"I am his? I am his!" I repeat to myself in frustration, trying to wrap my head around his words. What did he mean by saying I am his mate? I give him a puzzled look, my expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

My thoughts race back to the stories I've heard about wolves from camp. They mentioned fated mates, but I had always dismissed those tales as mere bedtime stories for children. They spoke of finding their other half, a concept I had never taken seriously. Now, faced with the Alpha King's assertion, I had to reconsider everything I thought I knew.

I recall the teachings about the moon goddess and the reverence the wolves hold for her. They attribute their unique abilities to her favor. But even if fated mates were real, why would she pair me, a weak and tiny human, with this ruthless Alpha King? It made no sense.

I want to argue, to resist his claim, but the stern tone in his voice and the anger in his eyes quash any objections I might have had. Reluctantly, I decide to accept what he's saying, at least for the moment. I need answers, clarity about what it means to be his mate, and what consequences it may have for my people.

"So, you slaughter my people, kidnap me, and now you want me to be your mate?" I implore, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "What does that possibly mean?" I need more than a vague declaration. I need to understand the implications of this newfound status. "How can you expect me to be your wife, your queen, and you even mentioned children? My mind is overwhelmed with questions."

But his response is unwavering and unyielding. "I believe that I have been clear. This is not a choice for either of us. We are mates, and you are mine." His words hang in the air, leaving me with a sense of inevitability and a future I never could have imagined.

He extends his hand to me. "Come," he says calmly, but when I hesitate, he growls out, "Now." I go forward and place my hand in his, and he pulls me to his strong chest, seeming to breathe me in. After a long, deep breath taken near my neck, he calmly says, "I do not like repeating myself, little one. You will learn this."

I shiver from his authority. I am both scared of and drawn to this man. Everything has been happening so fast, but I consider, if I am his mate, that means he cares for me, right? And if he cares for me, maybe I can use my influence to help my people.

"Um, your majesty?" I choke out, looking up at him.

"Rylan," he corrects sternly. "I do not want my mate to address me by titles."

I nod, and even though it feels weird addressing him by his name, I say, "Rylan." He makes a sound, almost like a purr of approval, so I continue, "What about my people?"

He responds with absoluteness, playing with my long blonde hair, "My people are now your people."

Not wanting to argue, I say, "But what about the people from my camp?"

"What about them?" he responds absentmindedly, his fingers still entwined in my hair.

I am disgusted at how little value he places on my people, but getting angry with him won't help them; I need to tread lightly. This may be how I can help the cause without being involved in the violence. So, I put on a sweet voice and say, "Well, they are my friends, like family to me. I can't bear the thought of them as prisoners. Many are already dead, and I need to properly mourn them. I would like to do so in the company of my friends."

He responds coldly, his icy stare cutting through my resolve, "These people are rebels who question my rule. They are lucky that I didn't exterminate every last one of them."

I'm shocked by his coldness and can't contain my anger any longer. "But I am one of them!" I retort, my voice trembling with frustration.

Again, he says resolutely, "No, you were one, and I am choosing to look past that as you are my mate. Your loyalties now lie with me."

My anger flares, and I push off of him, needing some distance to collect my thoughts. "My loyalties have and always will lie with my people, the humans that you werewolves treat like scum. That has not changed."

What am I doing? Am I trying to get myself killed? I can't help my people if I'm dead. But something inside me refuses to back down.

"Things have changed, you are my mate, you belong by my side," he responds, his voice laced with frustration and anger.

I can't help the tears that begin to fall, my emotions a turbulent storm within me. "I may be your mate, but you are nothing but an evil Alpha King to me, don't you understand that? I don't know what connection you feel, but all I feel is hatred toward you for what you have done to my people!"

I lied. I feel a connection too, but I won't let him know that.

His anger radiates from him like an inferno. His jaw clenches so tightly, it's a wonder it doesn't crack. Those powerful fists remain balled, and I can practically see the turmoil raging within him. I can't help but feel that I've prodded the beast, pushed the boundaries of what's acceptable.

In this tense moment, I'm at a loss for how to navigate this treacherous terrain. My heart aches for my friends, for my people, imprisoned in this cruel system. The life of a queen in this opulent palace would be nothing more than a beautiful prison, a gilded cage. I might consider it if I could wield my influence to better the lives of the humans, but I refuse to be this man's compliant mate while he inflicts pain upon my people.

He seems to have regained some composure, his voice tinged with weariness as he breaks the silence, "It has been a long day. Much has happened, and you are still confused. I will have the maids prepare you some food. Eat, then rest."

Before I can respond, he strides out of the room, leaving me alone with my tumultuous thoughts. Later, as he said, a maid arrives, bearing a tray laden with a feast fit for a queen. The aroma of the sumptuous meal teases my senses, but I can only muster the will to pick at it. Guilt consumes me. How can I indulge in such decadence while my people likely suffer in confinement, perhaps even hunger?

I sit up, my mind a maelstrom of emotions, my resolve unshaken. He still hasn't revealed the fate of my people, and until he does, I cannot relent. But for now, I lie back down, the weight of my responsibilities pressing upon me, as I contemplate the uncertain path ahead.

Days blend into one another as I remain ensnared within the confines of this grand room. The maids bring me meals, but I consume them out of necessity rather than enjoyment. He has entered a few times, attempting to engage me in conversation, but I maintain my steadfast silence, a silent plea for him to aid my people.

I can sense the simmering anger beneath his controlled facade, and it leaves me wondering just how far I can push him. The monotony of captivity fuels my restless mind, and I've dedicated hours to devising escape plans. Ideas dance in my head, like shadows in the dark, each one a glimmer of hope.

I ponder the possibility of reaching another rebellion camp, sharing the scant information I've gathered, and contributing to our cause. Ethan's name surfaces in my thoughts; he was always resourceful, a master at navigating treacherous situations. My mind races through multiple escape scenarios, each one a potential avenue to freedom.

However, reality anchors me. The windows, though they taunt me with the world beyond, remain unyielding. Even if I shattered them, the precipitous drop to the ground below would be insurmountable. My conscience rebels against the idea of harming the innocent maids, even if it means swapping outfits and making my escape while they slumber.

I'm left with what I consider the most distasteful option: playing nice with the king, hoping for his favor, and securing my release from this gilded prison. But the problem is trust—or rather, the lack of it. I don't trust myself around him. Whenever our eyes meet, an inexplicable pull tugs at my heart, a magnetic force born of this unsettling mate bond. It clouds my judgment, lures me into the dangerous territory of emotions I shouldn't entertain.

I remind myself of my purpose: to aid my people, not to succumb to the allure of this cruel man. Yet, an absurd thought persists in my chaotic mind—what if, by allowing myself to fall into his embrace, this connection deepens? What if, in the intimacy of our bond, I could persuade him to advocate for better treatment of humans?

My thoughts are a labyrinth of conflicting desires as I pace around the room for the umpteenth time. The path ahead remains murky, uncertain, and fraught with peril, but one thing is clear: I must resist the intoxication of his presence and stay focused on the mission at hand—saving my people from this nightmare.