Chapter 5 FIVE

The tribute caravan stops at Silver Creek's borders just as dawn breaks. I clutch my identification papers in trembling hands, trying to steady my breathing. In a few moments, everything I am – Alora Mitchell – will be reduced to one word: slave.

"Strip." The command comes from Master Kane, the tribute master. His cold eyes sweep over the six of us lined up outside the inspection tent. "Everything is off. Now."

The other girls begin disrobing, shoulders hunched in shame. I force my fingers to move, untying the simple gray shift they gave us for travel. The morning air bites at my exposed skin, but it's nothing compared to the burning inside me. Three days of travel have made controlling my heat symptoms harder, the constant proximity to unmated males testing my limits.

"Wolfless." Master Kane spits the word as he stops in front of me. "Let's see what the Beast is getting for his charity."

I let the shift fall, fighting to keep my eyes downcast, submissive. To suppress the urge to claw his smirking face. The other tribute girls eye me with a mixture of pity and disgust – a wolfless slave, lowest of the low.

"Inside." He grabs my arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "You're first, little one."

The inspection tent reeks of fear and humiliation. A raised platform dominates the center, surrounded by mirrors. My heart stutters – mirrors that will reflect any slip in my illusion.

"Up." Master Kane points to the platform. "Present yourself properly."

I've been trained for this. Three days of instruction on proper slave posture. Feet apart. Arms behind back. Head bowed. Every inch of me is on display.

"Well, well." A new voice makes me stiff. Female. Powerful. "This is the wolfless tribute?"

"Lady Victoria." Master Kane bows deeply. "Yes, this is Mitchell. Alora."

Heels click against the wooden platform as she circles me. I can smell her – pure Alpha female, her scent marking her as high-ranking within the pack. And something else... something that makes my wolf want to snarl. She reeks of ambition.

"Quite pretty, for a defect." Her cold fingers grasp my chin, forcing my head up. "Open your mouth."

I obey, enduring the humiliation as she checks my teeth like I'm livestock. Her grip tightens painfully.

"Good bone structure. Decent breeding, despite the... flaw." She releases my chin. "Turn around. Bend over."

My cheeks burn as I comply, presenting myself for inspection. Behind me, I hear more footsteps entering the tent. Male voices. My wolf stirs, interested despite my shame.

"Remarkable control," Victoria muses. "Most wolfless ones can't stop themselves from shaking. But this one..." Her nails rake down my spine, testing, probing. "She's almost too composed."

"Perhaps we should test that composure." A male voice, thick with cruel amusement. "See how well she holds position under... stress."

"No." The new voice hits me like a physical blow. Deep. Powerful. Carrying enough Alpha command to make my knees buckle. "Leave us. All of you."

The tent empties instantly. Even Victoria's protests die under the weight of that command. I stay frozen in position, hardly daring to breathe.

Heavy boots circle the platform. He's huge – I can sense his presence like a storm about to break. Every instinct screams at me to look, but I keep my eyes down.

"Stand up." His voice is softer now, but no less commanding. "Turn around."

I straighten slowly, turning to face him. My eyes catch glimpses as they stay lowered – black boots, powerful thighs straining against leather pants, a broad chest covered by a dark shirt. But I don't raise them higher. Can't risk meeting his gaze.

"Look at me, little wolf."

My heart stops. Little wolf. Not slave. Not wolfless.

"I..." I swallow hard. "Slaves aren't permitted to—"

A large hand grabs my chin, tilting my face up with surprising gentleness. And finally, finally I see him.

Alpha Alexander Stone is nothing like I imagined. And so much worse.

He's beautiful in the way an approaching storm is beautiful – wild, dangerous, magnificent. Silver eyes lock onto mine, gleaming with intelligence and something darker. His face could have been carved from marble – all sharp angles and perfect planes, framed by thick black hair with a single silver streak. A scar cuts through his left eyebrow, somehow making him more devastating rather than less.

But it's his expression that terrifies me. He's looking at me like he can see straight through every wall, every lie, every carefully constructed defense.

"Interesting," he murmurs, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "Very interesting."

"My Lord," I whisper, trying to look away. His grip tightens.

"They say you're wolfless." His head tilts, nostrils flaring slightly. "They say you're broken. Defective." A dark smile curves his lips. "They're lying."

Terror grips me. "I don't—"

"Shh." His thumb presses against my lips, silencing me. "Your first lesson, little wolf. Never lie to me. I'll always know." His other hand slides into my hair, gripping tight enough to make me gasp. "And I punish liars most severely."

"Please," I breathe against his thumb. "I am wolfless. The papers—"

"The papers lie." He leans closer, his scent overwhelming me – pine and smoke and pure, dominant Alpha. My heat stirs, responding to him despite my terror. "But we'll discover your truths soon enough. Won't we, little wolf?"

His grip gentles, becoming almost a caress. "Welcome to Silver Creek, Alora." The way he says my name makes it sound like a promise. Or a threat. "You belong to me now."

And Goddess help me, my wolf purrs.