Chapter 3

-Trynnian-

My mother closed the door, and awkwardness flooded the room. The werewolf opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again after a moment, frowning. I sighed, sitting down on my bed. “So, we’re married now I guess. Woohoo.”

The werewolf looked up at me suddenly, shoving his hands in the suit pockets, but I didn’t miss them shaking. Why is he scared? He could kill me in an instant, but there’s not exactly much I could do to him.

“What’s your name?” I ask, realising I don’t know my husband’s name. Knowing we were married was a very strange thought. His mouth opens and snaps shut again. My brain was shifting between finding this guy attractive and adorable and unbelievably frustrating. He’s a werewolf; they’re all monsters.

I sighed. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m Trynnian, third prince of Karlisle. And you are?” I crossed one leg over the other, trying to feel superior. It wasn’t really working with him standing over me, a fair chunk taller than me normally, and now I’m on the bed, I feel even smaller.

“Kit.” I snap my eyes up, and the werewolf is staring at the floor. His voice was raspy and raw, like he hadn’t spoken in a while. One hand had been removed from his pocket, and it was clenching and unclenching at his side. I sigh again, flicking my hair from my eyes.

“Nice to meet you. Let me make it clear now: I want nothing to do with you.” I stare straight at him, trying to ignore the disappointment squeezing at my heart as I said the words. In truth, I wanted to know him. He interested me, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him.

And there was that kiss.

Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I forced myself to remember what he was. A monster. A savage. A brute. A murderer. One of the species that took everything from me.

I harden my stare, and another knife shoots through my heart as I see the werewolf flinch at my words. “What should I do then?” He asked hesitantly, and I realised he was considerably further away from me now.

He was basically at the door, ready to run at a moments notice.

I groaned, standing up. Forcing myself, I strode over to him, grabbing his wrist. I meant to pull him towards the bed; sit him down, and have a normal conversation. My plan didn’t go quite how I expected.

As soon as my fingers brushed his arm, he flinched away. I tightened my grip over his wrist, and the werewolf- Kit, let out a small grunt. Quirking an eyebrow at him, I released his wrist, but gestured to the bed.

“Please sit, so we can have a less awkward conversation. And what’s up with your wrist?” I grabbed his arm again, my curiosity overpowering my common sense. Kit grunted a second time, and I realised it was a grunt of pain, when I saw the reddened marks.

“What is this?” I asked, my voice coming out more harsh than I intended. Kit stared at the floor, gritting his teeth. “What do you think it is?! It’s chains, your chains.” He snarls, and I admit, it was scary. He stared straight into my eyes, the pain and fear evident in his dark green irises.

“I- what?!” I gasp, retracting my hand from his and pulling away from him. Kit shrinks away from me, curling inwards into himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” I blink, nodding. “It’s fine...what do you mean though?”

He presses his lips together, gently pressing a hand to his wrist. Not the wrist I looked at. Chains. On both his wrists. I clear my throat, slowly shuffling closer to him. “Can I see the other too?” Kit slowly pulls back the suit and shirt sleeve, revealing his matching wounds.

They were healing, but based on the healing speed of werewolves, these were most likely recent injuries. “How recent are these?” Worry rose in my throat, to my dismay. Why was I worried about him? He’s a werewolf. I hate werewolves. But...I’d just met this guy, but I didn’t hate him. As hard as I try, I can’t hate him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispers. Swallowing thickly, I reach out, placing my hand gently on his arm. “Please tell me.” Kit turns his head to look at me, questions twinkling in his eyes. “Why? You don’t want anything to do with me.”

I grimace, immediately regretting my previous words. “Can I take it back? I’m going to be very honest with you, Kit.” I enjoy the sensations his name leaves on my tongue, and he smiles shyly. “Alright.”

Sighing, and slide my hand into his, crossing one knee over the other. “I hate werewolves. But, I can’t ignore how attracted to you I am, and the fact that we are technically married. So, we might as well get to know each other.”

Kit blinks at me, a little blush dusting his cheek, getting caught in his scar across his cheekbone. “You’re quite cute, to be honest. But I don’t like your family,” he says. Or whispers, technically. I try and smile reassuringly, but it probably comes out as a grimace.

And then it dawns on me. He doesn’t like my family. And what did he say earlier? It’s chains, your chains. “Kit, what happened to your wrists?” His hand moves slightly to hold mine, so that our connection is no longer merely my hand on top of his.

“I’ve been a war prisoner for the past five years,” he whispers. I suck in a breath, my grip on his hand tightening slightly. “You were here all along?”

He nods, and his dark green eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. I swallow thickly. I knew the conditions in our werewolf prisons were bad, but I didn’t realise wolves, who could literally heal, were coming away with scars like this.

That meant the wounds had to be deep, or continuously inflicted. And I could pretty much guess from the state of Kit’s, that it was a combination of both.