CHAPTER 49: TRAPPED WITH MY SECRET III

I settled back onto the plush leather sofa, dreading this entire situation. The terrifying allure of Alpha Dawn’s threat plus the mention of the handcuffs and the scorned safe word, ’Ice’ had been brutally effective. And he knew that. Bastard!

Dawn watched me for a moment longer, his dark eyes assessing, ensuring my compliance. When I was firmly seated, he gave a curt nod, a cold look of satisfaction crossing his features. He then turned his full attention back to his Luna.

"Proceed, Odessa," he commanded, his voice returning to the flat, dismissive tone he reserved for her.

Luna Odessa took a slow, deep breath, visibly forcing herself to calm down. The frustration on her face smoothed into a practiced and slightly strained, composure. She moved from the doorway, taking a few deliberate steps closer to the desk, circling it slightly so that she was more in Dawn’s peripheral vision.

"Dawn, I think you are doing it again," she began, her voice low and mixed with a plea. "You are love-bombing me, then pulling away. I know this game, and I refuse to play it. You were not always this cold to me. Remember when we first started? Before the proposal?"

Dawn picked up his pen, dipped it, and began to write again. The scratching sound of the nib on the expensive paper became the sound now dominating the room. From his expression, it seemed like a deliberate, cruel counterpoint to the Luna’s increasingly emotional speech.

"You were a romantic then," she continued, the words tumbling out with a desperation. "The way you initiated our first time in the car it was spontaneous, passionate. You couldn’t keep your hands off me, Dawn. You made me feel wanted, needed. You used to watch me like... like you watch her." Her eyes flickered to me, a flash of pure hatred, before snapping back to her mate.

Dawn did not look up still.

"And you told me I was your mate," Odessa pleaded, her voice cracking slightly. "You looked me in the eyes and proposed properly, with all the traditions. You promised me a partnership, not just a title. Was that all a lie? Was the passion, the obsession was it all just an act to secure your position, or mine?"

I sat frozen on the sofa, wanting desperately to cover my ears. The knot in my stomach tightened, making me feel physically ill. I was an unwilling audience to this painful destruction of the mate bond of these two, if not the antagonist. This was too intimate, too revealing. I felt a rush of nausea and discomfort.

I am a side chick, I realized, the truth hitting me like a rush of reality. I am a mistress, listening to the Alpha’s wife beg for his attention, and I am the reason he doesn’t want her.

Odessa was reaching the climax of her emotional breakdown. Her voice became harder.

"And the sex, Dawn," she hissed, leaning her hands on the edge of the mahogany desk. "The last few times. You were uninterested. You barely looked at me. You kept talking about how you wanted ’something new and different,’ something to satisfy your kink! You said you needed more control. More... danger."

She spat the words out.

"You’re using that as an excuse, aren’t you?" she demanded, finally raising her voice to a shout that now dominated the scratching of his pen. "The ’kink,’ the ’new obsession’ it’s just an excuse to dump me! To humiliate me!"

She stood there, breathing hard, her chest heaving, waiting for a reaction.

Dawn, finally, dropped his pen. The sound of the small metal object hitting the paper was loud in the sudden silence of the room. He raised his head, his dark eyes colder than I had ever seen them.

"You are done, Luna," he stated, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Now, leave."

Odessa’s face crumpled with fury and defeat. She stared at him for a long moment, then straightened her spine, smoothing her dress with shaking hands.

"I was about to leave," she lied, her voice still tight.

She turned and stalked toward the door. As she passed my sofa, her movement became subtly slow. She kept her back to Dawn, but her eyes locked onto mine. With the slightest twitch of her right hand, she made a gesture. It meant: "Wait for me outside."

I was startled, but I understood the signal immediately. Odessa wanted to speak with me, and she didn’t want Dawn to know. A moment later, she was gone, slamming the heavy door behind her.

The quiet returned, interrupted only by the resumed scratching of Dawn’s pen. But I couldn’t sit still anymore. The image of Odessa’s pain, the confirmation of my status as his side-piece, it all made the room feel like a cage.

I stood up, quickly and decisively.

"Alpha," I said, my voice firmer than I thought possible. "I would like to leave now. I cannot remain here."

He did not look up. "Sit down, Bambi," he said, the words coming out as a low, dangerous warning that didn’t even interrupt the flow of his writing. "That is your final warning."

I balled my fists. "You have no right to give me a warning," I shot back. My legs were shaking, but I held my ground. "Not after what just happened in here."

He stopped writing. The pen was lifted from the page, but he still didn’t raise his head.

"I felt embarrassed," I continued, my voice laced with humiliation. "I felt like a side chick listening to the Luna beg her mate for attention. I feel bad for her, Dawn. I truly do. And that is why I am telling you now: I do not wish to continue the affair I was having with you. You have to let me go."

The room went utterly silent.

This time, he raised his head. Slowly. Deliberately. He didn’t get up quickly, but he took his time, placing his pen down with painful carefulness. He then rose to his full, towering height, his face masking a terrifying calm.

He walked around the mahogany desk with agonizing slowness, his dark eyes never leaving mine.

He stopped directly in front of me. His hand reached out to cup my wrist gently. His thumb began to move, caressing my skin in a soft, tender motion that was almost a loving gesture. My breath hitched. The touch was seductive, confusing, and intensely possessive.

Then, with a lightning-fast, brutal movement the cold steel of a handcuff snapped around my wrist. I hadn’t even seen where he pulled it from. It was there one second, and the next, it was securely fastening me to him. The cuff was attached to a short chain, the other end of which he must have attached to his belt loop or his wrist.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, his voice dropping to a gravelly, intimate murmur.

"You don’t get to decide what we are, little doe," he breathed. "You don’t get to end anything. And the next time you disobey my direct order to sit down, I will not hesitate to give you the severe punishment you truly deserve. You are mine, Bambi. Remember that."