The Snapped Chain

Tessa's POV

*Because bad girls get punished.*

My breath catches in my throat the second his loaded words sink into my mind. The raw, gravelly vibration of his deep voice hits me like a physical strike. A heavy, throbbing tingle sparks right between my legs, my clit pulsing in frantic time with my racing heartbeat. Slick, hot wetness slides from my core, pooling heavily against the thin cotton of my panties. He is hovering agonizingly close to me. His broad, muscular chest cages me against the sleek leather passenger seat of the Lamborghini. The rich, intoxicating scent of his wolf wraps around me, suffocating and impossibly potent. It smells of fresh pine mixed with something much darker, wilder—a thick musk that screams of pure, unfiltered male arousal. My lungs drink it in, filling with his scent and short-circuiting my brain.

I look up into Kaelen's deep eyes. The mysterious hue is eclipsed by a dark, shadowed, primal hunger flashing in his irises. He is fighting a vicious internal battle. The dominant Alpha inside him wants to claim, wants to take, pulling right at my vulnerable, wolfless soul. I am trapped in a breathless trance. I swear to the moon goddess he is slowly inching forward. Breath by shallow breath, the space between our mouths vanishes. He is intent on pressing his lips to mine and kissing me. My own lips part involuntarily, chasing the radiant heat of his mouth. The sexual tension hanging in the confined cabin is so thick it could be cut with a knife. My pulse roars in my ears. He is actually going to kiss me.

But suddenly, as if a thick, invisible wall slams down between us, his darkened eyes flicker away from my parted lips. His intense gaze drops down to the black nylon seat belt stretched securely over my trembling shoulder. The harsh reality of where we are, and what he is supposed to do tonight—mate with my twin sister in front of the pack—seems to brutally snap him out of the trance.

He exhales a sharp, frustrated breath that ghosts hotly over my flushed cheek. He jerks his large body back out of the car, ripping his intoxicating heat away from me.

"You make it very hard to keep my word, Tessa," he grumbles lowly under his breath.

The cryptic words barely reach my ringing ears before he firmly closes the heavy passenger door, leaving me dazed. I sit frozen in the luxurious leather seat. The friction of his hand on my upper thigh just moments ago has left a phantom brand burning on my skin. The heavy, aching throb between my legs refuses to subside, pulsing with every beat of my heart. Confused and flustered by his hushed warning, I wait for him to round the hood of the car and slide into the low driver's seat. I desperately want to ask him what he means. What word is he struggling to keep? To whom did he give it? He is my best friend. He is one of the rare few in this ruthless pack who cares about my existence. Yet right now, looking at the harsh, rigid lines of his profile, he feels like a dangerous stranger.

The second he shuts his door, he refuses to look at me. He shakes his head stubbornly, his jaw set in unyielding stone, and aggressively starts the roaring engine of the Lamborghini. The powerful machine growls to life with a fierce snarl, the heavy vibration rumbling right up through the seat and humming against my sensitive thighs, doing nothing to help my unwanted arousal.

The silence stretching between us grows heavy and suffocating as we speed down the winding roads of the pack territory. The passing trees blur into streaks of green, but my focus is locked on the man beside me. I steal nervous, rapid glances at his sharp profile. I acutely notice his rigidly locked jaw, the frantic jumping muscle in his tanned cheek, and the furious, white-knuckled grip his large hands have on the leather steering wheel. The thick veins in his strong forearms stand out against his skin, flexing with every slight turn. He is deeply troubled by something he outright refuses to voice.

I keep staring, unable to look away from the raw frustration radiating from his massive frame in waves. Finally, unable to bear my quiet scrutiny a second longer, he shatters the quiet air.

"Stop staring at me like that."

I jump slightly in my seat, startled by the sudden harshness in his tone. I flush a deep crimson, the heat rushing all the way up to the tips of my ears as I stammer over my own words. "I—staring at you like how?"

"Like you want me to do what we both know we want," he murmurs back.

His voice drops into a soft, husky tone sending a sharp, electric shiver racing straight down my spine. The blunt confession hits me square in the chest, stealing the air from my lungs. He knows. With his heightened Alpha senses, he can undoubtedly smell the sweet, slick scent of my arousal filling the confined space of the expensive car. And worse, he is openly admitting he feels the exact same consuming lust. The unspoken desires hang heavily in the tense air between us, wrapping around my throat like a velvet noose.

We finally pull into the long, manicured driveway of Gemma's sprawling house. The gravel crunches loudly under the wide tires as he abruptly throws the sports car into park. Our eyes lock intensely once again. The raw, predatory hunger is back, burning like wildfire in his irises. His jaw clenches so tight I genuinely fear his teeth might crack under the immense pressure.

"Go get that necklace before I change my mind," he warns me, his dark gaze darkening with a dangerous, possessive edge making my core clench.

My heart skips a frantic beat. Before I can open my mouth to speak, to beg him to explain what the hell is going on in his head, he stops me dead.

"Don't ask any more questions sparrow, trust me you don't want the answer to them."

Sparrow. The familiar pet name makes my chest ache with a bittersweet pang. I swallow hard against the dry lump lodged in my throat. I simply nod, unable to formulate a single coherent argument, and pop the door handle. I step out into the crisp, biting morning air. The sudden chill does nothing to cool the raging fire in my veins, but my stomach ties itself into a thousand painful knots at the intimidating sight of the grand front door.

Gemma is Sienna's best friend, and she hates my guts just as much as my sister does. She feeds off my twin's toxic energy, using my wolfless status as a punching bag for her own amusement. Because I lack a wolf, I have no inner voice to guide me, no enhanced strength to fight back, leaving me reliant on basic human instincts that scream at me to turn around and run. I force myself to walk up the paved stone path, every step feeling heavier than the last. Before I can step onto the porch and raise my knuckles to knock on the heavy mahogany door, it swings open.

Gemma stands in the doorway, wearing a wicked, mocking grin on her contoured face. The stench of her cloying, sweet perfume assaults my nose. She launches her verbal assault, zeroing in on my biggest insecurity without missing a beat.

"Well, look who finally dragged herself here," she sneers, her cold eyes raking up and down my form with pure disgust. "Sienna already mind-linked me to warn me about your pathetic arrival. I guess being a wolfless freak really does make you painfully slow, doesn't it?"

I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. Catching sight of the shiny red car idling in her driveway behind me, she lets out a cruel, degrading snort.

"I see Alpha Kaelen is still doing charity work," she mocks, her voice dripping with venom. "Babysitting the pack's weakest link must be so exhausting for him."

I clench my fists tightly at my sides, my nails digging half-moons into my palms. "I just need Sienna's necklace, Gemma."

She shifts her weight, her lips curling into a smile of fake sweetness. "Of course. But you'll have to come all the way up to my bedroom to help me physically look for it. I just can't seem to remember where I dropped the stupid thing."

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickle in sharp warning at her wide, hollow smile. Her eyes are dead, devoid of any genuine warmth or innocence. She is deliberately setting a trap.

"I can wait outside on the porch while you grab it," I politely offer, crossing my arms over my chest to ward off her toxic energy.

Gemma scoffs loudly, viciously taunting me. "What's the matter, Tessa? Are you scared of my house? Or are you just that much of a coward?"

Knowing perfectly well Sienna will give me hell at home if I refuse her demands and return to Kaelen's car empty-handed, I swallow my mounting dread. The impending doom settles heavily in my chest. I have no choice. I step over the threshold and follow her up the winding, thickly carpeted stairs.

Her pink room looks like a sickeningly sweet teenage nightmare. The bright walls are plastered with dozens of smiling, happy pictures of her and Sienna. They are hugging at the lake, laughing at the mall, sharing secrets at pack bonfires. It is a sharp, physically painful reminder of the close, sisterly bond I have always been denied by my own twin. Sienna treats Gemma like her true blood, and treats me like dirt beneath her expensive shoes. I tear my eyes away from the framed photos, my chest aching with an old, familiar grief.

"Check over there by the dresser," Gemma orders lazily, waving her hand toward a cluttered vanity.

I walk over and search aimlessly through the designated drawers and velvet boxes exactly where she points. I feel like a fool sifting through her expensive makeup palettes and tangled, cheap jewelry. After several agonizing minutes of finding nothing, she claps her hands together behind me.

"I found it!" she exclaims in a high-pitched, fake, chirpy tone.

I straighten my aching back and turn around. The delicate, silver necklace glistens brightly in her manicured hand. The intricate metal catches the morning sunlight streaming through her bedroom window. But her cruel smile still doesn't reach her dead, calculating eyes. She looks exactly like a predator playing with its trapped food.

She stretches her slender arm out, dangling the jewelry in the space between us as if to politely give it to me.

Relief washes over me. I step forward and reach out to finally take it.

But the exact microsecond my fingers brush the cool metal and grasp the delicate chain, Gemma's eyes flash with pure malice. She closes her fist tight and viciously, harshly tugs it back toward herself with unapologetic force.

The fragile, pretty metal links of the silver necklace snap under the sudden, brutal tension.

The tiny, sharp crack of the breaking silver rings loudly in my ears. A death sentence wrapped in a single sound. Gemma drops her hands to her sides. She lets out a loud, fake gasp, her hands flying up to cover her mouth as her eyes widen in manufactured, dramatic shock.

"Oh Tessa! What did you do!"