CHAPTER FOUR.

CRUZ’S POV.

 I was, sitting in the back of the car with a strange yet beautiful-looking she-wolf directly opposite me. What had pushed me into this was simple, the Kingdom’s desperation to have a Luna.

Why did I let their wants and need to get to me?

Because...well, I had no idea.

Maybe because I was their Alpha.

Or maybe I needed closure.

I don't know.

I heaved out a soft sigh as I tried not to look away from the space I stared ahead. I could feel her hesitation. She didn't want to be here, and that was obvious. I lacked any form of sympathy for her, so I wasn't interested in her story or how she got there. All I cared about was giving my Wolves a Luna.

When I heard of the slave trade in the Black Market, I came up with an idea, and I knew I had to give it a shot.

So here I was, with a she-wolf I was starting to doubt would fit into the status. Maybe I should have gone for a more classy she-wolf.

But no, I wanted someone I could control.

 About fifteen minutes into the drive, I decided to tell her of her role in this. I tilted my head to look her way and saw her looking downwards, her eyes glued to her feet as she moved them gently. It made me wonder what was going through her mind then, but it wasn't in my position to care.

“What's your name?” I asked her and watched her head jerk up in fear to land her big Blue eyes on me. There was something about her eyes that wanted to drown me in.

“El...El...Eleanor.” She stammered and blinked her eyes, her long Black lashes fluttering with the wind. She looked away again, her eyes avoiding mine.

Was there something she was hiding? Or did she feel intimated by me?

I wondered.

Growing up, I was told that my appearance and looks often intimated the weak ones around me; even the strong ones could barely stand it. That was one thing that made me stand out amongst the other Alpha. 

Because they referred to me as the Alpha with the Blackheart.

They were right.

I had no heart.

“Okay, Eleanor,” I responded, letting her name roll off my tongue slowly before clearing my throat.

“This is it. Your name is Princess Lily from Dark World Pack, 22 years of age, and the only daughter of Alpha Patrick and the late Luna Sparkles.” I paused, my eyes lingering over her for no reason in particular.

It could be that I wanted to know if she paid attention.

I shoved the thought aside and continued.

“You are an old friend of mine, and we attended the same school. Understood?” I informed her.

Her head jerks up again, this time faster than before, as though I just asked her to assassinate someone. She sent me a questioning look. I knew she wanted to ask questions, but instead, she said nothing, nodding in response.

“Good. I need you to be my pretend Luna.” I ordered her. It wasn't like I needed her opinion after all. I didn't care about her thoughts or wants. All I cared about was mine.

She was mine. My pet. My slave. Mine to do anything well. And right now, I wanted her to play a character role. This would be a movie with me as the Director, the Scriptwriter, and the Male Lead. 

That was why I was superior. I could do anything without anyone's permission.

I loved the feeling of that.

Her jaw dropped. I had no idea if it was from disbelief or bewilderment. She looked shocked to hear it, more appalled than when I told her to play the character. 

She opened her mouth to say something but closed it on seeing the stern look I gave her. I hated being questioned, especially by someone way below me.

I said nothing more to her, looking away to stare back at the space ahead.

Her breathing had gotten heavy, and I could hear it because that was how sensitive my hearing could sometimes be. I can hear a pin drop from a mile away.

Well, that was if I wanted to.

My eyes lingered back to her, running over here one more time, taking in all the little details I needed to take in. It was at that point that it occurred to me that she needed to not just act on the role but look at the position.

“Turn the car around!” I ordered, my voice cold.

Driver Plank turned his head around to look at me.

“May I ask why, Master?” He said.

I sent him a cold glare.

“Are you questioning my orders?” I asked, my voice getting harsher and my anger boiling up.

Who was he to question me, especially in front of her?

“N...n...No, Sir.” He sauntered, his hand shivering as he turned the car around.

About twenty minutes into the drive, I sighted a shop fancy enough for my patronage.

“Stop the car!” I ordered, and immediately the car stopped, letting out a loud screech.

Yes! That was the way I wanted it.

Fear. I wanted them to fear me. I needed them to worry me.

*****

“Pick whatever you desire,” I informed her, then settled on the sofa. My eyes ran through the dresses there. They all looked good. I didn't know much about buying things, so it was all up to her.

Her eyes were glued to the floor, her fingers intertwined before her lower body. She ran her fingers in circles on the uneven floor. My eyes landed on her bare feet.

I squeezed my eyes briefly.

She had walked with those in this hot weather.

Why didn't she say something?

I was cold, not brutal.

The young Blonde who had walked up to us to attend to us looked from her to me as though trying to understand our connection.

I knew she could be too shy to talk or scared.

“Bring your best collection,” I informed her, and she gave me a slight nod before walking away to attend to us.

She returned a few minutes later with three hangers full of dresses, different colors and styles. 

“These are the best ones, Sir. Which do you want?” She asked. 

I thought hard for a second.

“Give us everything in her size,” I ordered, and she nodded as the others started to pack them.

I caught Eleanor stealing a glance at me, pulling her eyes away quickly.

I knew she was shocked. But I could afford it. I could afford this whole shop.

By the time they were done, I had asked them to get her something appropriate yet beautiful and some shoes too. I watched them gesture to her to come with them, and she did after I gave her a nod to go ahead.

I picked up a fashion magazine from the stand beside the Brown sofa and flipped it over. It looked old and undoubtedly outdated.

Poor!

I yelled in my head, rolled my eyes, and slammed the magazine back on the stand.

I was getting impatient as seconds ticked into minutes, minutes into longer minutes. I was wondering if she was ever going to come out.

Or did she run off? Did they maybe let her pass through the back door after she explained her dilemma? Should I perhaps barge in and do something?

Argh!

I was about to stand up when she appeared.

My gaze followed her every move. My eyes almost twitched.