evan? What kind of person forces someone into a marriage?

"Please, stop," I beg. "I'm begging you. I can't do this."

Evan gives the woman a curt nod, but he still doesn't look at me. She begins to read a passage from the Bible, and Evan turns to me, lifting my veil over my head and tucking it behind me. He places his hands on my shoulders and squeezes lightly.

Holy shit. I'm not marrying one of his men.

I'm marrying him.

"Do you, Mia Oliver, take Evan Woods to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?"

My heart is racing. I can't breathe. There's no way this is happening. I have to wake up. This can't be real.

I don't answer. I can't. And she doesn't seem to care that I don't. She just keeps going.

"And do you, Evan Woods, take Mia Oliver to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?" she asks, looking at him.

"I do," he replies without a trace of emotion in her voice.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife," she says.

Evan wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into him, and brings his mouth down on mine. When he kisses me, I freeze, but the gathered shifters cheer and hoot. They're happy. Excited. Like this is a joyous occasion.

It's not. Not for me.

The kiss ends, and Evan lifts me into the air, cradling me against his chest, and I bury my face in his neck. I don't want them to see me. To see the pain, the humiliation. I close my eyes, and tears start streaming down my cheeks. This can't be real. It just can't.

He carries me back to the cabin and into the bedroom. Then, he lays me on the bed and closes the door. I can hear the lock turning, and a fresh wave of tears streams down my face. I feel so helpless. So alone.

"Why?" I ask. "Why did you do that? Why did you do this to me?"