Falling Back Into His Arms Again

Anya's Point of View

"Luna, Alpha Marcus is calling for you. He wants you to go to his room immediately," said one of the house staff, a pack member who also lived in the packhouse. I gave her a small smile and responded, "Alright, I'll be there soon."

She walked away while I remained in the garden, picking flowers. I admired the five beautiful blooms in my hand, inhaling their soothing fragrance. After a few more moments of enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, I decided it was time to head inside.

Upon entering the packhouse, I placed the flowers in a vase before making my way upstairs to Marcus’s room. Just as I reached for the doorknob, the door swung open violently, revealing his angry expression. Without warning, he grabbed my arm roughly and yanked me inside. I winced at the pain, already knowing a bruise would form by nightfall.

"What took you so long?" he demanded, his tone sharp.

I lowered my gaze before answering, "I was just picking flowers. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting."

He didn't reply; instead, he pushed me onto the bed, forcing me to sit. Marcus moved closer, capturing my lips in a kiss. It wasn’t gentle or affectionate—it was just an act of possession. But what could I do? If this was what he wanted, I would give it to him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, silent tears slipped down my cheeks.

Marcus suddenly pushed me down, tearing my clothes apart. His lips traveled from my jaw to my neck, sucking harshly. His hands roamed over my body, exploring without tenderness. I couldn't hold back a gasp as he continued, his touch fueled by desire rather than love.

He quickly stood, stripping off his own clothes before returning to me. His lips found mine again as he forcefully claimed me. I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain. He wasn’t gentle—he never was. His movements were rough and demanding.

"Ahh!" I cried out, my nails digging into his back.

"Damn it," Marcus groaned, his pace relentless. The room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing and muffled moans.

"You’re mine, Anya," he growled against my ear. I barely managed a nod, my body already exhausted. The pressure built between us until, moments later, we both reached our climax.

Marcus collapsed beside me, breathless and covered in sweat. I turned to my side, wiping away the silent tears that continued to fall.

"Leave," he said flatly.

This was always how it ended. No warmth, no comfort—just dismissal. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I forced myself to stand despite the ache between my legs. I gathered my torn clothes, my eyes flickering toward him. He was staring at me, but there was no emotion behind his gaze.

"Don’t disappear or go flirting around—I need you later," he muttered before heading into the bathroom. I sank onto the floor, my body shaking as fresh tears spilled down my cheeks.

"Anya," my wolf whispered, her voice laced with concern.

"I’m fine. Don’t worry about me," I murmured, though I knew it was a lie. Curling into a ball under the covers in my own room, I let myself cry.

"Please, stop crying," my wolf pleaded, her sorrow mirroring mine.

I ignored her, shutting down completely. Why couldn’t I find happiness? He was cruel, heartless—and yet, I still loved him.

Now, I was getting ready because Marcus had told me that Candice and Blake would be visiting. I slipped into a simple dress and applied a bit of makeup to hide my pale complexion. When I glanced at my arm, I noticed a bruise forming.