All The Queen's Monsters (The Queen's Slave, Book 3)

Seven: Beneath The Surface

"I wondered what happened when you offered yourself to someone, and they opened you, only to discover you were not the gift they expected, and they had to smile and nod and say thank you all the same."

Jodi Picoult

O W E N

Things couldn't have gone worse after that moment. Here I was, a mess, and I still had the audacity to think I was fit to claim a mate. A very male mate, in every sense of the word. Thankfully, my wolf was too weak and faded shortly after. So here I sat, in someone else's low-rise jeans and no shirt. My hair was unkempt and dirty, frankly a travesty all on its own. I did whatever I could to avoid his gaze as the crushing silence stretched on, my heart hammering in my batteted ribcage. I could hear his breathing, smell his cologne, and beneath that, horses. It was addicting and lethal, winding around my senses and holding me captive to everything he did.

"What did you say?" The hairs on the back of my neck lifted at the warning in his low tone.

"You heard me." I swallowed hard, barely uttering the words.

"Look at me, boy."

His gruff tone and commanding presence had my dick twitching in my pants.

"Not now dammit." I mentally cursed, wracked with nerves.

I looked up, immediately finding his eyes, my breath stalling at the callous look in his eyes, feeling my heart start to tear. My jaw clenched as I dug elongated fingernails into the table I sat upon, every muscle tense. But I never looked away from him, from the smoldering amber that encased his iris. I told myself that if this was the last time I could look at him, then I was going to look. And when I finished I met his eyes once more, a painfully lazy smile on my face as sudden confidence flooded my body when I caught him doing the same. My stomach fluttered at the fury and passion coiled inside him, like a dam waiting to burst. Scooting off the table, my bare feet slapped against the floor as I padded over to him, cradling my still healing broken arm to my chest. Some of my confidence wavered as I realized just how tall he was, even for a vampire. He was built like a logger, tall and broad, with a trimmed beard to match.

"What did you say?" He repeated, that low baritone washing over me and I stopped, craning my neck to look up at him.

"I don't really want to repeat it, this moment successfully succeed a lifetime of pain and torment so if you want to reject me then save your breath and at least give me time to shower." I said over my shoulder, passing him and leaving. I needed a hot shower and a bed and I did not have time for all his "you're not the mate I ever wanted" speech. I had to stifle a laugh when the door shut in his dumbstruck face.

As expected, I barely made it five more steps before he was on my ass, all six foot seven inches of him. And this is the part where I lost my composure. You see, trauma has a funny way of popping back into your life. You never know when it'll hit you, or what will happen once it does. Only the strong survive here, if only survival didn't come at such a cost.

He reached out to grab me and I snapped, whirling on him with a snarl, my skin tearing so fast I both felt excruciating pain and yet nothing. My lips peeled back as I scrambled to my feet, facing the bewildered vampire as he realized just what he was dealing with. Without effort my wolf slid into his mind, and I wanted to close my eyes, having never wanted this for him.