a chair, hands tied behind my back, in the middle of an elaborate room—from what I can gather from the fragments that I can see. Peeking around is difficult, because the fabric is only slightly loose, but it’s enough that when I tip my head back, I can look down my nose and see beneath the fabric. I probably look like I’m aggressively smelling the air, but whatever. I’m pretty sure I’m alone, so I crane my neck, my head tilted all the way back as I take in the rich surroundings.
I see dark hardwood floors and a plush cream rug beneath my feet. Sparkling wall sconces, crown molding, floor-to-ceiling windows and silk drapes that flutter slightly on a brisk breeze that brings me no scent other than permeating pine.
I can see a glass fireplace burning through crystalized rocks that makes my cockatrice purr as it reflects a dazzling prism of color. The whole room screams wealth. It’s warm and masculine, and if I didn’t want to gut the male who owned it, I’d appreciate his taste. I inhale deeply, trying to sense if anyone else is in the room with me...and...fucking hell, the dude seriously needs to lay off the Pine-Sol.
I’m not sure why I’ve been tied up. I haven’t put up a fight this entire time, and it feels a bit dramatic. Then again, this is the douche Bowen we’re talking about, so I probably shouldn’t be surprised.
I hear a faint squeak, like someone stepped wrong on a grumpy floor board, and I immediately drop my head.
Who, me—peeking because my blindfold isn’t secure? Never!
The air pressure around me changes, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that someone else is definitely in the room now. They don’t talk, which again, shouldn’t surprise me, because it seems like what I’ve met of Alpha Bowen’s lounge is the big, over-muscled silent type. Even the pilot of the plane that flew me to my mystery location was ripped and mute. I wonder how he fit in the cockpit.
I want to ask what this motherfucker is doing lurking in the room and watching me, but I feel like whoever talks first loses in this silent battle of wills. I don’t like to lose those.
Maybe it’s a babysitter watching over me, or someone from Bowen’s lounge, curious to get a look at me. Maybe it’s the alpha himself. I imagine him looking over his prize tied to a chair and smiling like the smug bastard he is. Well, we’ll see how long that smile lasts.
My being here may be conceding to the whole mate thing, but no one said I had to be a good mate. After he pays my lounge’s debts, I have every intention of being the most annoying mate ever, so that he’ll want to return me in no time. Talking and chewing with my mouth open, never closing the door when I go to the bathroom, leaving my clothes all over the floor, doing that annoying exaggerated squeak every time I sneeze…I have a whole list in my head of shit I’m going to pull.
Someone tugs at the tie of my blindfold, and I tense. I didn’t even hear the fucker come up to me.
My heart hammers in my chest, and I wonder what Alpha Bowen is going to look like. Maybe he’s actually part dragon and that’s why he’s such an unforgivable prick. I hold my breath, partly because I’m nervous as fuck and partly because I’m pretty sure I’m getting high from the oversaturation of Pine-Sol cleaner in here.
The blindfold drops away from my face, and despite my little peephole, I have to blink as my eyes adjust to the flood of light in the room.
I turn to see who’s next to me, and my eyes bug out of my head as my blood runs cold. “Rook? What the hell are you doing here?” I demand on a frenzied whisper.
He leans down quickly to untie my hands, and I start hyperventilating with panic. “Rook, you have to get out of here! How did you even find me?” I look around the room, terrified that Alpha Bowen is going to come stomping in at any moment and end him.
“I came as soon as I could. I’m so sorry, Sunrise, I had no idea—”
My hands come free, and I leap out of the chair and tackle him in a hug. He squeezes me tightly, and we both release a deep relieved sigh at the same time. Tears