Chapter Ten #3
He extends his glass, and I follow the direction to spot Julius, who only shrugs, as if accustomed to the insult. Bishop’s jaw tightens, his eyes flashing before he blinks it away.
Being called weak or soft is degrading for any man, but I can only assume it’d be worse in a werewolf Pack, where strength is king.
I look at my father, with his easy insults and his booming voice, and I struggle to imagine my mother falling for him. But she’d been young, and Silas Stockwell would have been a very handsome werewolf, with a dangerous edge that might have appealed to the more reckless witch she’d once been.
While the insults make me uneasy, I remind myself that I’d seen such behavior with my male friends as a village child, where they’d toss insults as easily as jests. I’d felt the temptation to join in—again, to prove I belonged—but I’d never been able to do it.
My father continues, “Bishop is different. He’s the best that a Danvers can be, the perfect blend of ruthlessness and rationality.
He’s young. He wasn’t raised in the Pack, but he’s overcome that and earned his position at my side.
Now he’s gone further, rescuing my daughter and bringing her to me, which I’ve heard was much more difficult than he expected. ”
My father turns an affectionate smile on me. “My daughter takes after her mother and—I’d like to think—her father. She didn’t go with Bishop willingly. She demanded answers, and she defended herself. But Bishop brought her to me unscathed.” He pauses. “Well, she was unscathed.”
Hoots and laughter. Bishop sits there with that faraway stare. He’s uncomfortable, I realize. Ill at ease when the spotlight shines on him. Preferring to do his work from the shadows, because he understands that too much attention is dangerous.
My father continues, “It has been a long time since we had a werewolf’s daughter at Trevelyan. Once it would have been normal. All of you who have fathered daughters would have brought them here, where they would have cooked and cleaned for us.”
My head shoots up. Is he saying that the Pack did claim their daughters once? And made them into servants ?
My father doesn’t see my reaction. He’s still speaking.
“Even earlier than that, an Alpha’s daughter enjoyed a special position.
The Alphahood passed through her, not through the male line.
The Pack’s finest wolf was rewarded with one of the Alpha’s daughters.
He would become the next heir, and their daughter would be mated to the finest wolf of the next generation.
Now, we have an Alpha’s daughter at Trevelyan again.
” He beams at me. “But she’s more than that.
She’s a powerful young witch and a lycan. ”
A ripple runs along the table, whispers and stifled exclamations. Unease creeps through me, even as I tell myself that this is just a parent bragging about their child.
My father continues, “Is it any wonder that other wolves want her? But my daughter is not breeding stock for our enemies. I will never allow that.”
A round of cheers. I glance at Bishop, and when I see his dour expression, my stomach twists. He doesn’t like this. Because it wastes Pack resources on a mere female?
“Now, the simple solution would be to keep Cordelia here, under guard.” My father smiles my way. “Which wouldn’t be simple at all. She won’t stand for prolonged captivity, however well intentioned. My daughter is no pretty parakeet, happy in a cage. She’s a young tigress, beautiful and dangerous.”
I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. I’m no tigress. Someday, maybe. A deadly tigress, like my aunt. Or a savage she-wolf no one dares to cross.
Still, if my father ever tried keeping me here, he’d discover that while “powerful witch” might oversell the matter, I would not meekly comply. I’m here temporarily, until he resolves this, and that’s all.
“There’s another solution,” my father says. “Most of you’ve long suspected I’m training Bishop to replace me. Not immediately, obviously. I have plenty of good years left.”
Obligatory laughter.
“But I’m ready to make this official. Bishop Daniels will be the next Alpha of the Albion Pack.”
Claps and whoops fill the room, but my father speaks over them. “And to solidify his position and the future of our Pack, we will return to one of our lost traditions.” He looks at Bishop. “Bishop—my heir—I give you the greatest gift I can offer. My beautiful and formidable daughter. As your mate.”
The roar of approval almost drowns out his final words, and I sit there, frozen, certain I misheard.
Blood pounds in my ears. I look at Bishop, but he only looks at my father and nods.
Accepting his prize.
Me.
I’m his prize.
The room sways, and my stomach lurches, but as I listen to that laughter, another emotion creeps in. Rage. Rage at my father for tricking me… and rage at myself for falling for it.
I push to my feet. No one even notices.
No, Bishop notices. He doesn’t look my way, but he goes still, as if he’s been watching me out of the corner of his eye.
Bishop slowly rises, and I brace, but he only turns to my father, inclines his head, and says, “Thank you.”
Fury burns through me.
He knew. All this time, Bishop knew what my father had in mind.
That’s why he was assigned to bring me in. That’s why my father said he’d be the one to teach me to use my secondary traits. That’s why he traveled with me. That’s why he told me to take his arm when I entered.
What was it I said? That the wolves would consider me a prize. Prime breeding stock.
Not for them.
That’s what he said. That I wasn’t a prize for them.
Because I’m his.
Now he acknowledges my father’s gift with the vague gratitude of a man being given a well-deserved but overdue raise. He’s earned his Alphahood, and he’s earned me.
The arrogant son of a bitch is simply accepting his due.
Me. A person. A human being. I’m his due.
I want to grab the table and topple it. I want to slam Bishop with an energy bolt. I want to show these so-called wolves what I am— who I am.
Not a prize.
Instead, I channel my mother. Remain calm. Do nothing I’ll regret. As much as I might love to show them who I am, I must also remember who I am. Not a powerful spellcaster. Not a savage she-wolf. Not a force to be reckoned with. Not yet.
I’ve risen to my feet, expecting to have a say, intending to respond in the most civil but firm manner possible. And yet it’s obvious I won’t be acknowledged.
I’m nothing but a prize to them. A broodmare. A dumb beast to be handed from one master to another.
I gather my dignity, turn, and walk toward the door.
“Bishop.” My father’s voice cuts through the din of congratulations. “Fetch your mate.”
Bishop’s reply is soft, barely above a murmur. “She can’t go anywhere—”
“Fetch her. Bring her back to her seat. Consider it your first lesson in being a husband.”
The rage whips through me, and I keep walking, even as I hear Bishop’s steps behind me. When he draws close, I duck his grasp, turn around, and march back to the table. Then I stand there, chin up.
Just as he said earlier.
Chin up.
My gaze turns on my father and I say, as coolly as I can manage, “I’m no man’s prize.”
My father only laughs. Not a cruel laugh, but one of honest amusement, even affection.
“And this is why my daughter will be the perfect mate for Bishop,” he says to the Pack.
“She’s fire to his ice. A will to match his own, but with the heat to supply what Bishop lacks.
” He reaches to thump Bishop on the arm.
“No man can be all things. Ice water runs through your veins. My daughter will temper it.”
My father turns to me. “I handled this poorly, my dear. I should have realized you’d be upset.
Your life has taken a turn, and I would love to fix it and send you home, but it can’t be fixed.
Not like that. This is how I’m going to protect you.
Once you’re married to Bishop, no one will dare touch you.
Plus you’ll be an Alpha’s daughter and then an Alpha’s mate.
That’s status. It’s power. You’ll come to see the advantages. ”
My vision swims, red creeping over everything as my rage rises, but here I thank the gods for my mother’s temperate blood. I know better than to lash out. I know better than to even refuse.
If I fight, my father can easily overpower me and lock me away until I comply.
Accept too easily, and I’ll arouse his suspi cions.
No, strike that. I’ll arouse Bishop’s suspicions.
He’s the one I need to watch. He already sees too deeply into me, knowing if I’m quiet, I’m thinking, if I’m docile, I’m plotting.
Find the line. Walk it until I can escape.
I turn to my father, my voice mild but not meek. “I understand this could be a solution. It’s also a shock, and I don’t wish to embarrass myself with an intemperate reaction. May I go to my quarters and think about it?”
He smiles, as if he’s still an indulgent papa, as if he didn’t just promise me to a stranger. “Of course. We’re about to begin the boring business part of the Meet anyway. Bishop will escort you and spend the evening with you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”