My Sister's Fiance Ordered Me To Kneel In Public

The attic air tasted stale, heavy with dust and the suffocating scent of lilies. I knelt on the uneven floorboards, smoothing the edges of Seraphina's engagement veil. Tomorrow, my perfect sister would wear this. Tomorrow, she would bind herself to Kaelen Dravos.

The brass doorknob turned. A sharp click echoed through the rafters.

The door locked from the inside.

I spun around. My knees scraped the wood.

Kaelen stood in the shadows, his broad frame blocking the only exit. He hadn't bothered to take off his suit jacket from the rehearsal dinner.

"What are you doing up here?" I asked, keeping my voice low. "The guests just left."

"I missed you at dinner, Elara." His voice was a low rumble that vibrated against my skin.

"I had to steam the dress. Now leave, before someone sees you."

He didn't move. The shadows clung to his sharp jawline. "Make me."

"Kaelen, I swear to God—"

He crossed the room in three massive strides. Before I could scramble backward, his hand shot out. He snatched the delicate tulle from my fingers. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the veil into the corner. It landed in a crumpled white heap.

"My sister's veil!" I yelled.

"Forget the fucking veil."

His fingers clamped around the back of my neck. The sheer force of his grip sent a shockwave down my spine. I stiffened, my back going completely rigid.

"Let go of me," I demanded.

"Down," he ordered.

The Alpha command hit me like a physical blow. My biology screamed to submit, to collapse under the sheer weight of his pheromones. I fought it. I dug my fingernails so hard into my palms that the skin broke.

"I said, down." He shoved my shoulders hard.

My knees hit the floorboards, landing right in the center of the discarded white tulle. The fabric snagged against my bare skin.

"Are you insane?" I hissed, glaring up at him. "Your engagement party is in eight hours!"

"And you've been avoiding me for three days."

"Because you're marrying Seraphina!"

Kaelen dropped to his haunches, leveling his gaze with mine. His eyes were entirely black, the pupil swallowing the iris. "Does that change anything?"

"It changes everything."

"You belong to me, Elara. A ring on her finger doesn't erase my mark on you."

His thumb found the sensitive knot of flesh at the base of my neck. My gland. He didn't just touch it; he dug his fingers in, massaging the swollen tissue with a rough, punishing rhythm.

A violent shudder tore through my body. I tried to twist away.

"Stay still," he growled.

"You're hurting me."

"I'm marking you."

His breathing turned ragged, harsh against the quiet of the attic. He leaned in, his nose brushing the curve of my jaw. The scent of cold iron and crushed pine needles flooded my senses, heavy and suffocating. It was a pure, unfiltered Alpha scent, designed to conquer.

"Stop," I gasped.

"You smell like dust and cheap soap," he