Chapter 9 - Evan

From the way Mia's looking at me, I know she's assuming the worst. I can see it in her eyes. She's afraid. I'm sure she's running the absolute worst possible scenarios in her head about what I'm about to do to her. I did just force her into a marriage, after all. She has no idea how bad I'm feeling about this.

At least the curse is almost broken. One more small step, and it won't be hanging over our heads. That's a small victory, I guess.

"Don't touch me," she hisses, pressing her back against the wall farther away from me. "Just stay the hell away from me. Don't fucking touch me."

Her eyes are wet and glistening, and her lips are trembling. Her whole body is shaking. I've never been more disgusted with myself in my life.

"It's okay. Calm down. Everything is fine," I try to assure her, but my words aren't convincing, even to my own ears.

"Don't. Just don't."

"Mia, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You already have," she spits, her words dripping with venom.

I don't know what to say. I'm at a loss. She's right. I did hurt her by forcing her to marry me. But I'm not sorry for it. Not really. Sure, I wish it could've happened another way, but it's not like I had a choice. If I did, she wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be having this conversation.

But there's no use trying to explain it to her. It won't make her feel any better. It won't undo what's been done. Nothing can. All I can do is make the best of a bad situation.

"You'll get used to it. You'll see."

"Used to what? Being a prisoner? Because that's exactly what I am."

"You're my wife. We're married. You belong to me now," I explain.

"Belong to you? I don't belong to anyone."

"Actually, you do. You're my mate." I sit on the edge of the bed and start removing my shoes. I'm exhausted. It's been a long day, and I didn't get a wink of sleep last night. Judging by the large circles under Mia's eyes, neither did she.

"I'm not your anything," she snarls.

I let out a tired sigh. "Whatever you need to tell yourself. Come over here, please. We're both tired, and I want to go to sleep."

"I'm not getting into bed with you. I'd rather sleep on the floor."

Never, not once in my life, have I ever had to convince a woman to get into bed with me. Hell, I've never even had to try to seduce a female before. Usually, it's the other way around. Women are always throwing themselves at me, and I'm too busy fighting them off. Yet, here I am, trying to get my new wife to get in the damn bed so we can get some damn sleep.

If I didn't have to chain the girl up, I would just let her have her way and sleep on the floor. But I have to keep her close, which means I have to keep her in bed. With me.

I stand up and rummage through the nightstand, looking for the pair of handcuffs I keep in there. On any other occasion, their function would be purely recreational. In this case, however, their purpose is more practical.

"Come on, let's get this over with," I urge.

She looks at the handcuffs and shakes her head.

"No. I'm not going to let you put those on me."

"They're a lot more comfortable than those silver cuffs you're wearing, I can promise you that. Plus, I only need to latch one arm to the bedpost."

"Am I supposed to be grateful or something?" she asks with a snort.

"Mia, I know this is not what you wanted, and you're angry. Believe me, I'm not exactly thrilled, either. But you're stuck with me. So, we have two options. Option A: I can knock you unconscious, and you'll wake up tomorrow morning with a hell of a headache. Option B: You can cooperate, and this can go a lot easier for both of us. What's it gonna be?"

Okay, I wouldn't actually hit her. I'm not that kind of guy. I mean, yeah, I'm rough around the edges, and I've been known to be a bit violent. But I've never hurt a woman. Never raised a hand to one, and I'm not about to start now. But she doesn't know that, and she doesn't need to.

She glares at me, and for a second, I think she's going to refuse. I'm not sure what I'll do if she does. I've already had a rough day, and I'm not up for playing games. To emphasize my point, I hold up the cuffs and rattle them.

"Fine," she groans. "But do I have to sleep in this stupid dress? It's uncomfortable, and it makes me look like a damn cupcake."

A small smile forms on my lips as I think about the last time I ate a cupcake. "Sure. You can strip down, if you'd rather. I don't have anything else for you to wear until Shawna brings some clothes over, and I've told them not to disturb us tonight. But we'll get you some stuff tomorrow."

Her face turns bright red. I guess that wasn't the answer she was expecting. She opens her mouth to say something, but she doesn't say a word. Instead, she turns her back to me and slips the dress off. It drops to the floor, pooling at her feet. She steps out of it and kicks it toward the closet. Then, she turns back around and gives me a challenging look. She's in nothing but a bra and panties.

It's a struggle to keep my eyes locked on hers. She's so gorgeous. It's hard not to let my gaze wander down her body. In fact, I'm not at all confident that I will be able to stop myself if she bumps up against me, and again, I have no interest in forcing her into being intimate.

I walk over to my dresser and pull out a T-shirt. "Here," I say, tossing it to her. "Put this on."

"Thought you said you didn't have anything else?"

"I meant I didn't have any women's clothes," I clarify. "This will have to do."

She grabs the shirt and pulls it over her head. She's swimming in it, but at least she's not completely naked. Not that I would mind her being naked. It's just that I'd rather not have the temptation lying right next to me all night.

I walk back over to the bed and pick up the cuffs. "Give me your wrists," I instruct.

She doesn't hesitate. She holds out her hands and lets me remove the silver cuffs that are already there to prevent her from shifting. Then, I fasten the leather cuff around her left wrist and attach it to the bedpost. It's not going to be the most comfortable, but it shouldn't limit her movement all that much. It's tight enough so that even if she does shift, she's not going anywhere.

"What now?" she asks, glaring at me.

"Now, we sleep. I'm tired."

I lie down, careful not to get too close to her, and close my eyes. The mattress dips beside me as she lies down, and I feel her body heat next to mine. It's her smell, though, that is the most distracting. It's sweet and feminine, and it drives me crazy. My inner wolf stirs, and I feel my cock growing hard.

She smells like the perfect blend of summer rain and honeysuckle, and the scent is driving me mad. It takes every ounce of restraint that I have not to turn over and fuck her right then and there. But I refuse to give in. Even though it would be easy, and I could make her enjoy it, I don't want our first time together to be like that. When we consummate the marriage, it will be because she wants me as much as I want her.

I roll onto my side, facing away from her, and try to focus on anything else. Fortunately, I'm so damn tired that I have no trouble drifting off, and soon, the dreams come.

The forest is ablaze. Fire licks the trees, and the air is thick with smoke. I'm running, trying to get to the river, but I can't find it. It's like the water just disappeared. All around me, people are screaming, crying out for help, but no one comes.

I've had this same dream so many times. I know it so well. I can even tell you the exact moment when the ground starts shaking and the trees fall. This time, when the first one comes down, it lands right on top of a little girl. She cries out, and her mother runs to her. She tries to pull her free, but the tree won't move.

Suddenly, the ground opens up, and the earth swallows the girl whole. Her screams are muffled as the hole fills in, and her mother collapses to the ground, weeping.

This is the part of the dream that scares the shit out of me. Because I know that little girl. She's a pup that belongs to my pack. Every person in this dream is a member of my pack.

Time has run out. The curse has come for us. We are doomed.

There's a scream to my right, and I see a man on fire, rolling on the ground, trying desperately to put out the flames. Rafe rushes over to him, but instead of helping him, he shifts and bites his neck, killing him instantly.

"Evan!" he shouts, but before he can say anything else, a tree branch falls on top of him. Rafe lies lifeless, pinned under the fallen branch.

The scene is so familiar, but this time, there's a woman lingering in the background, just on the edge of the forest. She's wearing a long, flowing white gown, and her blond hair hangs down her back in long, loose curls. Her green eyes are glowing, and there's a small smile on her red lips. She's watching. Waiting.

Mia.

As she stares at me, the ground begins to shake. The trees sway back and forth, creaking and cracking. She lifts her arms, and the wind whips through her hair just before she turns around and disappears into the woods. I take a step toward her, but a wall of fire springs up in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. There's a flash of white behind the flames, and then she's gone.

I can actually feel the heat from the fire. It burns my skin and singes my hair. The pain is excruciating, but I have to follow her. I have to get to her.

I'm about to shift and run through the fire when a hand grabs my shoulder and yanks me backward. When I whirl around, Shawna is there. Half her face is burned, and her eyes are filled with pain and terror.

"Help me, Evan," she pleads. "You have to save me. You have to help me. Please. Help me."

Her hand falls away, and she drops to the ground. Behind her, Guy is on his knees, clutching his chest. Blood is streaming from a wound between his ribs, and he's struggling to breathe. His skin is turning blue, and his lips are a pale shade of gray.

"You failed us, alpha," he croaks. "You failed your pack."

His eyes are full of hate as he glares at me. It's not just hatred that I see, though. It's disgust. He's disgusted by me. He blames me for this.

And then, he collapses. His eyes are open, but they're not seeing. They're staring straight at me, but they're blank and lifeless.

Guy's dead.

Something grabs hold of my neck, and I feel a sharp sting. I look down, and there's a sandy-colored wolf on all fours, its claws digging at my throat. Blood runs down my chest and seeps through my shirt. I reach up and wrap my hand around its paw, squeezing, but what strikes me most is how real it feels.

My eyes snap open, and I realize I'm no longer dreaming. It's not the wolf in my nightmare that's attacking me.

It's Mia.