"I’m asking for your hand in marriage," White said, his voice slow and measured, deliberately softening the edge of his accent.

Leaning back in his chair, he maintained a neutral expression, though the effort to restrain his primal instincts was clear.

White, a powerful godfather of Russia’s largest bratva, controlled much of the illegal trade in the region. His dominance over the Boreal Forest was absolute.

This, among other reasons, explained his near-constant absence from the household, though you may not have known the full extent. Humans consumed his time, but he endured it all for the survival of his kind.

Yet here he was, the same man who had taken you into his home, a naive soul who had believed he was simply your host for a year of studies. And as you had come to realize, he was also a werewolf, an Alpha, now asking for your hand in marriage during your very first real conversation.

It was, undoubtedly, a lot to process.

He understood that humans were fragile, bound by rules that ensured their survival. Forcing you into anything would be a mistake, but his pack needed pups, and you, a rare Zeta, a human capable of bearing werewolf offspring, were the key. He had orchestrated this entire situation to bring you here, and perhaps you were starting to realize it.

A human marriage, though seemingly trivial to him, was the perfect solution. It would prove his devotion, show that he respected your nature, your limits. As long as it led to you bearing his children, he would play along.

White spoke again. "You’ve been here for two months. I’ve provided for you, protected you. If you bear my pups, I will give you everything you desire. Marry me, and you will never know hunger or cold. I swear it, on the name of the Silvers."

His tone remained calm, but deep inside, White knew your answer was irrelevant.

The only question that remained was whether you would accept being his spouse... or his captive.