Chapter 7: Did she love him that much?

Drax's POV

My contract wife was burning up, her cheeks flushed crimson, thighs pressed tightly together.

It was obvious—she'd entered her heat.

She was beautiful, with a straight, delicate nose, deep-set eyes, and lashes that fluttered like butterfly wings.

Her lips reminded me of summer cherries, and those emerald eyes were flooded with desire.

She was craving me.

Yet beneath that hunger, fear and resistance flickered across her face.

I knew exactly what terrified her—the bond mark on her neck, and that irritating scent of another male clinging to her skin.

Another alpha had bonded her, and recently too.

She was worried I'd discover she wasn't the real Cynthia, that she was an imposter.

But she needn't have bothered with that particular concern.

From the moment she stepped into her biological father Brandon's manor, my men had already dug up her files and delivered them to me.

Lyra, aged 25, a graduate of the Department of Law at Ashford University.

She could have been a brilliant lawyer, yet she ended up stuck at home as a housewife.

Only to resurface now, taking Cynthia's place in this arranged marriage.

Initially, I'd been furious.

No one dared to deceive me.

But the moment I walked through that door and laid eyes on her, I reconsidered.

She was like a clever little fox, cunning and sharp.

Those green eyes didn't hold the desperate pleading they showed now—back then, they'd been clear, calculating.

She feared me, yet she was determined to survive.

She was rather pitiful, actually, and my anger had begun to dissipate, replaced by something closer to intrigue.

Perhaps toying with this unfortunate she-wolf could add some entertainment to my tedious existence.

I moved closer, catching the intense sweetness of her scent—peach, ripe and intoxicating.

My wolf, Cis, paced restlessly inside me, his desire bleeding into mine.

"I like her," he growled. "Claim her."

My fingertips traced the curve of her cheek, then down to her collarbone, and finally settled on her breast.

A soft moan escaped her lips, barely audible.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, struggling to maintain control.

"Your scent is everywhere," I murmured.

"Are you trying to seduce me, or is this just how you welcome your new husband?"

Embarrassment colored her features, tears pooling in her eyes even as irritation sharpened her voice.

"My scent is just unstable!"

Still lying.

I leaned in, my breath warming her flushed cheek as I pressed light kisses along her collarbone, letting my teeth graze her skin just enough to make her shiver.

My hand traveled down her body, cupping her breast, kneading the soft flesh before rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

Another moan, louder this time.

I could feel her rationality crumbling.

She tried to push me away but lacked the strength, and something unfamiliar stirred in my chest—a possessiveness I hadn't anticipated, growing wild and insistent.

"Tell me what you want," I commanded softly, my lips brushing against her ear.

"I... I don't..." she stammered.

"Liar."

I nipped at her earlobe.

"Your body's already answered for you."

I slid my hand beneath her dress.

She was soaked.

My fingers found her clit, circling it with deliberate slowness, and she trembled in my arms.

My cock was straining against my pants, but I wasn't about to rush this.

I continued teasing her breasts while my other hand worked between her thighs.

She was exquisitely sensitive—each touch made her unconsciously grind against my hand, seeking more friction.

I watched her with dark amusement, enjoying the way she fought against her own desire.

"You want more, don't you?" I whispered against her neck.

"Say it."

She clenched her jaw, refusing to give me the satisfaction.

Fine. I could play this game.

I withdrew my hand and repositioned her, bending her over my lap and pulling down her underwear.

My palm came down hard against her ass, the sharp crack echoing in the room.

"When I ask you a question," I said, my voice edged with authority, "I expect an answer."

Her breath hitched, and I could smell the spike in her arousal.

I spanked her again, harder this time, watching the way her body tensed and then melted.

"Do you want me to touch you?" I asked, my hand smoothing over the reddened skin.

"Yes," she finally whispered.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... please."

"Good girl."

I rewarded her by sliding two fingers inside her, pumping into that wet, yielding heat.

She began making small, broken sounds, her body shaking with pleasure, toes curling against the sheets.

Just as she approached the edge, I withdrew my fingers completely.

She turned to glare at me over her shoulder, those beautiful eyes brimming with tears and indignation.

"Why did you—"

"Use your words," I interrupted.

"Tell me exactly what you want."

For a long moment, she just stared at me, warring with herself.

Then, as if reaching some internal decision, she abandoned her hesitation and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling herself up to press against me.

"I want you," she breathed against my lips.

"I want you inside me. Now."

The raw demand in her voice sent a surge of heat through me.

"That's better," I murmured, claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss.

She was far more interesting than Cynthia could ever be.

I positioned her on the bed, making her present that gorgeous ass to me on all fours.

I freed my cock and drove deep inside her in one smooth thrust.

A low groan rumbled from my chest.

I gathered her golden hair in my fist, using it to pull her back against me as I set a punishing rhythm.

Her moans grew louder, more abandoned.

I realized then that I enjoyed this—controlling her, teasing her, watching her unravel completely.

But I deliberately slowed my pace, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in with agonizing slowness.

She began to squirm with frustration, caught in that unbearable space between pleasure and fulfillment.

"Drax... please..." she whimpered, trying to push back against me.

I held her hips firmly in place.

"Please what?"

"Faster. I need—"

"What do you need?" I prompted.

"Be specific."

"I need you to fuck me," she finally gasped out, all pretense of modesty abandoned.

"Hard. Please."

The desperate plea in her voice shattered my control.

"Since you asked so nicely," I growled, and then I gave her exactly what she begged for.

I pounded into her with abandon, one hand fisted in her hair while the other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise.

She met me thrust for thrust, and when she turned her head to look back at me with those lust-darkened eyes, I captured her mouth in a consuming kiss.

Her hands clutched at my neck as she initiated deeper contact, her tongue tracing my Adam's apple before kissing along my jaw with surprising boldness.

My desire exploded.

I thrust harder, deeper, angling to hit that spot inside her that made her cry out.

The need to possess her completely dominated every thought.

My gaze fell on that mark on her neck—that fucking bond mark from another male—and rage mixed with my arousal.

My fingers brushed over the bite scar.

"Cover it," Cis snarled inside me.

"Make her ours."

That inferior alpha's mark would be easy to overwrite.

I leaned down, my teeth grazing the scarred skin, ready to bite down and claim what was mine—

Someone knocked on the door.

"Alpha... Alpha Brandon is requesting to speak with you."

Lyra's father.

He'd just delivered her and was already eager to extract something from me.

Beneath me, Lyra seemed to snap back to awareness.

She instinctively covered the back of her neck with her hand, and I felt the moment slip away.

My mood soured instantly.

"Tell him to fuck off," I snarled at the door.

Frustration clawed at me.

In the end, I could only thrust a few more times before finishing inside her, but it wasn't enough—not even close to satisfying the hunger I felt.

Lyra scrambled away from me immediately, curling up on the far side of the bed with her arms wrapped around herself.

The fog of heat had cleared from her eyes, replaced by wary alertness.

I said deliberately, "Your scent made me lose control."

She opened her mouth but found no rebuttal.

After all, she'd simply entered heat, and I'd "lost control" because of it—I hadn't forced her into anything.

The truth was written all over her flushed skin and trembling limbs.

Anger and regret flickered in her eyes, as if she was ashamed of her earlier abandon, ashamed of how eagerly she'd begged for me.

Hadn't she enjoyed it too?

Was it because of that worthless alpha who'd marked her—the bastard who'd fucked his stepmother?

Did she love him that much?

Was she still pining for him?

Cis roared furiously inside me.

"She's ours now!"

I suppressed the surge of displeasure.

Perhaps this disloyal little she-wolf needed a reminder of her place.

"Why did you suddenly go into heat just now?" I asked, my tone deceptively casual.