Beta''s Runaway Bride: 3 - Xiomara


    The sunlight seems harsher than before as my eyelids flutter open, and my head feels like I drank four


    bottles of dirt-cheap wine. What happened to mest night? Am Iing down with a cold or


    something?


    Must be; I’m smelling sandalwood when I should be smelling mold.


    Well, something is making this motel’s bed and sheets feel extra soft, and I groan while stretching. Only


    when I inhale deeply and open my eyes, do I realize that I am, in fact, not back at my shitty motel.


    ?Qué m****a?


    I’m in an expensive-looking bedroom; a four-poster bed including lush velvet draping, warm browns,


    soft reds, and decadent creams. This would be how I’d decorate my room if my Papa didn’t want


    everything in sterile ck and white.


    But that awe soon gets reced with terror, because I don’t know where the hell I am.


    I jump from the bed, throwing off something heavy and gasping when I look down at my ripped t-shirt.


    Damn it, I don’t remember what happenedst night! Did someone…was I raped?


    I lift up my shirt and when I catch a faint whiff of wolfsbane, my memories slowly return. Three guys


    surrounded me, ripping my clothes off, taking my money - but why would they bring me here afterward?


    ?Dios mío! Are they keeping me as a sex ve?!


    Panic rises in my throat and I pull the shirt from my body, including the damaged bra, before I start


    pacing the floor. But on my second walk in front of the bed, something ck catches my eye. Frowning,


    I slowly bend over to pick it up, only for the sandalwood scent to hit me again.


    It’s a thick leather jacket, the good kind too. But whose is it?


    I throw the jacket down and sigh, marching over to the bathroom to do my business and ssh my face


    while formting a n to escape. There has to be a way out of here, right? When I’m done in the


    bathroom, I walk over to the window only for my stomach to drop.


    I’m on a massive estate; grass, a forest, houses, and buildings as far as I can see. My eyes fall on the


    guards patrolling two at a time at random intervals, but I’m sure I’ll be able to escape them. I’ve done it


    before.


    With my mind made up, I’m about to sneak out of the room when I spot the clothesid out on my bed.


    I frown, certain they weren’t there when I woke up and had my little meltdown. When I approach the t-


    shirt, undies, and jeans, I notice they’re all in my exact size.


    Dread creeps into my heart when the thoughtes to me that someone might have undressed me to


    see my size. I still don’t know where I am or how I got here, but when I went to the bathroom, I couldn’t


    see any blood on me, nor am I hurting down there.


    Did this person maybe try to help me?


    Swallowing deeply, I strip the ruined clothing off and begrudgingly get into a shower (which I secretly


    loved but will never admit) before putting the clean clothes on. Then I take a deep breath and tiptoe out


    of the bedroom.


    The scent of sandalwood is even more potent here, and when I tiptoe downstairs, the smell of bacon


    wafts through the air and the sound of my stomach rumbling immediately gives me away. Damn it all to


    hell.


    I follow the smell and when I walk into the kitchen area, my mouth falls open at the sight in front of me.


    There’s a blonde man at the stove top; he’s wearing a pair of ck cargo pants and a ck t-shirt


    stretched tightly over his obviously muscr body. He’s tall, way taller than me and I’m 5 foot nine and


    it looks disgustingly sinful the way he’s standing there even as he’s just cooking.


    Who is this man?


    “Good morning, Xiomara,” he says my name in a purr and it causes goosebumps to form all over my


    skin. Then he turns his head and looks at me with vacant blue eyes and a knowing smirk that has my


    mouth going dry. “Did you sleep well?”


    Did I sleep well? I slept without a worry for the first time in almost two weeks! But I am not about to tell


    this stranger that - but wait, he knows my name? I walk around to the other side of the kitchen ind to


    face him directly, spying the knife block in the corner.


    “Who are you?” I ask him with narrowed eyes and he pushes a te in front of me without answering.


    “Why don’t we eat before we get into that?” he says before grabbing his own and sitting on the opposite


    end of the ind.


    There’s a sharp knife and fork on my te begging me to use them as weapons, but in the end, my


    hunger wins and I join the stranger in devouring the food handed to me.


    He watches me with a slight smile and a dangerous glint in his cold blue eyes, one that immediately


    gets my rm bells ringing. Not only that, but why is he wearing leather gloves while eating? Is he a


    germaphobe or doesn’t he like getting blood on his hands after bringing women here?


    The thought sends a shiver down my spine as my fear leaves me thinking about a specific episode of


    YOU. What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Zara?!


    When we’re done, he pushes his te away andces his fingers together underneath his chin before


    eyeing me with that look in his eyes again. It sends a shiver through my spine and I mentally chastise


    myself because it wasn’t a cringy shiver at all.


    “I’m going to guess you don’t know who I am,” he says, smirking and I roll my eyes.


    “If I did, would I be this wary of you? I woke up in an unknown house with a stranger serving me


    breakfast-”


    “And yet, you ate it and put on the clothing heid out for you. What happened to your survival


    instincts, Vixen?” he says in a tone that has me thinking he knows something I don’t know, and for


    some reason, I blush.


    I never blush. Ever. Who is this guy?


    Growling, I grab the knife from my te and hold it in front of me. “I’m going to ask again, who the hell


    are you and why am I here?” I say, but that smirk turns into an amused smile and I am immediately


    pissed off. “Tell me!”


    “Or what, hmm?” Are you going to poke me with that little knife and see how far you get?” he teases. “I


    do love a challenge.”


    This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    I’m about to lunge at him with the knife in my hand, but when I look again, I’m face down on the


    counter, with one hand behind me and the other holding the knife above my head. I didn’t even feel


    myself getting mmed against the marble.


    Then my eyes widened, and it hit me - he was never rough at all. He overpowered me within three


    seconds without hurting me.


    “Get off!” I exim, trying to get out of his grasp as every self-defense maneuver escapes me. “Let me


    go!”


    His heavy body leans over me and I feel his hot breath at my ear. “I love how you think you can boss


    me around. I mean, you might be my intended bride, but that’s only a title you’ll possess and nothing


    more.”


    I can feel every inch of his solid body against me, then he steps back from me and I slowly turn around


    to look at him again. This is the man I’ve been running from for days, and now he has me right where I


    was promised I’d be.


    “Maxim…” I trail off as his words wash over me - cold and unfeeling, just like they said he would be. I


    take a step back from him while my heart is a hummingbird in my chest and I try to keep it level while


    failing.


    When my father said he’ll be giving me away to a Beta, I didn’t want to know who he was or what he


    looked like. To me, he would just be a man who imed another trophy as the Alpha’s most trusted.


    That look in Maxim’s eyes tells me I’m not far off, that he has every intention of making me submit to


    him. But he’s got it wrong if he thinks I’m someone who can be easily tamed; I’m going down fighting,


    even if it ends in my death.


    He will soon learn I am no one’s trophy.