MATED TO FATHER, FATED TO SONS-Chapter 25: THE PERFECT BITCH

LILA CROSS

They called it charm. I called it survival. The difference between us was that I knew exactly what I was.

Ryker called me a bitch, not behind my back either, nah, that daring devil said it to my face and Rowan always refuted him for that.

But he wasn’t wrong. I was a bitch and it was something I had made my peace with a long time ago.

They wouldn’t know it if they look at me though, throw in a heel, a sundress, nude lipstick and a pink hair clip and you were now transformed into a lady, soft edges and sweet smiles and everything a room full of men wanted to see, it was the classic rule and it worked every single time without fail.

It only took a devil to recognize one, which was precisely why Ryker and I never got along.

To Rowan I was the perfect fiancée, calm and gentle and lady-like, smiling when we went out, letting him hold the chair for me, blushing at compliments and giving that half-chuckle half-laugh to the corny jokes cocky men made at dinner tables while I calculated every person in the room.

It wasn’t my fault. I was raised this way, being the Alpha’s only daughter of the Ironcrest pack meant being dressed like a lady and sharpened like a blade, raised to act gentle in public and be absolutely ruthless when it counted, to trample and slaughter anyone who got in my way and smile while doing it.

"You can go check out the hall, I will be right behind you, let me just get some paperwork done," Rowan had said that morning, scribbling on some document without even looking up at me.

I rolled my eyes and walked out of the office and he didn’t seem to notice or care, his pen scratching against paper like I had already left the room before I actually had.

Something about him had changed lately, the past week to be precise, always busy, always occupied, dodging any suggestion of going out together, his attention pointed somewhere I couldn’t quite locate and that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

We were a couple of weeks from our wedding and I was carrying the entire weight of the planning while he scribbled in offices and gave me half-answers, and people were starting to ask questions I didn’t have clean responses to.

I stormed through the garden cursing under my breath at the grass, "Fucking greenery," pressing into the soles of my five inch heels with every step, the sun beating down on my neck without mercy, sweat gathering at my collar in a way that was deeply undignified.

I was aware that Rowan and I started as a political arrangement, two strong packs folding into one through marriage, but I liked to believe we had moved well past that by now, we had fucked, good hard fuck a couple of times, and I had played the good girl perfectly, letting him lead, whispering against his ear, "Rowan I have only been with one other, take it easy on me," and he had believed every word of it.

Well, I had only been with one other in this pack, which was Cole, also a good fuck, but the moment I got close enough to Rowan I dropped Cole without a second thought and I suspected he resented me for it, at least he had kept his mouth shut about our little arrangement.

Outside this pack I had a collection of men who had sworn to secrecy and worshipped my dripping wet pussy like a religion, multiple orgasms, men in bondage and me holding every string, that was entirely my preference, but for Rowan I would be the good girl, patient and devoted and perfectly packaged.

The building came into sight and I spotted her immediately, standing at the entrance steps in that floral dress with her hair pulled back, Nia beside her with that irritating smile she carried everywhere, and infuriation moved through my chest the moment I laid eyes on her.

I hated her. From the moment I heard Alpha Corvin was taking a mate I had hated the idea of her, she would be Luna and I would be what exactly, second, lesser, overlooked in a house I had already mentally claimed, that innocent face and those wide eyes acting like a helpless victim when she was standing in the middle of everything I had already decided was mine.

That position belonged to me and I would make absolutely certain of it.

I smiled and opened my mouth, "Look who is here, if it isn’t the wench breeder."

She scowled, her pretty face pulling tight with a fury she was not bothering to hide, and I held her gaze and kept smiling because the smile was the sharpest thing I owned.

Nia stiffened beside her but said nothing, smart girl.

Amaris took one step forward, chin lifted, eyes burning, "I have seen ladies like you my whole life," her voice came out controlled and clear, which was more than I expected from her, "easily threatened, rattled to the bone the moment they are standing in front of a woman who is everything they want to be and more."

The smile dropped off my face before I could stop it.

I looked her over slowly, top to bottom, the floral dress and the simple ponytail and the bare face, letting the silence do its work before I opened my mouth, "Everything I want to be," I repeated, my voice dropping to something quieter and more dangerous than a shout.

"Sweetheart, you are standing in a house that does not belong to you, wearing a title that was handed to you like charity, about to walk down an aisle to a man who sees you as nothing more than a vessel, and you want to talk to me about what I want to be."

Something flickered behind her eyes but she didn’t step back, I gave her that.

"At least I know exactly what I am here for," she shot back, her voice holding, "you have been here longer and you still cannot say the same, can you."

My jaw tightened, "Watch your mouth."

"Or what." She tilted her head, and the nerve of it, the absolute nerve of this girl standing in front of me with her chin up like she had anything to stand on, "I am not scared of you, I have done nothing wrong to you."

Nia took a small step sideways, removing herself from the blast radius with the quiet efficiency of someone who had excellent survival instincts.

"You have no idea," I said, my voice coming out low and clipped, "what I am capable of."

Amaris looked at me for a long moment, steady and unblinking, "Neither do you, apparently," she said quietly, "or you would not have come over here and started this."

"You little bitch," I snapped, my hand connecting with her cheek before the words had fully left my mouth, the crack of it sharp and final in the open air.

Her head turned with the force of it and for one second the whole world went quiet.

Then she turned back and slapped me so hard my hair clip flew sideways, the sting of it blooming across my cheek hot and immediate, and I had not seen that coming, not from her, not from those soft hands and that victim face, and the shock of it lasted exactly long enough for me to raise my hand again.

A grip closed around my wrist, iron and immovable.

"What the hell," I wrenched around, ready to unleash everything I had left.

Rowan stood behind me, his hand locked around my wrist, his jaw tight, his eyes moving between my face and Amaris and back again with an expression I had never seen on him before, something cold and calculating and completely unreadable.

He had seen all of it.