The Chosen Luna novel Chapter 3

"I want Adrienne," he responds almost immediately, causing me to physically restrain the gag squirming to escape my throat. At the mention of my name, I feel the color drain from my face. "She's the one and I'm tired of waiting for both her and my title."

A deep hum reaches my ears, what the Alpha always does when he's considering something. "Then wait no longer. I'll have the wedding moved up to Thursday. Since there's no mate bond to bind you, vows will work just as well. Plus, you'll have more time to get acquainted with her. Maybe even-"

"There's not going to be a wedding," I announce, seething after barging through the door on impulse. There's no way I can stand out there and silently listen to my future being decided for me. Not anymore. I'm sick of being a ghost in my own life.

Two pairs of eyes turn on me. One is Nathan's-- a light blue that pairs nicely with neatly combed black hair. The other pair are a darker blue and belong to his father, whose once inky black hair is now peppered with grey. Evidence of the stress that comes attached to the title.

"Excuse me?" Alpha Andre stands up from his leather office chair. He has squared shoulders and a tall stature that would be hard to beat. One thing is for certain, and it's that he's used to looking down on people, not vice versa. He shoots me that disappointing gaze that he's mastered over the years, making even the most arrogant of wolves ashamed of themselves.

I swallow, fighting to keep my attitude under control. Too many times I've mouthed off to him and seen the consequences. But keeping this new leaf turned over is proving to be quite challenging.

"I'm not marrying him or anyone else," I seethe again, planting my feet firmly in place. He can't possibly think that he can force me into this. Can he? He's held control over me my entire life, but surely there's a line he won't cross. There has to be.

To my right, Nathan lets out a frustrated moan.

"Why can't you just cooperate for once?" He whines at me. "I thought we were past this. I can give you everything you want! Who turns down the title of Luna?" He looks to his father for help with pleading yet demanding eyes.

He's never grown up. He still reminds me of that same child who threatened to throw a tantrum if he didn't get his dessert. Or the one who threatened to have my fingers cut off if I tried to play with a toy he'd forgotten he even had.

"You can't give me shit or you wouldn't have treated me like it my whole life," I shoot back, feeling a growl starting to rumble deep in my chest. He's always thought of himself as royalty and everyone else peasants. But in my eyes, a king without a crown isn't a king at all.

Alpha Andre snarls at me for my backlash. "Watch your damn tongue." He then turns to his son, confidence thick in the air around him. "She'll do whatever I say." He sits back down in his chair, leaning back and watching me with a calculating look. One that reminds me of a beady eyed snake in the grass.

"Won't you Adrienne?" He asks in that sickly sweet, ominous voice. I hate that voice, that tone. I hate it with all of my being and I always have. It makes me sick. Sicker than imagining a future with Nathan.

I clench my jaw tightly, my hands curling into fists. "And if I don't?"

He tilts his head down and smiles darkly, clasping his hands loosely together. "Then you'll be locked up again. You wouldn't want that, would you? I'd think it gets awful lonely down there."

My feet move mechanically towards the door, more than ready to leave. But not without knocking a potted plant off a nearby table first. The sound of the clay shattering on the floor is amplified by the thick silence of the room.

"Bitch," I mumble under my breath.

"What was that?" Nathan snaps. It surprises me that he doesn't let his daddy handle this for him, too.

I start to prepare a sarcastically sweet response, but instead I decide to voice my true feelings. There's no longer a reason to keep my mouth shut.

I whirl around on my heel to face him. My eyes lock with his, shooting daggers dripping with venom.

"Bitch. That's what I said," I snap, loud and clear, "You're a fucking bitch and I hope and pray that one day comes when your rotting and bloated body is found floating in the river, eyeless because the fish have already picked them out."

It feels as though my skin is on fire and my lungs ache for air. I mean every single word of what I say and my tone is more than laced with hatred; it's seeping it. Pure and livid hatred.