Page 33 of The Alpha's Chosen Fate

Multiple times a day I could feel him prodding at our bond, seeking connection, seeking to restore it.I slammed down my mental walls as best I could.Rieka had helped me figure out how to hold off his mental intrusions.

I’d never thought I’d need to learn since he’d never tried before, not until I was forced to return to Darkwood. I still couldn’t believe he’d sent Baylor after me, not when he had Ruby.

Speaking of, I’d neither heard nor scented the female at any point since my arrival.He should at least have carried traces of her on his clothes and skin.

It was strange.

Briggs's scent, however, lingered in the air and weakened my resolve.

So I paced.Back and forth, back and forth, like a caged animal.

Four days of being held hostage, of inhaling his scent, of my wolf lifting her head to seek traces of Onyx, of fighting every fiber of my being not to strip naked and bare my neck in submission.

Gah!Fuck biology and fuck fate.

My wolf sighed.

They fucked us first, Rieka!

The door creaked open, and I stiffened, gritting my teeth.

"Hello, Ivy," Briggs greeted.

"Alpha McClellan.”

“Briggs.”

As usual, I ignored the correction.“How much longer are you going to keep me locked in here?”

“As long as it takes.”

I was close to my breaking point, terrified of not being certain which way I’d break.

“And how long do you think it will take for me to forget what you did?How you so cruelly ensured I knew, under no uncertain terms, you were choosing that harlot?That you wanted someone else to be Luna?Wanted her so badly you had no trouble rejecting your true mate?”

He flinched."It wasn't like that, Ivy.I hate how much I hurt you."

"Yet you did a superb job of it, didn't you?Better than anyone else possibly could have."

Briggs reached out, his fingers grazing my arm.I took a step back, out of his reach, rubbing at the trail of heat he’d left behind.

His hand fell to his side, a flash of pain in his eyes.

Good.Let him hurt.Let him feel a fraction of the agony I’d suffered over his actions and words.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

It was the first time he’d given me a sincere apology.There was a rawness to his words that almost made me believe him.

Almost.

My jaw clenched so tight it ached."I don’t care if you’re sorry."

I blinked and we were chest-to-chest.

“Oh, Ivy, I think you do.”

I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.His eyes were stormy today, swirling with emotion.

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