Object of Desire

Calla’s POV

“Fall for me?” I snorted bitterly to myself, the sound scraping painfully against the back of my dry throat as Corbin continued to crush my chin. His thick, unyielding fingers dug mercilessly into the soft underside of my jaw, forcing my head up so that I had no choice but to look directly into his flushed, furious face. The sheer absurdity of his accusation hung heavy in the damp, freezing air of the laundry corridor. The idea that a man like Vaughn could ever harbor feelings for someone like me was beyond laughable. I knew exactly what Alpha Vaughn saw when he looked at me. I had seen it in the dark, imposing depths of his eyes just moments ago. His gaze held absolutely nothing but pure, unadulterated disdain. When he looked at me, he didn't see a woman. He only saw the thick layer of dirt layered on my pale skin. He only saw the ugly, jagged lines of the criminal brand seared permanently into the fragile flesh of my wrist, marking me as a dangerous outcast.

But as I stood there trapped in the dim hallway, staring into Corbin’s bloodshot, cruel eyes, a fierce spark of defiance ignited in my chest. He reeked of cheap wine, stale sweat, and the sour stench of his own fragile ego. I refused to let him break my spirit any further. He had taken my freedom, my status, and my dignity, but he would not take my self-worth.

“Alpha Vaughn might not like me,” I firmly told my haughty captor, forcing the words out through the agonizing pressure of his grip. “But I am worthy of love and affection.”

Corbin sneered, his hot, foul breath washing over my face. He was clearly drunk, fiercely defying his drunk attempts to manipulate the emotional remnants of our freshly broken mate bond. He wanted me to crawl, to beg, to submit to him out of some pathetic lingering devotion. He wanted to hurt me until I had nothing left in this world but his twisted version of mercy.

Wanting to hurt him back, wanting to strike at the very core of his fragile masculinity, I openly mocked his incompetence as an Alpha. I didn't care about the consequences in that brief, fiery moment. I sneered right into his flushed, furious face, my voice dripping with pure venom.

“Maybe that’s why you were so weak,” I spat, my eyes locked dead onto his. “You couldn’t even sense your own pup in my belly.”

The words hit him like a physical blow. Furious at the blatant insult to his pride, Corbin's face contorted with grotesque rage. The veins in his neck bulged visibly against his collar.

“Insolent bitch!” he screamed, his voice cracking with unhinged fury. Spittle flew from his lips, landing on my cheek.

He violently grabbed me. His hands clamped down on my shoulders, hauling my battered, exhausted body hard against his own. The sudden impact knocked the breath completely from my lungs. His heavy hands immediately began to grope me with brutal, punishing intent. His thick fingers pinched my breasts through the thin, damp fabric of my slave rags, twisting the sensitive flesh until I gasped in pain. I tried to push against his chest, but his strength was overwhelming. He aggressively pressed his hard, aroused length directly against my stomach, grinding his hips into me to ensure I felt exactly what he wanted to do to me.

“Perhaps you need a reminder of who your master is…” he breathed heavily, his sour, wine-soaked breath ghosting over my ear, making my skin crawl with intense revulsion.

I shuddered in profound disgust against his hard, violating erection. The sheer size and heat of him pressing through our clothes made my stomach heave violently. The broken mate bond screamed in agony inside my chest, a phantom pain clashing with the horrifying reality of his physical assault. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I needed to get away from him right now, before he dragged me into an empty room and forced himself on me. I rapidly thought of an escape, my panicked eyes darting down the shadowy hallway.

“Sloane!” I suddenly called out in a blind panic, widening my eyes and staring fixedly at the empty space directly behind his broad shoulder, acting exactly as if the Luna were standing right there witnessing his infidelity.

The trick worked perfectly. Believing his new bride had caught him in the act of assaulting his former mate, Corbin flinches and turns to look. The tight grip on my arms loosened for just a fraction of a second.

I didn't hesitate. I ripped myself out of his grasp, leaving a piece of my ragged sleeve tearing in his fist, and fled desperately toward the kitchens. My bare feet slapped wildly against the cold stone floor, my lungs burning as I sprinted away from his grasping hands.

Behind me, Corbin recovered from the shock. His furious roar echoed off the stone walls. I could hear him stomping his boots in frustration. He shouts a dark, booming promise into the night, swearing at the top of his lungs that he will absolutely get back at me for this humiliation.

True to his vindictive word, my brief escape did not save me. Later that night, the heavy wooden doors of the servants' quarters were kicked open. I am forcefully dragged by guards out into the cold night. They hauled my struggling body directly into the center of the lavishly decorated reception pavilion. The contrast between my miserable reality and the pack's wealth was sickening. Golden chandeliers hung from the high rafters, casting a warm, brilliant glow over tables laden with roasted meats and expensive pastries. The elite guests of the pack lounged on plush velvet cushions, draped in fine silks and glittering jewels, drinking from crystal goblets. The festive music completely drowned out the sound of my ragged breathing.

At the head of the pavilion sat Corbin and Sloane, elevated on a raised dais. Sloane's eyes lit up with malicious glee the moment she saw me. Wanting to assert her dominance in front of the gathered elite, she forces me to my knees on the hard floor. The impact sent a jolt of pain up my spine.

"Pour my tea, slave," Sloane ordered, her voice loud enough to carry over the murmuring guests. She leaned back in her ornate chair, a smug, cruel smile playing on her painted lips.

A servant shoved a heavy porcelain teapot into my trembling hands. The ceramic was piping hot, burning my palms, but I didn't dare drop it. I shuffled forward on my bruised knees, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. I carefully tilted the pot, aiming the steaming spout at the delicate china cup resting on the low table in front of her.

As the fragrant, boiling liquid began to pour into the cup, Sloane suddenly jerks back in her chair. She knocked her own knee against the table and deliberately shrieks at the top of her lungs.

"Ouch! You splattered me!"

Before I could even process her blatant lie, Sloane snatched the teacup from the table. In a calculated display of cruelty, Sloane throws the remaining boiling liquid directly over my exposed skin.

The scalding tea hit my chest and neck. The burn was instantaneous and blinding. I screamed in agony, clutching at my wet collar as the blistering heat seared into my flesh, turning the skin an angry, inflamed red. But Sloane wasn't finished. She stood up and violently kicks me backward onto the floor. My head bounced off the polished wood, making my vision swim.

The festive music abruptly stopped. Gasps rang out through the pavilion as hundreds of wealthy guests turned to look at the commotion.

Seizing this manufactured moment, Corbin rises from his throne with a malevolent, triumphant grin. He looked down at me bleeding and burning on the floor, his eyes shining with twisted satisfaction. He had promised to make me pay, and this was his grand stage.

"Guards!" he bellows to the cheering crowd, throwing his arms out wide. "Seize this slave and bring me a whip. We will show our guests how we enforce discipline in our pack!"

A roar of dark approval went up from the drunken elites. Terror completely grips my heart, freezing the blood in my veins. My breath came in short, hyperventilating gasps. Two massive guards immediately stepped forward, hauling me up by my underarms. I kicked and struggled, but I was entirely powerless against their brute strength. They hauled me to the tall center pole that supported the pavilion's main tent. They slammed my chest against the rough wood, binding my hands tightly above my head with thick, coarse ropes. The fibers dug mercilessly into my raw wrists.

I turned my head, pressing my wet cheek against the splintering wood, my vision blurring with terrified tears. Hundreds of wealthy, jeering eyes watch my impending torture. They pointed, laughed, and whispered, eagerly awaiting the spectacle. I was nothing but an animal to them, a broken thing to be beaten for their evening entertainment.

The crowd parted slightly as the pack's executioner steps forward. He was a mountain of a man, his face hidden beneath a dark hood. In his massive hand, he uncoiled a heavy leather whip. The sharp crack of the leather snapping against the floor sent a violent shudder down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the agonizing tear of the leather across my bare back. I prayed to the Goddess it would end quickly.

Just as the executioner steps forward, raising his muscular arm to deliver the first devastating strike, a sudden, suffocating pressure slammed down on the entire pavilion. The heavy, drunken cheers died instantly in their throats. The massive crowd parts in absolute silence, scrambling backward to clear a wide path, driven away by a primal instinct they couldn't control.

I opened my eyes, my heart pounding erratically against the wooden pole.

Alpha Vaughn, exuding terrifying dominance, strides into the pavilion. He didn't just walk; he commanded the very air around him, pressing down on my shoulders, making it difficult to even breathe. He was dressed impeccably, his tailored suit emphasizing the broad, lethal lines of his body. But it wasn't his intimidating physique that made my stomach drop—it was who he was holding. His massive, scarred hand was wrapped gently around the tiny fingers of the little girl I had saved earlier in the mud. Cleo.

I immediately flush hot with intense embarrassment. The heat rising in my cheeks had absolutely nothing to do with the fresh burns on my skin. I deeply hate that the innocent, sweet child has to see me humiliated and tied to a whipping post like a dog. I was covered in dirt, tea, and my own tears. I tried to turn my face away, wishing the wooden floor would just open up and swallow me whole so she wouldn't have to witness my degradation.

On the dais, Corbin’s smug grin faltered. He hurriedly smoothed the front of his jacket and scrambled down the steps, plastering a frantic, overly polite smile on his face.

"Alpha Vaughn!" Corbin greeted loudly, trying to reclaim the attention of the room. "My bride and I are deeply honored by your presence! We looked for you earlier to properly welcome you..."

Corbin held out his hand, expecting the powerful Alpha to stop and acknowledge him. Vaughn completely ignores Corbin’s frantic, polite greetings. He didn't even blink. He physically brushes right past the lesser Alpha's outstretched hand, leaving Corbin standing there looking utterly foolish in front of his entire pack.

Nearby, Sloane stepped forward, attempting to play the gracious hostess. Then her eyes landed on the little girl holding Vaughn's hand. Sloane gasps in sheer terror, the color violently draining from her face. She finally recognizes the little girl she had previously ordered her guards to run off the property. The child she had so callously dismissed was the daughter of the most lethal Alpha in the territory.

Panicking, Sloane forced a trembling smile. When Sloane attempts to reach out to appease her, hoping to silence the child before she could tell her father what had happened, Cleo angrily bats the Luna's hand away. The resounding smack echoed in the dead silent pavilion. Sloane stumbled back, clutching her stinging hand against her chest, her eyes wide with mounting horror.

Vaughn didn't even spare the trembling Luna a single glance. His chilling, lethal gaze locks directly onto me.

I stopped breathing. His dark eyes swept over my body. He took in the ugly red burn blistering on my collarbone from Sloane's tea. He took in the dark bruises forming on my arms. He looked at the heavy ropes biting into my wrists, and finally, his gaze shifted to the two massive guards who were still standing beside the pole, holding me in place.

The air in the pavilion dropped ten degrees. The oppressive weight of his aura flared, heavy and dark.

"Let go," he commands.

He didn't yell. The two words were spoken quietly, but his voice was dripping with such crushing, overwhelming Alpha dominance that the very foundation of the pavilion seemed to rattle. The guards didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. They hastily drop my arms and scramble backward in fear, their heads bowed submissively as they retreated into the crowd, desperate to get out of the direct line of his wrath.

Freed from their iron grip, my weak, battered legs finally gave out. I fall to my knees on the hard floor, gasping for air as the heavy ropes slithered down my raw wrists.

The moment my knees hit the ground, Cleo immediately breaks away from her father's side. She ran forward on her little legs and threw herself at me, running forward to cling tightly to my dirty skirts.

"Mommy!" the little girl cries out loudly for all the shocked guests to hear.

I stare down in consternation, my heart breaking right in two. This beautiful, wealthy child in her pristine dress was ruining her clothes against the mud and tea staining my rags. Despite the immense danger of the situation, I gently brush the child's soft curls away from her forehead, completely lacking the heart to push the sweet girl away. I couldn't reject the only source of warmth I had felt in months.

Corbin instantly steps forward, his face red with indignation. He couldn't stand being ignored, and he certainly couldn't stand seeing Vaughn interfere with his property. He loudly protests to the VIP guest, pointing an accusing finger at me, shouting that I am merely a criminal slave and must be punished.

Vaughn lets out a low, vibrating growl that echoed through the floorboards. Without a single word of warning, Vaughn steps into his space and physically shoves Corbin backward with brutal force. Corbin stumbled wildly, his arms flailing as he crashed hard into the dais steps.

Facing the shocked, gathered crowd of elites, Vaughn stood tall, his broad chest rising and falling slowly. He didn't even look at the pathetic man groveling on the floor. Vaughn’s voice slices through the pavilion like pure ice, silencing every single whisper in the room.

"From this moment on, this woman is my bride. I’m taking her with me. And I don't accept No as an answer, Alpha Corbin."