10 Be A Good Girl For Me

Roselia debated jumping out the window. The hospital doors were guarded by Tiberias men who didn't even look at her when she tried to speak to them. They politely closed the door in her face. When she tried to twist the knob, she found them holding tightly onto it, preventing her from trying to leave again.

Roselia knew she was stupid for trying to save her father. He wanted her to die at the altar, but why? Did he think death was a better fate than marrying Alpha Kerpan? Was this her father's way of saving her life? By killing her off? That would be the easiest move for Roselia, who knew her father's deepest darkest secret. 

A secret so twisted and cruel, that only Roselia and her brother knew of it. And the Fiore siblings would never betray the only parent they trusted and loved.

Roselia had to save her father no matter what. She raised the hospital chair and smashed the locked hospital window. Wind surged into the room, running through Roselia's hair, almost screaming at her in warning. She exhaled, peering down and realizing this would be a twenty-floor drop.

"Don't even think about it."

Roselia whirled around in horror, chair in her hand. When did he come in? She didn't even hear his footsteps. He stalked through the world like a shadow out for vengeance. He had hair the color of the brilliant sun, but eyes like the heartless moon.

"Put down the chair."

Roselia slowly lowered the equipment, glancing at him from head to toe. Blood didn't line his mouth. His shirt remained crisp and starch. His hair was perfect as always, with sharp strands falling over his bleak gaze, concealing two scars she'd sometimes see. He hadn't shifted. He hadn't killed anyone.

"Be a good girl for me and sit down." Cruden gestured for the hospital bed, his actions languid and amused. He didn't want to startle her. She was already behaving like a scared kitty, with her fur standing. She hesitantly obeyed him, plopping onto the bed.

Cruden revealed a slight smile of approval. He couldn't help himself. Her obedience was rare. He placed a stack of clothes on her lap before presenting her with a colorless glass vial. He uncapped the drink much to her confusion. 

"Drink it. This is the antidote for your poison," Cruden deadpanned. He dared her to disobey. He'd clutch her chin, pouring it down her throat if he had to.

Roselia was speechless, her eyes growing wide, revealing all the lines of gold in her pupils. She stared up at him, astonished by his actions, and gratefully took the vial from him. Briefly, their fingers touched. Briefly, she felt burned, as if sparks shot through her veins. She drank the antidote, grimacing at the bitterness of it all, hoping it'd wipe the memories of his caress. 

Roselia couldn't look at Cruden for too long. He had blinding features that could both invite and intimidate with a single look. His long fingers caught her attention as he withdrew the nearly emptied glass from her, corking it again, and placed it into his pocket. Whenever he moved, his hair reminded her of a cascade of golden threads falling just above his eyes in a wild, untamed nature. 

"We pumped your stomach of the contents, but were unsure of how much your body and bloodstream absorbed the poison," Cruden stated. "From the antidote, we'll be able to see what the ingredients are countering against, then figure out the poison."

Roselia slowly nodded, but she had a feeling what it was. One of Pack Fiore's deadliest weapons that she didn't have the heart or authority to reveal, for it had been created by her mother.

"Get dressed. We're discharging you." Cruden gestured to the neatly folded clothes on her lap. She calmly lifted the first piece of clothing. He chuckled, and she flushed. A new set of underwear and bra rested under the dress, laid out for the two of them to see. 

Black lace.

"Not my taste." Cruden patted the top of her head briefly, rustling her hair before turning on his heels and stalking out the door, closing it behind him.

Roselia was bewildered by his words and actions. If this black lace wasn't what he preferred, then why purchase it for her? Did someone else do it? She couldn't picture the grown and muscular Kallum shopping for underwear for her without looking out of place. Noah was out of the picture. She could see him blushing and lifting the undergarment like a shy little schoolboy. Then, who was it?

Roselia got dressed without a word and opened the door. She came face to face with the Tiberias men, this time, no longer forming a barricade around the entrance. Instead, they were in a hushed conversation about her, speaking of her attempts to leave. Their attention snapped to her.

Roselia gulped. She met Cruden's eyes, a piercing steel blue, reminding her of the depth of the ocean swirling with currents that'd swallow her alive. Those eyes, when fixed upon her, felt as if he could peer straight into her soul, uncovering secrets that she didn't even know she could be hiding. 

"Emerald green looks fantastic on you." Cruden straightened, just as his men bowed and excused themselves behind him.

Roselia touched her necklace at his compliment, turning to hide her reddened cheeks. It was embarrassing being caught trying to escape twice. His features were striking and sculptured with a precision that seemed otherworldly.

"Come," Cruden muttered, resting his palm upon her spine. Her back went rigid as she timidly walked beside him. His guard never dropped, even for just a moment. 

Roselia peered upon him, she couldn't help herself. Like everyone else, she found her gaze always drifting back to this enigmatic man. Despite his allure, Cruden carried an aloofness that none could crack. His demeanor was cold once more, a barrier that distanced himself from the world. She couldn't recount a single moment of warmth around him. 

Cruden walked with a grace the complete opposite of his powerful build. His every move was calculated and deliberate, with an air of effortless authority. Power was all that he knew. Power was all that he needed.

"If you like my face so much, you should take a picture, Roselia." Cruden glanced at her, and she hastily turned away. He revealed a ghost of a smile, laughing under his breath at how quickly she darted away, resembling a cat with her paws in the treats jar.

"There's something on your face," Roselia lied.

"You're my wife. Wipe it off for me, then."

Roselia could hear the mischief in his voice from a mile away. She could hear his soft chuckle that warmed her from head to toe, the sound so rare that even his men were bewitched. There was something achingly inhumane and irresistibly inviting about Cruden. His smile must've been a miracle, for everyone that paused and bowed in his presence couldn't help, but look up in awe. 

His words lingered in her head. Wife.

Roselia wondered if that word even held any weight to him. He didn't kiss her at the altar. He didn't consummate their marriage. She didn't even wear a ring. They knew nothing about each other. 

Roselia and Cruden were strangers.