Taming My Beast Mate

A year ago, Selina collapsed into Kyle's arms, bloodied and sobbing, crying that Ella had pushed her down the stairs.

Kyle didn't even give Ella a chance to explain. He was fed up with her attitude—proud, possessive, never willing to back down. As the Alpha of the Black Wolf pack, he wanted a compliant wife, not some volatile woman who always picked fights with him.

In his rage, he signed those damned papers with his own hand, sending a tearful, pleading Ella to the notorious "Shifter Correction Facility"—a place that made people's blood run cold.

"When you learn to behave, you can come home," he had told her.

A year later, the facility called him to pick her up. He expected to see his wife return broken and sorry, begging for forgiveness.

But the Shifter Correction Facility doesn't teach people to behave.

They break them. Completely.

Ella's POV

"Lord Kyle, your mate has completed the highest level of purification training. From today forward, she is your perfect little toy."

The reception room at the correction facility was blindingly white. The director in his white coat pushed a stack of papers across the table toward me.

I lounged back in the sofa, fingers drumming against the armrest. I instinctively hated places like this, but I was in a pretty good mood today. A whole year—and that crazy little bitch Ella was finally coming back, ready to behave.

"Did she break?" I raised an eyebrow.

"That's not how 07's brain works anymore." The director clapped his hands. "Bring out Subject 07."

The metal doors opened. I straightened up.

The woman who walked out wore gray prison clothes, barefoot on the cold floor. Her fiery red hair had been chopped short, fox ears drooping.

It was Ella. But it wasn't.

I frowned. The old Ella's eyes would light up like wildfire the moment she saw me—either burning with love or blazing with fury. She'd charge at me, ready to fight. She'd leave bite marks on my neck. That sweet, musky fox scent of hers always made my head spin.

This woman was quiet as the dead.

She stopped exactly three feet in front of me, then dropped to her knees. Perfect posture, spine straight, chin tilted up in a smile.

"Subject 07 reporting to Master. Tell me what to do."

Her voice sounded completely flat.

I stared, a sick feeling creeping into my gut. I stood up and walked over to her.

"Ella, what the FUCK are you doing?" I growled, searching her eyes for something familiar.

Nothing. Those eyes that used to glow like amber were now empty black holes.

"Master, the name 'Ella' doesn't work anymore. I'm 07 now. Want me to call myself something else?"

Rage flared in me. I grabbed her by the collar and yanked her to her feet. "Cut the bullshit! You think playing pathetic will make me go soft? Where was all this obedience when you pushed Selina down those stairs?"

I threw Selina's name at her on purpose. That name used to make her explode instantly—she'd scream "I didn't FUCKING push her!"

Instead, Ella just steadied herself, fox ears twitching once.

"Selina... yes. I won't hurt Selina. Ever. Thanks for reminding me, Master."

She looked at me with that same dead calm.

My grip loosened. She stepped back and clasped her hands.

"It seems Lord Kyle is quite pleased with our results." The director beamed beside us. "Subject 07 has had all aggression and excess self-awareness removed. She's a blank slate now, existing entirely for your will."

"Pleased..." I muttered, that sick feeling growing stronger. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? An obedient wife who wouldn't cause trouble, wouldn't go insane with jealousy. I should be happy.

"Let's go. We're going home." I turned and headed for the door.

"Okay. Following you now."

Footsteps behind me. I didn't turn around, but I knew she was there, maintaining that goddamn distance.

In the car, I cranked up the heat. Ella used to hate the cold—she'd climb into my lap the second she got in, wrapping that fluffy tail around me and refusing to let go.

I waited for her to pounce. Nothing.

I opened my eyes. Ella sat perfectly upright in the passenger seat, hands on her knees, staring straight ahead. No sign of moving closer.

"Why are you sitting way over there?" I finally snapped.

She immediately turned to me with that standard smile. "Master hasn't said I could come closer. I can't move without orders."

"Fine. I'm telling you to come here now." I spoke through gritted teeth.

"Yes, Master."

She climbed stiffly onto my lap.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, trying to find that old feeling. But all I felt was cold fabric and an unresponsive body.

"You're shaking." I noticed the tremor in her legs.

"Just my body doing that. Won't stop me from following orders. Want me to make it stop?" She kept smiling, like she was discussing someone else's body.

Nausea hit me like a punch to the throat. I shoved her away.

"Get back over there!"

"Right away." She returned to the passenger seat immediately, sitting ramrod straight as if nothing had happened.

The car fell into terrible silence. I stared ahead, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

It was no big deal. She just got back—she needed time to adjust. I kept telling myself that. In a few days she'd understand that as long as she behaved, I'd still treat her well.

That lively, spirited Ella would come back.

She had to.