The Alpha CEO’s Unloved Wife

Tied to the Bed 

She went to her room, passing through the grand entrance hall, her eyes to the precise joins in the expensive marble tiles so that she did not need to meet the butler Heathridge’s eyes.

Heathridge usually poised between pity for her, and frustration in her failure to live up to the potential of her heritage. After tonight, she suspected frustration would win.

She went up the left arch of stairs, towards the wing that was hers. The right was Baron’s and Angelique’s. She wondered how the blonde she-wolf was getting home, seeing as Baron had not paused in order for her to join them, and then wondered why she cared.

She went into her room. A pretty room, decorated in shades of eggshell blue. Decorations selected before she had arrived; she hated the colour herself. It was one of the guest rooms on this wing of the house. Not the mistresses’ room – Angelique slept there, adjoined to Baron through an internal door. This was the room for a wife that was not wanted, and was not loved.

She pushed the door closed behind her, her heart racing in her chest, her claws

rising and piercing the wood as she Vinhaled heavily. She leaned against that door, sucking in air, anger fierce within her. 

normally be too great for her, but, in her heat, she dragged and shoved it until it was against the door, and then pushed against it every other piece of furniture until there was an obstacle of furnishings

remains of her dress with her claws, before turning on the shower at cold. She stood, sobbing, and dragging in air, under the

 she heard

Baron hit the heel of his palm

heave and not give,

and the door stopped

her hand down her body, trying to satisfy its cravings, but without success and screamed and arced off the mattress in frustration, and heard him

seeking to free it in order to admit him, and angrily tore her bed sheets, using them and her teeth to bind herself to the bed. She shrieked against the gag of cloth that she herself had placed, her body straining to the point that

would lie panting, listening to Baron fighting against the furniture piled against the door in the other room, roaring out her

glowing, as he crossed the room. He had wrapped cloth around the palms of his hands to protect them from the glass. He stood by the end of the bed, panting, growling, looking at

to the bed to prevent this, she thought, and in

bindings, his expression raw, and turned his face away from her breathing in heavily. “You would do