Like many times in the Soren pack, I thought that I was prepared for this. And like many time in the Soren pack, I realized I was wrong and had one of my honourary panic attacks. And every time I'd convince myself to relax, my body surged with panic, and a familiar ebb of looming darkness would cast itself on my blood.

My attacks had no remedy nor a relaxant that eased it. It was a human quality that some of the Soren blooded members had retained in their genes. It made for terrible war strategies in an unplanned attack, and questionable decisions when leading through situations that called for an individual who could act wisely under pressure. It was a curse, almost.

My hands fisted the bedsheet at the side of my thighs, as my eyes widened. I wheezed, and inhaled harshly, trying to convince the oncoming terror to retreat back into me. I got up and locked the door, as serous beads of warm tears slithered down my face. I swiped at my hair furiously, pressing them down onto my head, pushing it behind my ears. I laid down on the bed, looking at the door, with tears in free fall, without energy. I was tired, and that would hopefully discourage any treacherous reactions from my body.

I covered my mouth with my hand because I had began sucking in breaths harshly, loudly, trying to prevent anything violent from happening. My eyes seemed to open my ducts to allow tears to soak my entire face, and wet the pillow I was on. I looked at the door and felt slightly better than at the border house. I was too tired to care what could possibly happen to me, I fell asleep. It was a dangerous move, a curse.

I woke up the following day, with slightly puffy eyes, my face still wet and the pillow soaked. I had cried in my sleep. It was early, barely dawn, there wasn't a clock in the room. I took the chance to actually observe the new prison I was in. The room was indicative of wealth and looked extremely similar to the one at the border house, extravagant. I had to inhale to note the change of scent. I lazily got up, feeling sorry for myself, my pack would be disappointed, I was disappointed. Shuffling into the bathroom, I let the pelting water droplets of the shower to beat down on my face and body as a thousand thoughts bombarded my mind. The cold beads eased the puffiness of my eyes, I could feel that they had healed. My hands had healed too.

I got out of the shower, wetting the tiled floor and mat in my wake. It was almost poetic as the tears continued to wet my already soaking face. I looked through the closet, that he said had clothes for me, they were unsurprising stocked with clothes. What angered me was their colour; most of them were blue, as in the National colour of the Knights. I tried to reason it out, maybe there was some explanation, something to do with my integration. I grabbed a strapped dress, and proceeded to check through the drawers. Pulling the drawers out, my eyes immediately widened up in embarrassment. There lay an assortment of underwear, along side an even larger variety of lingerie. I grabbed a bra and a pair of panties and quickly shut the drawers harshly, evenly embarrassed, annoyed and angry. I pulled the clothes on with excessive and unnecessary force. I was hungry, starving, still not adjusted fully to the one meal a day that they had been feeding me.

I couldn't decide whether or not to leave the room to get something to eat because I didn't want to have to interact with him. My stomach rumbled in protest and a whine involuntarily left me. It was early still, hopefully he wasn't there. I uneasily opened the door, inhaling deeply. His scent was prominent, he had most likely left already. I stilled, crouching down onto the floor and listened, I heard nothing. He wasn't here. I inhaled once more, the scent of the Alpha male was powerful and shamefully I found it attractive. I felt my eyes become phased by it. A small rumble of approval vibrated through me. Rising from the ground and blinking away the phase in my eyes, I slowly descended the stairs, like a wolf tracking its prey, listening silently.

Yet, I heard nothing, I felt nothing and the scent was still somewhat stale. At the bottom of the stairs, I stood rooted, my eyes soaking up the extravagance of the elegant house. Wealthily furnished and luxuriously designed. The pit in my stomach began to burn with what I forced myself to believe was anger but it was just truly jealously. My feet padded softly on the carpeted grounds, then the polished hard wood floor and onto blanched tiles as I followed the scent of food to the kitchen, my stomach thrashing about in protest and hunger.

It felt wrong, entering his den and then eating his kills without asking. But I was invited to his home, he did say food was in the kitchen to my disposal. I opened a cupboard door, almost feeling like I was investigating, intruding, committing a crime. It was filled with wares. I closed it back slowly after collecting a cup and plate for myself. I gripped the handle of the scintillating silver refrigerator, hesitating to open it. I relented. I peered inside hopeful, my mind spiraling with thoughts consumed by my wondering why something felt so suspicious.

I didn't want to cook anything here or now. It felt too intimate, too normal, too mundane for the situation that I was truly in. It wasn't my right, nor was it a right given to me. But I was hungry, starving even. There were apples in the fridge, I pulled out two. I returned the dishes, since I wouldn't be needing them. Sitting on the bar stool of the kitchen island, I froze, listening to hear if anyone was there. Once I felt it was safe, my body relaxed slightly. Peering the the red fruit, I brought it up to my nose, inhaling deeply, it smelt fresh and clean; not poisoned and safe to eat. My eyes flashed around the room suspiciously right before I hit into the apple, I relaxed further.

I was hungry, eating bite after bite, trying not to feel greedy or choking myself. I let out a slight noise of disapproval. They had made me feel like if I was stealing food, like I was allowed to eat. They made me feel how my mother felt when the Soren community had the famine. Deprived. I chewed harshly, grinding my teeth together at the thought. My face heated with anger and the apple coaxed and crushed by the deathly grip I had on it.

"I see you're up, that's good," a powerful baritone voice reverberated across the room and through me.

Startling me, my teeth missed the apple in my mouth and chomped down on my lip, puncturing the soft flesh. I squealed softly, my hand rushing up to nurse the injury, the blood pooling at my lips. I narrowed my eyes at him. His lean sweaty body braced against the frame of the entrance of the kitchen. His body unmoving, my eyes zoned in at the moisture that trickled down his toned body, weaving through the contours and curves of his muscled chest and abdomen. His scent wafted pungently in the air, as when I breathed it felt like a high. I shameless peered at him, blinking away the oncoming phase of my eyes and my tongue darting out to ease the injury at my lip. He stared back at me, his mere presence asserting the dominance that clearly surged through him. A powerful male.

"Alpha," I mumbled out in recognition and acknowledgement, "I didn't know you were still here," I continued, my eyes moving from his to look at the blood on my hands.

His piercing gold eyes were narrowed at me. I felt my head moving slightly at its own accord, to show submission. My neck bared minuscule at his dominance and my body naturally and unwillingly perked up at the attention of the potent and prime Alpha. I licked my lips shamelessly.

"We need to discuss some things," he said before walking into the kitchen, eyeing me like the predator he was. I didn't reply, the statement wasn't open for a reply.

He ignored my statement that required some sort of response. Walking past me, and into the kitchen, his back faced me as he opened the fridge. The strong corded muscles ripples and flexed in his back as he opened the door. I licked my chaps, my lips and closed my eyes to return the phase. The primitivity in my genes enamored by the sheer dominance he exuded and the night of this wolf in his prime. It felt right to be attracted to this male but at the same thing my mind encouraged me it was wrong. Seeing his muscles flex to turn around, my wrenched my eyes away from him and shifted it back to the barely eaten apple in my hand that was choking from my grip.

He didn't talk for a while, silently eating a banana and then drinking some water from the fridge. When he placed the glass in the counter opposite me on the island, I looked at him. His arms gripped the counters and he leaned onto it for support. One coming up to run a hand through his wild raven hair. Swiftly fixing it away from sticking to his face.

"When is your wolf maturation day?" He asked, looking directly at me, his eyes smoldering and daring me to lie.

"The twenty-fourth of this month," I replied truthfully, in a small voice.

"The marriage ceremony is on the first new moon. The second Sunday from now," he said, looking at me with a straight face,
"That's two days before,"

My eyes shifted to the apple, in an attempt to distract myself, glaring at it, and squeezing it harshly. It made a small crunch, I released my grip. The thought of the marriage made me nauseous, anxious even. My mind flashed through possible outcomes and began imagining everything that would go wrong, everything that they could do to me. My stomach thrashed around in fright.

I took note that he said marriage ceremony and not the mating acceptance ceremony. This was business, an agreement between two people for the benefit of others. They couldn't hurt me, it would wage war. I felt my eyes flash and moisten, I glared at the apple. I could still feel his looking presence, waiting for a reaction, he thought he would get. So like many times in the Soren pack, I thought that I was prepared for this. And like many times in the Soren pack, I realized I was so devastatingly wrong.