The Alpha's Caged Mate

"White roses," my mother announced, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling of the formal dining room. "They symbolize purity and new beginnings."

"A fitting choice, Evelyn," Kaelen replied.

His tone was smooth, completely masking the predator I had just faced upstairs.

We sat at a massive mahogany table that could easily seat twenty. Old Marcus, the former Alpha and Kaelen's father, was delayed on border patrols, leaving the three of us to start the welcome dinner alone.

My mother reached across the polished wood, her fingers resting lightly over Kaelen's knuckles.

"You don't think they are too traditional for the ceremony?" she asked him.

"Tradition holds our pack together," he answered, his golden eyes flicking toward me.

I stared fiercely at my plate, aggressively sawing into the medium-rare meat.

"Elara loves roses," my mother offered, trying to pull me into the conversation.

"Do you?" Kaelen asked.

"I prefer thorns," I muttered, keeping my gaze locked on my food.

"Elara, please," my mother scolded softly. "Show some respect."

"It is fine, Evelyn. I appreciate honesty."

A heavy, hard-soled shoe pressed firmly onto my left foot.

I froze.

"Eat your dinner, Elara," my mother instructed. "The chef prepared this especially for our arrival."

"It's delicious," I lied, forcing my fork down into the steak.

The pressure on my foot increased. The leather sole ground into the thin cotton of my white sock, pinning my toes to the plush rug.

I tried to pull my foot back.

He followed.

"We want everything to be perfect," my mother continued, oblivious to the battle happening below us. "An Alpha's mating ceremony has to be flawless."

"I am a fortunate man," Kaelen murmured.

The shoe slid off my toes and nudged my ankle.

I gripped the handle of my steak knife. My knuckles ached from the strain.

"Your mother mentioned you are studying biology," Kaelen said, cutting a piece of his own steak with one hand.

"Yes," I answered shortly.

"Fascinating choice. Planning to work in a lab?"

"That is the goal."

"Wolves rarely need human medicine. We heal ourselves."

"I plan to work in the human world," I fired back.

"We will see about that," he countered.

My mother frowned. "Elara, do not be difficult. Kaelen is just showing an interest."

"I am just answering his questions," I defended.

"Your tone is entirely too sharp."

"I appreciate a sharp edge," Kaelen intervened, a dangerous spark lighting up his irises. "It makes conversation significantly less boring."

He pressed his shoe harder onto my foot.

I tried to slide my heavy wooden chair backward to escape his reach. The legs dug into the thick rug, refusing to budge.

Kaelen smoothly hooked his other foot around the back leg of my chair, anchoring it in place.

"Are you uncomfortable, Elara?" Kaelen inquired, his voice laced with false sympathy.

"The chair is stiff," I gritted out.

"Posture is important," my mother lectured. "Sit up straight."

I straightened my spine, which only forced my hips closer to the edge of the seat.

Closer to him.

Beneath the thick silk tablecloth, his foot traveled higher. The rough edge of his shoe dragged against my bare shin.

My stomach plummeted.

"She prefers to stay indoors," my mother interjected, patting Kaelen's hand again. "Always buried in her textbooks."

"Is that right?" Kaelen tilted his head. "We prefer physical activity around here."

The toe of his shoe caught the hem of my cotton skirt.

He pushed upward.

"I study hard," I said, my voice barely a croak.

"A commendable trait," he noted.

The fabric bunched around my knees. The cool air of the dining room rushed against my exposed thighs.

I reached under the table with my left hand, aiming to shove his leg away.

He anticipated the movement.

His calf slammed against my wrist, pinning my arm against the wooden leg of my chair.

"What about the seating arrangements?" my mother asked, leaning closer to him.

"Place the elders near the front," Kaelen instructed her, not breaking eye contact with me. "They appreciate the respect."

My right hand clamped around the knife. I pressed the blade down so hard my forearm trembled violently.

*SKREEECH.*

The serrated metal gouged into the fine porcelain plate. The sound sliced through the polite chatter like a siren.

My mother flinched. "Elara! Mind your manners."

"Sorry," I choked out. "Slipped."

"You are ruining the china," she hissed.

"Accidents happen," Kaelen said softly. "Let her be, Evelyn."

My mother melted instantly. She leaned over and pressed a fond kiss to Kaelen's cheek.

"You are too forgiving," she cooed. "Marcus raised a true gentleman."

Bile rose in the back of my throat.

While her lips touched his skin, Kaelen shifted his weight.

His knee drove violently between my legs.

The sudden force knocked my knees completely apart.

I clamped my teeth down on my lower lip. The metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth instantly. I swallowed the scream burning in my throat.

He wedged his thick thigh deep into the space he had just created, locking me flush against my seat.

I was trapped. Pinned by the table above and his unyielding grip below.

"I try to make our guests feel welcome," Kaelen told my mother.

He stared right at me while he said it.

"You are doing a wonderful job," she beamed.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a fraction of a second. A totally unexpected laugh bubbled in my chest—a hysterical, broken sound I barely managed to stifle into a cough.

"Elara, really," my mother sighed.

"Water went down the wrong pipe," I wheezed.

Kaelen flexed his leg. The friction of his slacks against my bare inner thighs sent a chaotic jolt through my nervous system.

"Drink slowly," he advised.

I glared at him, pure hatred burning in my chest.

"I will," I promised.

He leaned back in his ornate chair, picking up his crystal goblet. His leg remained firmly planted between mine, an immovable wedge of muscle and dominance.

"Have you found a suitable dress for the ceremony?" Kaelen asked my mother.

"I have a fitting tomorrow," she replied eagerly. "Silk, champagne-colored. Nothing too flashy."

"I am sure you will look stunning."

"You flatter me, Kaelen."

Under the table, he shifted his knee a fraction of an inch higher.

My fork clattered onto the table.

"Clumsy tonight, aren't we?" Kaelen remarked.

"I am just tired," I lied, gripping the edge of the mahogany table to anchor myself.

"The journey was long," my mother agreed. "Though she slept the entire car ride."

"Perhaps the altitude is affecting her," Kaelen suggested.

"Perhaps," I murmured.

"You should rest after dinner," he told me. "You wouldn't want to collapse."

"I am perfectly fine."

"You don't look fine."

My mother finally turned her full attention away from the future Alpha and looked across the table at me.

Her brow furrowed in annoyance, but then her expression shifted to confusion.

I swallowed hard, feeling the heat radiating from Kaelen's trapped limb beneath the table.

"It's just warm in here," I stammered, anticipating her question.

"It is sixty-eight degrees," Kaelen corrected effortlessly.

My mother leaned closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied my sweating forehead and trembling shoulders.

"Why is your face so red?" she asked sharply. "Do you have a fever?"