The glass is slammed upon the wooden floor, shattering to pieces as they slide across the ground, reaching every end of the kitchen. My eyes meet his and I take in a sharp breath, terrified of the predator before me as he stands cloaked in the darkness of the late night. His eyes seeming to glow, he just watched me as my skin pales and my knees become weak. I am afraid. The kitchen is a mess, the stools once by the breakfast bar over turned and across the kitchen, the table where candles usually are situated are upon the floor and broken, and the glass that contained his small amount of whisky is now shattered, the liquid seeming to glow in the night. Only minutes ago did he get up from bed to take a call, leaving me worried that something like this may be the result. All we have done since Natalia left has been like this, the late phone calls that leave this male angry and deranged becoming the norm.

"Who called?" I ask, my voice weak as it cracks.

Nixon shakes his head, a twisted smile crossing his lips as I see him slightly enjoy the anger rushing through him. Every night someone calls, every night for the past five nights someone has called and has caused rooms in this house to become a mess. "No one."

I shake my head this time, knowing I will not do what I often do. Usually I would be upstairs by now, trying to forget these events as I wrap the sheets around me for comfort. No. No, tonight I need to know why Nixon insists on tearing apart the kitchen. Who is this person that leaves him a mess. "Who?"

"It's none of your business," he growls, the walls shaking as the pictures hung up I fear will fall. "None of your damn business." He made me his Luna. He made me his fiancé. I am to be the mother of his child and to have a say, even if small, in running Crimson Lock.

"I am your Luna. Tell me."

The atmosphere becomes tense and I find myself stepping out from the doorway and into the kitchen, careful not to cut my foot on the glass. "Are you trying to order me around here, Lily?" He asks, voice laced with poison as I struggle to hold my head high. High in an abyss where sunlight is a curse. "What are you trying to do here? Prove to yourself something?"

"I am telling you that because you marked me, made me your Luna, and have made me your fiancé, I have a fucking damn good right to know who called to make you trash this house!" I snap, anger lacing my words now as Nixon crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. "I deserve damn well."

"It's not of your concern," he snaps, canines extending as I find myself reeling back to a safer distance. "Go back upstairs."

I shake my head. "This house is where we both live. What goes on within these walls concerns the two of us and I don't give a damn anymore about some shitty privacy because you have given me none in return." My face is red, I know it is. I know I am pissed because I know that I will be the one to clean up his mess when the sun comes up. Crossing my arms, I take my stand. "Who called or at least why did this call make you go all Tarzan?" I ask, careful where I place my feet as I walk over to a stool, propping it back up on its legs, taking a seat as Nixon understands that I am to stand my ground here on this topic. He knows that for this topic, I will get my answers. "When you made me your Luna, you also handed over to me the rights to be involved in these affairs, so spill."

Hooded eyes watch me, locked upon my body as he approaches, the shadows seeming as if to follow him. The shadows are like his sidekick, never abandoning him, aiding him in his conquests. As Nixon approaches like some predator, slowly and deadly, I feel my palms become sweaty, my nerves skyrocketing as I bite the inside of my cheek. Eyebrows knitted together and lips pressed into a firm line, Nixon stands before me, hands pushing my legs apart as he stands between them. Cocking his head to the side, a hand comes to my cheek, gently brushing the tangled hair out of my face, pinning it behind my ear as there's a tiny tug at the corner of his lips. "Rogue business, sweetheart, okay," he whispers, leaning forward, eyes locking with mine as his lips are dangerously close to my own. "Rogues and a royal wedding can be quite chaotic."

"Why would the Royal Wedding cause someone to tear apart the house?" I ask, leaning back a little to distance myself from him. "You do not like King Zion, Nixon, and it is very obvious due to the history you two share and how I saw you two interact, but why mad?" I question, his free hand placed upon my waist, inching me closer to his body.

"It's all very complicated," he whispers, closer to me than before as his eyes are intense. "So very complicated, so stressful as it makes me sometimes wonder what it would be like to fly over to that palace and settle an old score with the bastard King." I don't like how he speaks of this, how he talked of some old score to settle with such dark tones behind his every meaning. "The King who every pack sees as an innocent little fucker who fucked a rogue and will now marry her."

Sybil. What about Sybil. "You do not like Sybil?" I ask, wanting to understand what he is fully trying to say here.

"I do not like the man she is to marry. She's a small little thing, truly innocent and quite annoying. Perfect patch, but she should have known better than to concern herself in his affairs a little too much. She thinks me to be some miserable Alpha and her husband already detests me for obvious reasons." He hates the King. That is something I have understood for a while now. "Let's just say that the werewolf world has been a war for a little and this King abandons my tactics and goes for his own, losing seventy of the best warriors we put on the field. You could imagine why I am so pissed off."

So the King used a battle tactics that lose lives while Nixon's could have saved those lives. Understood.

"Lily?"

I snap back to reality, his gaze greeting mine once again as his body is pressed up against mine and I can hear the glass crack from under his shoes. "Promise me something," he whispers, a hand at the back of my neck as he inches me ever so closer to him. I nod for my reply, my throat dry as I know not what to say. "Promise me that this child will grow up with its mother."

"You think that once it is born that I will flee?" I ask, shocked by his words as I am left mad. How could he think I would flee and leave my child behind. If anything, I would take our child and run from him. Run forever if that be the case. "I am not sick enough to abandon my child with the likes of you. Who will teach this innocent child morals that you would only corrupt," I snap, knowing that the words I say will only anger Nixon.

And I am right.

A scowl forms across his face and I'm hoisted up shortly, placed upon the kitchen counter as his hands are on either side of me, caging me in as his eyes darken. "You think I would dare corrupt our child's mind-

"I know you would. What man who has murdered his wife be trusted to raise a child with a woman he forced-

Lips meet mine, rough and aggressive as the sparks fly due to his mark. His mark is what keeps this type of connection present no matter how much I resist. I pull away, moving my head to the side as Nixon received the rejection full and clear. "You're treading on thin ice here, love," he whispers, eyes shut softly as he runs his nose along my jawline, to my mark as I shudder. "I would never do anything to harm you, but your words sting and I cannot be so sure of how long I can keep this up with your harsh words."

My back greets the cold counter of the island in the kitchen, pressed down as Nixon looks over me. "Do you believe that your words have never had that effect on me?" I ask, hoisting myself up, only for his arms to stop me. "Do you honestly believe that your words have never been harsher than the ones I have just spoken?" He knows I'm right, that my words compared to his have no sting. "You use words that lace your pack members with fear to be able to rule over them. You build yourself a throne and I know you desire someone to sit beside you in your power. You had Lillian before, a woman you fought over with a King, you needed her beside you to rule over those people with fear, but you too made her fear you." I know what I say are the nails in my coffin. "You lost her, sitting alone in your power and then I came along. You marked me and made me the woman to sit beside you, but yet again, you are losing me, losing me with all of these sticks and stones masked in threats and sharp words."

"You're treading lightly here," Nixon whispers, pulling me back up, my front pressed against his as my blood feels electrified by the mark.

"Sticks and stones may build your throne, Nixon," I begin, my hand moving to his shirt, grabbing it and pulling him close. "But you'll be up there...all alone."

A smile spreads across his face, a smile that makes my own smirk fade away. I watch as Nixon pulls away, walking a few steps back as the shadows once more swallow him whole like the monsters of the dark sea. I am in the shark cage, in deep as the boat as abandoned me and the sharks are out, ready to break my cage apart and swallow me whole. "We leave at noon for our flight for the wedding. Just pack your bags and be ready to leave by then," he announces, stepping back deeper into the house. "And Lily?" I look up. "I love you."

He fades away.

I remain silent as the night drags on, my eyes watering as my arms circle around my torso and I think of my child. The child I hate to think of as his as well, but that is the reality. I remember the first time he spoke to me, as he seemed youthful and full of complete happiness that caused a smile to spread across my face and become intrigued.

He is a liar. He has his games, his clever tricks. Everyone has fallen into his traps. I did, too...

<><>

I look around the scenery, the beautiful white stone palace before us as Nixon outstretches his arm. Linking my arm with his, I am careful with the dress I am wearing, making sure to not make a sharp move and harm the fabric, my eyes looking past the man whose hand I will soon take in marriage, but to the staircase leading up to the grand set of double doors where guards dressed in silver and navy stay put. We exit the car, my heels clicking against the stone steps as we make our way up, Nixon fixing the navy bow tie that he had me tie around his neck an hour ago. I remember how my fingers gripped the silky fabric, how I wondered what it would be like to pull the strings and choke him. Looking over my shoulder, I see another car pull up, a woman and male exiting their car as they follow behind us. Nixon pulls me along, the two of us close as I know the role I must take. I must be the happy Luna. Happy and unafraid of her mate and Alpha. We have barely spoken since last night, since I said those words to him and watched him walk away.

As we pass through the double doors, I become in awe of the grand entrance, the marble floors that lead up to a throne, the windows leaking in white sunlight as the entire room seems like some holy location. There's a male at the center where all the chairs face, a woman off to the side with long red hair, looking intimidating as Nixon leans down to me. "Alpha Penelope, that is a main ally of Crimson Lock, she's an old family friend and fellow 'warlord' Alpha," he explains, pulling me into a row of white seats as I watch the red head look around the grande hall as the seats begin to fill up. "The wedding won't take long."

"Is there some reception or after party?" I ask, thinking of your average human wedding.

"Not one. The King and Sybil will be married and Sybil will be crowded Queen, that's it. We will leave after that."

"Not a big fan of the couple?" I ask, a sarcastic question as I know we both already know the answer to that question. A question that shows Nixon we are not on good terms at all. He looks around the hall, his eyes sparking with life, as if reliving memories from years ago. Perhaps memories of meeting Lillian. Perhaps happy moments of his life before it all plummeted. With Nixon and I seated within the crowd of faces, trumpets begin to sound and the crowd looks back, watching as the King enters the hall, his robes sweeping behind him as his platinum crown with sapphires is placed upon his head. As he makes his way across the hall, his eyes briefly shift over to Nixon and I, as if a warning glance, as if informing us that we are indeed not guests of honor but due to Nixon's title we needed to be invited. As the King passes by, he takes his stand before the throne next to a male, the room silent as we await Sybil. I've heard Nixon call this woman many things including annoying, ignorant, always questioning, and immature, but to me she helped me unlock secrets that have resulted in where I stand now.

The trumpets sound again and with her arm interlocked with an older male's, Sybil walks down the hall, veil before her eyes as the dress is a masterpiece. The white dress fit for a true Queen, it is a masterpiece, but it makes me question what my own wedding will be like. Sybil wears a smile upon her face while I may never wear a smile upon my own ever again. She has a skip to her step almost as her eyes are fixed upon her future husband, the sunlight seeming to center around her as she walks down the isle. She basks in the sunlight while I bask in the moonlight. She has many years before her and I pray that they are fruitful for she deserves many happy memories. As for her King and future husband, he strikes me as cold and controlling, but nothing compared to the male I am to marry. As Sybil approaches the center of the hall, the King can only smile with happiness, a true form of the emotion as my throat runs dry. Why? I know not if Nixon has truly looked at me like that, if he truly loves me. Does he love me? He says that he does, and maybe he does in his own sick and twisted way. Maybe in a dark way Nixon does truly want to give me the world on a gold platter and watch me succeed, but then again, his demons plague the two of us.

As the ceremony begins, Nixon's hand takes mine, pulling it into his lap as he holds on tight. I take a short glance to the Alpha, watching as his eyes are focused upon the King. Maybe it is because the King has moved on from Lillian, the woman who had an affair with him. Maybe in Nixon's mind he sees this as selfish, how Zion somehow caused Lillian's death to go underway and now pushes her away. Nixon killed Lillian, I have no doubt, but he still is consumed by her every thought, consumed to a point where he finds the man that had an affair with her, with Zion's marriage to a new woman, that it is misery for him to witness. Nixon made the choice to kill Lillian, that is fact and nothing can cloud that, but something that still pressures me is would Nixon dare do anything close to what he did to Lillian...to me?

As the male speaking before the thrones come to a stop, I hear the King say those words of agreement to a marriage. Sybil replies with the same words, the audience smiling as they have witnessed history. As the ceremony continues on for a coronation, Nixon squeezes tight upon my hand, pulling me an inch closer to him in our seats. He is not happy. I can feel the anger radiating off of him. I can and I am not keen on it either. As the ceremony comes to a close and the applause begins, Nixon stays still, no sign of happiness nor approval of the newly weds ever to be seen. I fear he has a trick up his sleeve for these two on day. I fear he may do something to alter their relationship. I fear many things, that is how he builds his throne after all.

As the two become married and the coronation begins, my eyes watch the entire moment of history unfold. I've heard of war, the reasons why Nixon has been here for many days. War has been upon this kingdom and yet it has still taken place within the walls of the house I have learned to call home. Just like this kingdom, war is within the home that awaits me after this night, war between two sides as the peace we once had is gone. Nixon tells me he loves me yet I wonder if he does. I wonder if he is in love with me, but I believe he is in in love with the idea of me, the idea of someone who repairs the holes your last love burned into your flesh and chewed up.

The crowd applauds and I follow, everyone rising to their feet as the attendees dressed to the nines smile with joy as they greet their new queen. Nixon stands beside me, yet he does not applaud, only a tight frown upon his face greets the new queen and couple as I know eyes are not just on the King and Queen, but Nixon and his human mate as well. I was expecting stares tonight, stares of judgment or pity for the human who stands behind the warlord.

As the crowd dissipates, the couple is gone and we are left open to the virus of communication. Alphas and nobles make their way around, eyes watching as they should, Nixon places his hand at the small of my back as he leads me through the crowd. Footsteps echoing across the marble halls and Nixon leads me closer to the exit, wanting to flee conversation as I know we cannot escape what awaits us.

"Nixon Maxwell, what a sight for sore eyes," a woman's voice sounds, calling our attention as I look over my shoulder to meet green eyes. "A sight for sore eyes standing beside a beauty." Her red hair flows down in gentle curls, elegance overflowing from how she holds her chin high. With the presence to fill castles and a sly smile belonging to a dragon, she walks forward, every stride she takes filled with confidence. "I would love to meet this little angel that wears a ring upon her finger."

"Alpha Penelope, nice to see you again," Nixon greets, pulling me beside him as if in a defense mode. With my feet aching in these heels and my fear growing by the second, the female alpha cocks her head to the side as she examines me.

"Love what she's done with the hair. I'm guessing she originally had brunette hair rather than Lillia-

"I was not expecting to speak with you," Nixon interrupts, his tone sharp as I know how the Alpha's comment was to end. She was to compare me to Lillian. She knows the story of Lillian, or at least what Nixon wants the world to believe.

"Let the human speak, Alpha Maxwell," Alpha Penelope informs, looking back to me as her judgmental gaze meets mine. "What's your name?" They treat me like some lesser being. Is this how they see humans? Lesser lifeforms?

"Lily," I reply, knowing she will comment with something along the lines of Lillian. It's as predictable as someone on a board shouting 'I'm the king of the world' like Jack from Titanic.

Penelope smiles, one that tugs at the right side of her lips and tugs fear a bit more into my heart. "Beautiful, Nixon, you half-way moved on. Lillian to Lily."

"Do you have any amount of respect in your blood?" I snap, holding my head high as I cannot do this. I cannot be reminded of the hell I am living and how the public now sees me. I cannot deal with Lillian spoken of anymore. I cannot be seen as the replacement for Lillian Rice. I have the reminder of her everyday when I walk through the hollow halls of the house, when I walk past the piano, or when I look at the rock that sits upon my finger. I may not be Lillian nor her fill-in, but Nixon has not let go of the woman who burned his world and let nothing to rise from the ashes.

"Good. She speaks her mind," Penelope comments, her power stance no longer just boosting how she comes off as confident but cocky. "How old are you? Sixteen? Fifteen?"

"Eighteen and I hate to be rude here but you have no place here to barge into our lives and demand our respect when you offer none but annoyance." Nixon seems to relax from the words I spew out, having enough of this Alpha's words. The female simply raises an eyebrow and looks at me as if impressed.

"I'd love to attend the wedding here, Nixon and Lily, but just send me a card and I'll send a gift back. No need to attend my second one within that cursed town." Does Nixon not even talk back to this woman? Does he not dare say anything to this woman wishing to degrade the two of us?

I know he's working up to saying something. I know he is about to say something that shuts this Alpha up and will send us back on our way home. Home to a house that is filled with silence and screams.

"Choose your words wisely, Penelope," Nixon informs, places his arm around my waist as I know we are to depart. "Because someday someone may come along and cut out that tongue of yours."

We leave with a threat hanging in the air.