Page 15 of Merciless Vow
"My mother was my Alpha; Elisia O’Shea was the strongest woman I’ve ever known. I choose to honor her memory."
Fenrir remained motionless, still holding her hand. He was sensing her pulse through the thin skin of her wrist, looking for the telltale spike of a lie or the frantic rhythm of a coward. Myown wolf, tuned to her frequency, felt the truth. Her heart rate was elevated—racing with the adrenaline of the confrontation—but it remained steady. Like a soldier under fire. There was no deception here.
Magnus and Gunnar remained still as statues, waiting for the verdict. One word from Fenrir, and the Great Hall would become a slaughterhouse.
"What in the world are you all doing in here?"
My mother poked her head into the room. She looked at the formal table, already laid out with heavy silver and fine china as if we were receiving a head of state, and sighed.
"This is a family dinner. Everything is ready in the kitchen. Move."
The spell broke. Magnus and Gunnar abandoned their posts, the predatory tension vanishing as they headed toward the back of the house. Fenrir released Addie’s hand. Stepping toward me, he clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
I watched as my mother walked toward her. Mei-Ling didn't look for a pulse or a weakness. She simply smiled, a warm, genuine expression that reached her eyes. She took Addie’s hands in hers.
"I’m Mei-Ling," she said, her voice a welcome contrast to the gravel of the men in this house. "I'm going to be your mother-in-law."
My father was Alpha. But in this house, my mother's word was law. That might as well have been the marriage contract signed right there. If Addie thought she might escape me, there was no way around my mother.
"Welcome to the family, Addie. Come, let’s eat before the soup gets cold. I have three courses planned. Apple pie is your favorite, yes?"
Addie glanced over her shoulder as my mother led her away with my father on the other side. If she was expecting a rescue,she wouldn't get one from me. She had been formally welcomed into the Blackwood Pack. A welcome was one thing. Trust could be earned. But she would never be blood. I needed to keep reminding myself of that fact, even as my blood boiled for hers.
CHAPTER TEN
ADDIE
The kitchen was the heart of the fortress. It looked like a battlefield that had seen a thousand victories. It was a sprawling, sun-drenched space of warm butcher block and copper pots that hung from the ceiling like weapons in an armory. The scarred oak table in the corner, worn smooth by decades of elbows and spilled milk, only sat six. There was no room for an intruder there.
The massive kitchen island rose from the center of the room like a battlement; solid oak, wide enough that the men who filed around it became an army arranging itself along a rampart. The space between me and it felt like open water.
Vidar’s hand shot out, physically shoving Ivar off the bar stool directly to his right. Then Vidar pulled out the stool and angled it toward me. I knew I wasn't inside the fortress gate yet. But I took the stool.
"Addie, dear. Come help me serve these hungry males."
My right eye winced before I could stop it. My lips pursed into a hard, flat line of refusal. I was a junior associate. I hadn't carried a tray to a wannabe alpha wolf in a decade, and I certainly wasn't about to start playing the submissive handmaiden to a room full of Blackwoods.
Vidar’s gaze was heavy, a physical weight pressing against the side of my face. He wasn’t looking at me like a husband. He was looking at me like a recruiter waiting for a candidate to fail the culture fit portion of the job interview. The promotion I was angling for came with the only life benefit that mattered: Elias’s pulse.
Mei Ling watched me, a knowing, almost feline smile playing on her lips. She didn't repeat the command. It was a test of the identity I’d spent ten years dismantling—would I be the Alpha’s obedient mate, or would I fight a battle I couldn't win in front of the whole pack?
I balled my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms, and walked to the industrial stove. "I'm not a good cook."
Mei Ling gestured to the massive wooden platters on the counter. "My son is a wolf. He doesn't care for his meat to touch the flame."
Spread across the board were thick, prime cuts of beef, ruby-red and glistening with tangy, copper juices. My nose twitched, a violent spike of hunger hitting me so hard it made my head swim. I’d spent years forcing myself to order medium-well at power lunches, choking down charred fibers to prove I was civilized. The scent of that fresh, cold iron was intoxicating.
Mei Ling ladled a thick, savory soup into bowls, her movements fluid and practiced. "I had an arranged marriage, too. I trusted my parents, just as Fenrir trusted his, to make the best decision for the pack."
Trust? I wouldn't trust Adolphus Vane to pick out a tie, let alone a husband.
"Look at those muscles." Mei Ling let out a low, appreciative hum as she gazed at her husband.
Actually, it was a leer so blatant it made my cheeks heat. I glanced away from Fenrir Blackwood, only to have my eyes fall on his son. Vidar had muscles that fit well in that suit. They were likely even bigger when he was unclothed. Would they be a soft place to land? Or would he use them to crush my windpipe if I didn't obey?
"Fenrir was handsome; he was strong, and he was a total freak between the sheets."
I nearly dropped the bowl of soup I’d just picked up. Heat crawled up my neck. My corporate composure shattered under the weight of such an inappropriate admission.
