Bound to the Rogue Alpha

"Go scrub the scent of the Lawson pack off your skin. I can wait."

I flinched, my heels catching on the uneven stone floor of the Harbor View Apartment. My heart was a rabbit drumming against my ribs. I wasn't just a bride; I was a peace offering in a slip dress, and the predator in front of me was finally closing the cage door.

I felt like a stray cornered by a High Alpha. Panic was a metallic taste in my mouth, and I was doing a damn poor job of masking it. I didn't know how to exist in the same air as this man—my "husband," a stranger who smelled like the coming of a winter storm.

Logan leaned against the scarred wooden table, his dark eyes tracking my every twitch. To him, I was probably just a shivering, scentless omegas.

He let out a low, rough chuckle that vibrated in the small room. "Relax, Brooke. I’m not going to tear into you. Not yet. We need to talk."

I crossed my arms over my chest, my fingers digging into my own skin as I drifted toward him. Every instinct told me to run, but I had nowhere to go. I’d traded my life for Ruth’s. I was bound to this man by blood and law now.

"Talk about what?" I asked, my voice coming out thinner than I wanted.

Logan hooked a heavy wooden chair with one hand and slid it toward me with effortless strength. "Sit."

He dragged another chair so close our knees almost brushed. He sat, his massive frame dwarfing the furniture. "I don’t like pretty words or pack politics. I know you didn’t choose this. I know being sold to an outcast like me wasn't your 'happily ever after.'"

"Is it that obvious?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

"Relationships don't happen because of a signature on a scroll," I added, trying to find some shred of Lawson pride. "We’re strangers. We need... time. Space."

I felt like an idiot the moment the words left my lips. Logan knew exactly who he was in the eyes of the Citadel. He knew Madison had spent the morning laughing at his 'failure.' He knew I was the consolation prize.

Logan narrowed his eyes, studying me. He watched the way I bit my lip, the way my gaze darted to the door and back. He looked like he was reading a map written in my fear.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice dropping into a cold, flat tone. "I’m not interested in playing house. We’re a mated pair to the Citadel and the Lawson borders—nothing more. You stay out of my business, and I stay out of yours. We live in the same den, we keep the peace, and that’s the end of it. I spend most of my nights in the wild or at the fighting pits. I want my freedom. You can have yours. I won't track your scent, and I won't ask who you're with."

He stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket. Then, as if he couldn't help himself, he leaned down, slamming his hands onto the armrests of my chair. He pinned me there, his chest inches from mine.

"Watching a man strip is a dangerous hobby, Brooke," he growled, his breath hot against my neck. It smelled like cedar and something raw, something ancient. "But if you're looking for me to satisfy the 'needs' of a Lawson girl, I’m a husband who knows how to follow a contract."

The scent of him—pure, unadulterated Alpha—made my scalp prickle and my stomach flip.

"I’m fine," I hissed through clenched teeth, refusing to look down.

Logan’s expression shifted, turning dark and sharp. His gaze dropped to my stomach for a fraction of a second, a warning flashing in his eyes. "Since we're being honest: there's one rule. Just one." He took a breath, his voice turning into a lethal whisper. "I won't have my name dragged through the mud of the Shifter Citadel. I don't ever want to find out my wife is carrying another wolf’s pup."

Loyalty. It was the only currency a rogue had left. He’d clearly heard the stories about Madison—how she treated mates like fashion accessories.

"I know my duty," I answered firmly, finally meeting his gaze. "As long as this bond holds, I am yours alone. Just keep your word. Stay out of my life."

The playful, predatory smirk faded. He straightened up, stepping out of my personal space as if the air between us had suddenly turned to ice.

He arched an eyebrow, looking at me like I was a puzzle he’d just realized was missing pieces.

"You're not Madison Lawson, are you?"