Emelia could not tell how it happened, but suddenly everyone's eyes were on her; the cold breeze blowing through her felt like part of her was gone.
"Hey," a hushed masculine voice calls out to her. Emelia gradually raises her head, staring into the blue eyes. She was willing to drown from the shame.
"It's okay," he whispers, gently patting her back. For a while, she leaned into him, not daring to look at the damage behind her, but a scream came from the floor.
"How dare you… Who dares you to push me to the floor, Emelia... How wicked can you be?" Claire's crying voice grew noisy.
Emelia swiftly turns, and Clair was on the floor, half her dress lying a few feet away, while she tries hard to cover herself with the little fabric left on her.
"It wasn't me... Why will I do something like this?' Emelia voices out, but her denial is only submerged by the noisy wheeling of Clair, attracting the attention of everyone, including the Alpha and Luna, as they hurry to her side.
"Clair!" Mark comes rushing swiftly, putting his coat over her and covering her now naked body.
"Bring some sheets," he orders the frozen servants.
"Who did this? Who dares?" Mark roars angrily, staring daggers at the guest, but Clair swiftly points at Emelia, who leaned into her husband's arms.
"Emelia? How can you be so vicious? It is her wedding day, and dare you disgrace her so much? I know you're hurt. I choose her over you, but you don't have to stoop so low." Emelia could not believe her ears.
As expected of her scoundrel of a fated mate, he was yet again favoring his mistress over her without a thought.
"Your parents should have thought you were a better young lady," Luna Camfrey voiced out of disappointment. Her parents had not only taught her well, but they had also done all for her sake; hearing them being slandered did not sit well with Emelia.
"How is it me? I am standing over here, and her dress was snatched from the back, not the front. Could you take a look before pointing fingers?" Mark turned to Clair's dress and position, but he was still unconvinced.
"I know, but you must have hired someone…" Clair lamented.
"How can you be so vicious? I don't know you to be such a cruel person, or has marrying my shady brother made you like him?" Emelia turned to Fred, like always, and he stood unfazed. Cold and unapproachable.
"I am glad you think so highly of me, but I am sorry I don't have time to invest in stupid ideas," she smiled warmly
"Crying over spilled milk is not my idea of moving on, and for the record, I dump you, not the other way around." Emelia turned to the crying Clair, whose makeup was smudged, making her a living horror artifact.
"So why will I want to hurt you now, wife, when I had been the one to reject you, to begin with?" Her hands tightened around Fredrick.
"My parents raised no bitch and certainly a well-brought-up lady should know best to keep herself together for her mate or at least wait on marriage and not slut around with mated wolves." Mark could hear the affirmation from the crowd.
The marriage ritual was only done for wolves who had lost their purity before the official wedding, exempting the sheet test, and seeing the guilty look on Mark and Claire's faces was evidence that they had done it.
"You should leave; you weren't invited to begin with. Mark holds on to his crying wife, helping her out of the hall into a private room. Emelia and Fred did not need to be reminded as they went outside.
"Caution your wife; let her know her place," Luna Camfrey snaps at them, following her husband.
"She knows her place very well, and so does my mother." Frederick's words were not audible, but his mother heard them.
"It wasn't me," Emelia informs her husband. While he helped her into the car, they were in a marriage of convenience, but trust was essential. He carefully holds up her dress, making sure not to close it with the door, not saying a word.
Settling in from the other end, he stared at her so closely that Emelia could feel his warm breath on her body; the fragrance of raspberry lingering on his breath made her want to explore the taste of his lips to find out what wine he drank.
"I know," he replies sternly, looking deep into her eyes. "I know you enough to know what you can and cannot do."
"You're not the only one who hates her," he added, staring ahead as the driver started the engine. The ride home was quiet, letting Emelia gradually process the happenings of the evening. It had all been innocent until the very end; she could still feel the warmth of his body as he held her tight against him protectively.
"Thank you," she whispers, still staring out the window.
"There are better ways to say thank you to me… don't you think, Mrs. Frederick?" Emelia snaps from her thoughts, feeling the cold hands of the man slide through the slit on her dress, gaining access to her bare thighs. Her body instantly froze.
Her hands pressed against his chest, promptly pushing against him. But Fredrick was relentless, pulling her onto his lap. She felt his hardness against her, and a surge of panic washed over her. Her body stiffened, trying to fight him, but her hands betrayed her, clinging to his shoulders as the lines between rage and desire blurred.
"He doesn't ask for permission but doesn't need to." Her mind was in chaos, but the thought of him going deeper made her not want to push his hands away.
"No ...the contract," she gasped.
But Fredrick slides his hands to her waist, roughly pulling her onto his lap so swiftly that she jolted at the outstanding member of his poking her between her ass. He chuckled lowly, his breath hot against her ears.
"The contract, Emelia… It states you give an heir. That's what we agreed on. And don't forget it," he whispers hoarsely into her ears, licking her nape. His words lingered like a dark promise, the weight settling between them.
"Hey…you don't look okay." Emelia tries pushing herself off him, but he holds on too tightly. Her protesting only made her body slide harder onto him as his member threatened to break through the fragile fabric.
"You're not okay," she panicked.
"I've never been better." He grinned.