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My Sister's Fiance Ordered Me To Kneel In Public
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My Sister's Fiance Ordered Me To Kneel In Public Novel Cover

My Sister's Fiance Ordered Me To Kneel In Public

"Kneel." The command drops through the chandelier-lit ballroom like a steel blade. The music dies, leaving only the clinking of crystal glasses and the heavy, suffocating scent of winter frost—the signature pheromones of our Alpha. Standing at the center of the marble floor is my flawless, pure-blood sister, beaming in her custom engagement gown. Sitting on the velvet throne is Kaelen, her soon-to-be mate and the most ruthless ruler this pack has seen in centuries. And then there is me, the half-breed stain of the family, holding a silver tray of champagne, frozen in the dead silence. A low murmur ripples through the crowd. The elders sneer, whispering about how the Alpha is finally putting the trash in her place. My sister steps back, giving me a pitying look, fully expecting me to drop to the floor in absolute humiliation. I stare at Kaelen’s polished leather shoes. He leans forward, resting his chin on his knuckles, his ice-blue eyes piercing straight through my ribs. The pack thinks this is a display of power to honor his pure-blood bride. They don’t see the way his pupils dilate, swallowing the iris entirely. They don’t know that the bruise hidden high on my left thigh perfectly matches the grip of his heavy hand. Because exactly twelve hours ago, in the pitch black of my attic bedroom, he whispered that exact same command against my collarbone. My knees hit the cold marble. The silver tray rattles as I lower my head. Kaelen slowly uncrosses his legs, his boot stopping a fraction of an inch from my ruined dress. He leans down, the scent of frost wrapping around my throat, and his lips brush the shell of my ear. "Good girl."
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Chapter 3

Crystal chandeliers cast a harsh, blinding glare over the banquet hall. I balanced the heavy silver tray on my left hand, keeping my bruised right knuckles tucked against the rim. The burgundy silk of my dress clung uncomfortably to my skin, trapping the heat of a hundred pack members.

"More champagne, Elara?" Beta Garrick asked, stepping into my path.

"Of course."

He held out his empty flute. Next to him, his mate, Livia, offered a mocking smile.

"Make sure you don't drop it," Garrick warned. "Omegas are notoriously clumsy."

"I'll manage."

"I don't know," Livia chimed in, tracing the rim of her glass. "She looks a bit shaky today. Maybe the dress is too tight. Didn't your sister pick that out for you?"

"The pack sent it," I corrected sharply.

"Right. Charity," Livia sneered. "Well, run along. The Alpha's table is parched."

I poured the champagne, keeping my movements stiff and controlled. "Enjoy."

"We will," Garrick laughed.

I moved past them. The pack didn't treat me like the Luna's sister. They treated me like a stray dog allowed indoors for the night.

I navigated the sea of tailored suits and glittering gowns. Every step felt heavy. Whispers followed in my wake.

"Why is she serving?"

"Seraphina wanted to humble her."

"Good. She needs to know her place."

"Look at those bruises on her hand. Probably got into a fight with another Omega."

I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the venom.

The head table sat on a raised dais at the far end of the hall. Seraphina glowed in a white evening gown, a crown of fresh white roses nestled in her golden hair. Kaelen sat beside her, his charcoal suit immaculate, one arm draped over the back of her chair like a king surveying his court.

He wasn't looking at his bride.

Across the crowded hall, over the heads of a hundred chattering guests, his pitch-black eyes locked directly onto me.

I tightened my grip on the silver tray and forced my legs to move. One step. Then another.

The whispers faded behind me. The crystal glasses on my tray trembled with each step, chiming softly against one another.

I was walking straight toward the head table.

Straight toward him.

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