006: Shackled Desires

He traced the scent to this room, the room where the rogue was kept, he was shocked at first, but something uncontrollable pushed him to go in. 

The creaking door groaned open and shattered the smothering quiet of the lower quarters into a million pieces. Stirring from her fitful slumber, her body stretched taut with exhaustion, her brain clouded with fear. The footsteps in the space echoed deliberately and slowly; a predator closing in on his target.

Her heart quickened with his looming presence. She huddled in a ball, clasping her knees tight to her chest, her chains clanking at the grim reminder of her very vulnerability. She didn't need to look up and was surrounded by his scent: cedar and dark spice that spoke volumes through the air as her wolf stirred in both alarm and unwilling fascination.

Ryland stood there, his emerald eyes glowing in the dim light as they locked on her. His face was impassive, unreadable, yet behind his stoic façade, there was a flicker of something almost animal. The sight of the rogue girl, so fragile yet so defiant- made his wolf growl deep inside.

"Up," he ordered, his voice low and commanding.

She didn't move, only her eyes slit open, a glare in the hazel hue. "What do you want now?" was rasping out of her throat now, as it had suddenly run dry.

Ryland didn't answer her, but squatted down to her level instead, his towering figure looming so large before her. "Defiance does suit you," he grumbled, tugging at one corner of his lips to a small smile. "Yet, it is not going to save you.".

Before she could do anything, his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. The grip wasn't painful, though the suddenness sent a jerk through her so that she winced. Apparently, with effort from his side, he dragged her up to her feet, and she lurched onto weakened legs that just about held her weight.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, rising into panic.

Ryland said nothing. He dragged her down the dark corridor, the hold ruthless on her arm. She fought, attempting to wrench herself free, but he was much stronger than she was.

They reached the end and came to a room that had a heavy wood door, already ajar. He pushed it open and guided her inside. It was larger than she had expected, with a huge bed right in the middle, while chains were hanging off the posts, their metallic sheen catching the faint moonlight filtering through a small barred window.

She held her breath as her mind raced, staring around the room. "Why am I here?" she huffed the tone, a very obvious attempt to veil the trembling. 

Ryland swung to her; his eyes seemed to burn, like fierce embers. "You shall see," he responded dryly.

She had barely spoken the next words when, from his pocket, he drew out a strip of black cloth. Instantly, her eyes went wide as realization finally dawned.

"No," she whispered, headshaking. "Don't—"

Her plea was reduced to nothing as he reached her, this towering frame impossibly small. He tipped her chin up, and though the touch was gentle, there was no room for arguments.

"Don't move," he ordered low and evenly.

She could feel the urge to struggle, to rake at him, yet it was her body that betrayed her. The smell of him, the raw power seeping from his frame made her wolf shudder. Her fists curled into her palms as she labored to steel herself against his act of securing the blindfold tightly over her eyes.

It was overwhelming, making her other senses riot. She heard the gentle susurration of his clothes, the sound of his breathing steady, controlled. Her heart bucked in her chest as he walked her backward, the back of her knees hitting the edge of the bed.

"Sit."

She hesitated, but the slightest press of his hands on her shoulders left her no choice. She sat, the mattress giving in under her weight.

In one swift movement, her arms were jerked above her head, and she swallowed as cold metal clasped both wrists. The chains clinked as he fixed them to the bedposts, leaving her arms stretched out, her body open and exposed. She pulled at the bindings; they didn't move.

"Why?" she yelled, her voice hoarse from her tears.

Ryland didn't answer. Instead, he leaned down, his breathing ghosting over her ear. "Because I can," he said low and husky, sending a shiver running down her spine.

She bit into her lip; her mind was swimming with fear, anger, and something else she couldn't quite place. "You're a monster," she spat, though well without conviction.

He chuckled low, a velvety sound. "Maybe," he said, his fingers trailing down her arm, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

The blindfold was making her far too sensitive to his touch. Her breathing quickened as he leaned closer, the wolf inside of her stirring against her will, it seemed.

"Stop," she breathed, her voice quaking in her throat. "Please."

Ryland merely hesitated; his hand hovering above her skin. "Do you want me to?" he purred, and his tone was mocking and gentle, a weird combination.

She didn't say a word, and her silence spoke volumes.

He snorted, his wolf growling in approval. There was something about her vulnerability, her defiance mixed with fear, that stirred the fire within him. She wasn't like the others. She didn't fold so easily, and that fascinated him.

Then it happened.

The scent became intoxicating, like wildflowers and honey, more insistent than ever before. His wolf clawed at the surface, desperate to claim her.

He froze, staring at her, his breathing arrested as he drank in the look of her. Still blindfolded, her chest heaved with ragged breathing, her lips parted, catching air.

She felt it, too. The bond.

It was as though a jolt of electricity whipped through her body, causing her to gasp aloud. It didn't matter that she was blindfolded; she could sense him, every inch of him, as though some kind of silken thread joined them.

"What—" she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ryland stepped backward, his brain reeling. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was a rogue, a weakling, someone beneath him. And yet.

No," he growled, and thick denial was in his tone. "This can't be."

She jerked on her restraints. "What is happening?" she asked as the alarm was rising, lacing in her voice.

He didn't say a thing, just his wolf howling inside him as the mate bond pulled, irrevocable, irreversible.

"You," he said, his words very low and dangerous, "are my mate."

That one word hung in the air between them: challenge, heavy, impossible to avoid.

She froze. No. It couldn't be. The man who'd chained and blindfolded her then tortured her, wasn't supposed to be her mate.

"Let me go," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "Please."

Ryland stared at her, his emotions a vortex of anger, confusion, and something else he wouldn't admit. The bonding wouldn't be denied, but neither would his disdain for her weakness.

“You’re not worthy,” he said coldly, his words cutting through her like a blade.

She flinched, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Then why keep me here?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Why torment me if I’m so unworthy?”

He didn’t answer, his eyes locked on her trembling form. She was his mate, and yet she was everything he despised.

But his wolf disagreed.