Chapter 2

Audra POV:

With Casimer's canines grazing my carotid artery, every hair on my body stood on end, yet I forced my tense muscles to go completely limp beneath him.

Instead of pushing his chest away, I arched my neck further into his grip.

His wild movements paused for a fraction of a second at my sudden surrender, a trace of confusion flashing through his unfocused blue eyes.

Seizing that tiny opening, I tilted my head and pressed my mouth harder against his feverish lips.

A low, satisfied growl vibrated in his throat. He immediately took control, prying my teeth apart with his tongue to claim more.

The moment he pushed inside without guard, I snapped my jaws shut with all my strength.

Hot blood burst between our mouths, the thick metallic taste coating my tongue.

Casimer let out a muffled groan and his heavy frame stiffened, the sharp pain finally cutting through the fog of the drug.

He jerked his head back, blood smearing his lips as his dilated pupils shrank, restoring a cold, razor-sharp clarity to his blue eyes.

Yet the pain also triggered an Alpha's furious instinct when provoked. His gaze darkened, and his hand slid from the back of my head straight to my throat.

Closing his fingers like an iron vise around my windpipe, he flexed his arm and lifted me straight off the velvet mattress.

My feet left the bed as my lungs burned for air. Grabbing his thick wrist with both hands, I kicked weakly while my face turned red from lack of oxygen.

He stared down at me, his voice slurred from his bitten tongue but dripping with murderous intent.

"Who sent you?"

I squeezed broken words out of my crushed throat.

"You... were drugged... look... around..."

My words hit him like cold water. Casimer's tight jaw twitched, and his gaze finally swept past my flushed face to take in the room.

Seeing the red marriage silks, the burning white candles, and the heavy pheromone incense hanging in the air, his face turned black as storm clouds.

Then his eyes snapped back to me, and the murderous fury drained from his face in an instant. His hand flew open as though my skin had burned him, and he dropped me onto the mattress, stumbling back a step. His gaze swept over my torn gown and the red marks on my throat, and something raw and stricken flickered through his blue eyes—horror, and beneath it, a shame that looked almost like grief.

"Audra," he breathed, my name cracking in his throat as if it had escaped him against his will. He dragged a shaking hand through his hair and half turned his face away, jaw locked, as though he could not bear to look at what he had done.

I had never seen the Crown Prince like this. In my past life, I had only ever known him as the cold, distant royal whose name was spoken in whispers—the invalid heir who had supposedly defiled me and then, years later, died carrying me out of the flames. I had cursed him for a monster. And yet the man before me now looked more broken by what had happened than I felt.

Casimer POV:

The searing pain in my tongue blurred my vision, yet it ripped me out of the sickening, feverish heat boiling in my veins.

Tasting my own blood, my chest heaved with rage at being set up, driving my hand to crush the neck of the woman beneath me.

Only when she choked out that warning did I realize where I was. This was the Marking Chamber prepared for Bret Holland's wedding ceremony.

I narrowed my eyes and looked back at the girl gasping in my grip. Seeing her pale silver curls and stubborn amber-gold eyes, my heart clenched as if squeezed by an invisible hand.

It was Audra Sinclair. The girl I had secretly guarded in my memories since our five years together at the Western Border—the girl I had loved from the first moment I saw her—was nearly ruined by my own hands tonight.

Cursing inwardly, I opened my fingers and dropped her back onto the mattress. Watching her curl up and cough violently, my fingers twitched with a panic I rarely felt.

I turned my back to her at once and yanked my torn shirt collar closed, hiding the shameful loss of control she had triggered in me.

Footsteps echoed clearly in the quiet hallway outside the door.

Bret Holland's voice drifted through the wood panels.

"It is almost time. Have the men arranged by Prince Byron arrived yet?"

I clenched my fists until my knuckles cracked, my blood running cold.

My half-brother Byron and Bret Holland actually dared to use such filthy tricks on me, dragging Audra into their mud. And I had nearly given them exactly what they wanted—nearly marked her, nearly destroyed her, while lost to that poison.

I turned back around, forcing the cold mask onto my face, though it did not quite fit. My eyes kept snagging on her torn sleeve, on the bruises rising on her wrist, and each time they did, my jaw tightened as though I were biting down on something I could not say. I strode to the edge of the bed and looked down at her, keeping my voice level, though I caught the faint rasp beneath it.

"Can you still walk?"

She wiped her mouth and looked up, her amber eyes showing no fear, only a chilling calm that caught me off guard.

"If you do not want your reputation ruined, Your Highness, do exactly as I say."