Chapter 2

Claire's POV

The people behind him gasped, their face one of shock, that no one would be so stupid as to reject an alpha's son and most certainly not Dylan. But that didn't count for anything to me. My heart pounded in my chest, a bitter rush of defiance mixing with the rush of defending myself. The thought of being bound to someone like him made my stomach churn, he would make my life hell. So let them deal with it.

As for Dylan, his face turned into one of unadulterated anger, his own face twisted with shock, like he couldn't even think that he would be rejected. His face looked as if he gulped something acidic, his lips hardly parted, struggling to produce any words whatsoever. I simply stood there watching him, stern and unmoving, not able to find an ounce of guilt. His silence lingered for an instant, and I stood locked, still fixed on his gaze with a quiet, unyielding assurance.

Behind him, Dinah stood grinning smugly, her eyes sparkling with something I couldn't quite identify. She looked satisfied with the way things were going, though I couldn't tell if it was because he'd rejected me or that it apparently finally gave her an advantage. Whatever it was, I didn't care. I was too caught up in the triumph of saying no to him to notice much about her.

Dylan's room, while able to accommodate a decent portion of the crowd, surprised me with its empty sterility. I had pictured something more decadent, more over-the-top, but the room was plain. For him, it was nearly jarring. A minimalist. The idea nagged at me, but I set it aside, concentrating instead on what was happening in front of me.

A murmur began to circulate through the crowd, the whisper of shock and hushed gossip wafting around me in a cloud. I couldn't help but become annoyed at their curious stares, their raised voices in hushed argument. They could have just left me alone and continued watching, but I couldn't manage to keep rage simmering in my chest.

"You bitch! How could you?" Dylan's voice was gentle but venomous. The force of his words was a slap in the face, and adrenaline flooded me. The crowd froze, all eyes on us. I felt their eyes on me like burning coals, waiting for what would happen next.

I didn't budge.

I shrugged, pretty much ambivalent. "What would you have me do?"

His voice rose, his words slicing like knives. "Why didn't you let me do the rejecting?"

I glared back at him, letting the force of his anger cascade over me but not frightening me. Only the feeling of strength that resulted from finally telling the truth. "I do not want to be your mate!" My voice was unyielding, the authority of it slicing through the tension in the air.

The words sliced into him like knives, and I saw it, the twist of his face into a sickening mixture of shock and rage. "You thought. that I would take you as a mate?" he thundered, his voice climbing, almost sneering now. The sneer in his tone crawled over my skin.

I did not have a chance to register the next few words before he jerked me toward him, his grip savage and punishing. The sudden pull caused stabbing sensations in my scalp, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. I was racing inside, but I would not accord him the vulnerability he so wanted to see.

His voice, barely above a whisper, was threatening. "You must be extremely stupid to believe I will ever wish to claim you as a mate." His tone was cold, black, and had an edge of something more sinister.

The pain was almost intolerable, but I refused to allow myself to cry. Not here, not before him, not before them.

Then, before I had a chance to prepare myself, his hand slapped me on the face, hard. The slap was thunderous, a ringing affront that shocked stinging agony through my cheek. When my head was yanked to the side, the stinging agony burst out, but I still did not flinch. I was steady, my eyes closing to slits as I forbade him the pleasure of watching me break. His spit hit my face instead, and a furious wave surged through me. How could he?

My stomach dropped when the evil grin that flashed across his face. I knew, this was not anger. This was cruel, and I knew exactly what that grin said to me. The same grin that twisted his face when he mocked other individuals, the same twisted grin that I had seen hundreds of times already.

My heart sank. What was he going to do next?

He spoke, his voice sickeningly sweet, with venom dripping from every word. "You know what? I just thought of something brilliant."

Fear trickled down my spine, despite me staying where I was. "If that is your brilliant idea, then you are sick. I just rejected you, remember?" I spat back, my voice trembling only slightly as I tried to keep up the act of defiance.

But he did not give up. His smile widened. "As long as I have not rejected you, I can still mark you." His words pierced through me like a punch to the belly, and my blood ran cold. Was it possible that he could do that?

"And do you know the catch?" He edged nearer, his warm breath against my ear. "Right after I mark you, I will reject you."

The raw horror of his words cut through me like a blade, growing deeper with every second. He was willing to make me an outlaw, to murder everything in me. The shock made me mute for a moment. Will he really do that?

The whispers of the crowd snapped me back to the real world, making me realize that we weren't alone, that they were all staring. I wanted to scream at them to leave us alone, but I never said the words. I was locked in the moment, having trouble keeping my cool.

"The show's over. I need some privacy," Dylan declared, chasing the crowd away with a wave of his hand, not even having the decency to give them a glance.

The door slammed closed behind them, and the music resumed, but I was left with a chill, locked in the stifling silence of the room.

"Now, where were we?"

Dylan's voice came like a low growl, and I shivered.

I punched him in the gut as hard as I could, but the kick was short. He pulled me by the hair again, yanking me back, and hit back with a blow that left me breathless. I staggered, gasping, but before I could regain my balance, he was on top of me, hitting me over and over. The agony flashed across my face, my body, a searing, all-encompassing flame that stripped everything from me.

I couldn't think anymore. My head was a fog of pain and anger as I struggled on the floor, fighting to breathe. What had I done? Why hadn't I just attacked his nuts? The realization came too late.

As his kicks landed, hard and vicious, I couldn't even breathe. My body was a map of bruises, every gasp pained and labored. I couldn't even make the effort to scream. I must get away.

But then, having slowed, after walking away from me for an instant, I spotted my opportunity. I scuttled across to the door, but before I could so much as touch it, he was on me, beating me again with more blows.

"You know what?" I spat, my voice rough and weak, barely above a whisper in the agony. "I don't care anymore. Do what you want. It's not like anything matters anymore." The words sounded empty, the last vestiges of my protest fleeing my mouth.

I could no longer resist. I couldn't even lift my head. I was utterly spent, my body bruised, my soul depleted by his savagery.

"You don't have to be asked twice, sweetheart," he snarled, his voice a vomitous, sneering voice that soured my stomach.

It changed him so quickly. His fangs extended, his eyes igniting with burnished copper and his savage soul releasing fully. He was grotesque, this monster so foreign to the man I remembered.

He did not want to release me.

I guess this is it for me.

I realisation shook through me, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the next thing.