I Brought A Drunk Stranger Home To Save His Life — Now He’s Forcing Me To Play His Fake Mate To Survive
Part 2
His mouth crashes down on mine before I can even process the threat.
The kiss is supposed to be fake, but there is absolutely nothing simulated about the way his fingers thread tightly into my hair.
My knees instantly go weak, buckling against his solid frame.
He tastes like mint, expensive coffee, and raw, unfiltered danger.
A low, rumbling sound reverberates from his chest, entirely unhuman and utterly consuming.
I grip the lapels of his borrowed coat, desperately trying to keep myself upright in the heavy snow.
When he finally pulls back, my lips are completely swollen and my lungs are starving for air.
He does not look at my face immediately, adjusting his collar with absolute clinical detachment.
He tells me Brenda Grant is not just a wealthy heiress playing at resort management, but something far more dangerous.
He claims her family runs an underground pack of shape-shifters, and they are directly responsible for the missing people.
My brain violently rejects the information, demanding I run back to the safety of my bar.
Then he mentions the ice cave again, his voice dropping into a deadly serious register.
He promises me that if I play the role of his fated mate, he will show me exactly where Heather is hidden.
I stare at his amber eyes, realizing I am standing on the absolute precipice of madness.
The sensible, traumatized part of me screams to walk away and let the authorities handle it.
But the police already failed Heather, dismissing my frantic reports as stress-induced hallucinations.
Now Emily is out there somewhere, freezing in the absolute dark.
I nod slowly, sealing my own fate under the shadow of the mountain.
He flashes a sharp, predatory smile that makes my pulse completely erratic.
He warns me that wolves do not take the concept of mates lightly, and Brenda will constantly test our bond.
He promises to protect me, but the sheer predatory grace in his stance tells me he might be the biggest threat of all.
I am stepping into a hidden world of literal monsters, pretending to belong to the most terrifying one of them all.
Will I survive being the fake mate of a monstrous CEO, or am I walking straight into the same frozen grave as my best friend?
Part 3
Megan survived the first forty-eight hours as the fake mate of a monstrous CEO, but she knew the ice was cracking beneath her boots.
The Pinewoods Ski Resort glittered under the December sun, a winter wonderland built on lies and frozen bones.
Greg Harrison walked beside her, his tailored coat brushing against her oversized parka with every step.
He played the role of a devoted partner with terrifying perfection.
He brought her coffee before her shift, his large hand resting casually on the small of her back while the bar patrons stared.
He memorized her favorite order at the diner and glared at any man who lingered too long near her stool.
It was a performance designed to fool Brenda Grant, but Megan found herself forgetting it was fake.
The warmth of his palm felt entirely too real against her spine.
“You are thinking too loudly,” Greg murmured, his breath pluming in the frigid air.
Megan tightened her grip on her steaming cup of tea.
She refused to look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the towering pines framing the ski slopes.
“I am trying to mentally prepare myself for another interrogation,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Brenda Grant had not left them alone since the confrontation by the chairlift.
The resort heiress seemed to materialize out of thin air wherever they went, her ice-blue eyes tracking their every move.
“Brenda is getting desperate,” Greg noted, adjusting the collar of his coat.
He scanned the tree line with amber eyes that missed absolutely nothing.
“She knows I am looking for my pack beta, and she knows I am getting closer to the truth.”
Megan shivered, a chill running down her spine that had nothing to do with the winter wind.
Three years ago, she had stumbled into a hidden cave and found her best friend Heather frozen in solid ice.
Doctor Goldberg had convinced her she was losing her mind, burying her trauma under a mountain of prescriptions.
But Greg’s arrival had shattered that carefully constructed delusion.
He had seen the ice girl too, confirming every horrifying memory Megan had tried to repress.
“We need to find the cave today,” Megan said, her voice trembling slightly.
“Emily has been missing for two days now, and every hour counts.”
Greg stopped walking, his massive frame blocking the wind as he looked down at her.
“The woods are massive, and the Grants have patrols disguised as ski instructors sweeping the perimeter.”
He reached out, his thumb brushing a stray snowflake from her cheek.
The gesture was incredibly tender, entirely at odds with the lethal grace of his posture.
“I will not let you walk into a trap, Megan.”
She swatted his hand away, ignoring the sudden spike in her pulse.
“I am not a fragile human you need to coddle,” she snapped, wrapping her arms around her chest.
“Heather is my best friend, and I am the only one who vaguely remembers the path to the cave.”
Greg’s jaw tightened, a muscle feathering in his cheek as he analyzed her stubborn expression.
He let out a low, rumbling sigh that vibrated in his broad chest.
“Fine,” he conceded, his amber eyes darkening.
“But you stay entirely behind me, and if I tell you to run, you do not look back.”
Megan nodded, ignoring the heavy knot of dread twisting in her stomach.
They veered off the main path, stepping beyond the bright orange boundary markers of the resort.
The festive holiday music immediately faded, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the ancient forest.
Snow crunched heavily beneath their boots, the snowdrifts growing deeper the further they walked.
Megan navigated by memory and instinct, following the jagged silhouette of the mountain peaks.
She remembered the storm three years ago, the blinding whiteout, and the haunting melody that had lured her off the trail.
“Do you hear that?”
Greg suddenly asked, holding up a gloved hand.
Megan froze, straining her ears against the howling wind.
It started as a low vibration, a sound felt in the bones rather than heard.
Then the melody emerged, a soft, sorrowful humming that drifted through the pines.
It was the exact same song from her nightmares.
“The ice,” Megan whispered, her breath catching in her throat.
Greg shifted his stance, his body entirely blocking her from whatever lay ahead.
He dropped the facade of the polished CEO, his shoulders hunching slightly as if preparing to strike.
“Stay close,” he commanded, his voice dropping into a guttural register.
They pushed through a thick cluster of snow-heavy branches, emerging into a small, secluded hollow.
The entrance to the cave gaped like a black maw against the sheer rock face.
Icicles hung from the opening like jagged teeth, gleaming ominously in the muted light.
The humming was louder here, echoing from the depths of the cavern in a hypnotic, endless loop.
Megan took a step back, her chest heaving as the crushing weight of her trauma resurfaced.
She could see Heather’s frozen face flashing in her mind, the absolute terror crystallized in her dead eyes.
Greg reached back, his large, warm hand wrapping firmly around her trembling fingers.
“Focus on me,” he instructed, his thumb stroking her knuckles.
“You are not alone this time.”
Megan drew a shaky breath, anchoring herself to the solid, undeniable reality of his grip.
She nodded once, forcing her feet to move forward into the darkness.
The deeper they walked into the dense forest, the more Megan realized how entirely isolated they truly were.
The tall pines formed a thick canopy overhead, completely blocking out the weak winter sun and casting the woods into permanent twilight.
Greg moved with a silent, predatory grace that made absolutely no sound against the deep snowdrifts.
He constantly scanned their surroundings, his senses completely heightened as he checked the wind for any sign of ambush.
“You are thinking about the reporter,” Greg said suddenly, his voice breaking the heavy silence.
Megan startled, her oversized boots slipping slightly on a patch of hidden ice.
“How could you possibly know that?” she asked, her breath pluming in the freezing air.
“Your heartbeat completely accelerated, and your scent shifted to pure anxiety,” Greg replied matter-of-factly.
Megan crossed her arms, entirely frustrated by his supernatural abilities.
“The reporter was right, Greg.”
“There is a terrifying pattern, and I was just too blind to see it.”
“You were not entirely blind, Megan.”
“You were deeply traumatized,” Greg corrected, stopping to wait for her.
“The Grants have spent three years using their influence to actively gaslight you into silence.”
He reached out, his large, warm hand wrapping securely around her freezing fingers.
“They knew you saw the cave, and they knew you were the only real threat to their operation.”
Megan looked down at their joined hands, the absolute contrast between her small, pale fingers and his large, tanned ones stark against the snow.
“Why did Brenda not just kill me three years ago?”
Megan whispered, voicing the terrifying question that had haunted her all morning.
“Because a tragic accident is entirely believable, but a second sudden disappearance would have completely raised suspicion,” Greg explained darkly.
He tugged her gently forward, leading her around a massive, fallen tree trunk.
“They wanted to break your mind instead, isolating you until no one would ever believe a word you said.”
Megan swallowed hard, the cruel logic of the Grants’ plan making complete, sickening sense.
Her mother, her grandfather, and her sister had all fallen for it entirely.
They looked at her with pity and concern, completely convinced she was suffering from severe delusions.
“We have to stop her,” Megan said, her voice finally gaining a completely solid edge of determination.
“We will,” Greg promised, his amber eyes flashing with a dangerous, lethal light.
“I am going to completely dismantle her entire pack, and then I am going to tear down her pathetic resort.”
They continued in silence for another twenty minutes, the terrain growing increasingly treacherous and steep.
Megan’s thighs burned with the absolute effort of trudging through knee-deep snow, but she refused to complain.
She kept her eyes firmly fixed on Greg’s broad back, trusting him entirely to lead the way.
The wind began to howl through the trees, a lonely, completely desolate sound that made Megan shiver violently.
And then, she heard it.
The temperature dropped violently the moment they crossed the cave threshold.
Megan’s breath immediately plumed into thick white clouds, her teeth beginning to chatter uncontrollably.
Greg released her hand to pull a high-powered flashlight from his coat pocket.
The beam cut through the suffocating darkness, revealing walls made of smooth, iridescent blue ice.
The air smelled ancient and sterile, completely devoid of the sharp pine scent from outside.
The haunting melody bounced off the frozen walls, making it impossible to determine the source.
They navigated the twisting tunnels in silence, Greg moving with the silent, predatory grace of a born hunter.
Megan trailed closely behind him, her oversized boots slipping on the slick, frozen floor.
She kept her eyes fixed on the broad expanse of his shoulders, using his presence as a shield against her rising panic.
The tunnel suddenly widened, opening into a massive, cavernous chamber.
The flashlight beam swept across the room, illuminating a nightmare carved in frost.
Megan slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle a violent sob.
Dozens of people were entombed in the glacial walls, suspended like insects trapped in amber.
They were perfectly preserved, their faces frozen in expressions of absolute terror or quiet surprise.
“Oh my god,” Megan whimpered, her legs completely giving out.
She dropped to her knees on the ice, her wide eyes locked on a familiar figure near the center of the chamber.
Heather stood perfectly still, her long dark hair floating in the frozen block as if caught in a permanent breeze.
Her hands were pressed against the inside of the ice, her mouth open in a silent scream.
Greg knelt beside Megan, his expression hardening into something terrifyingly cold.
He directed the flashlight toward the back of the chamber, revealing a smaller, fresher block of ice.
Inside was Emily Peterson, the missing teenager from the news report.
Her braids were perfectly intact, her eyes wide with shock, but she looked as dead as the rest of them.
“This is not just murder,” Greg said, his voice a low, vibrating growl.
“This is a trophy room.”
Megan could not tear her eyes away from Heather, fresh tears freezing instantly on her cheeks.
She had spent three years believing she was insane, swallowing pills to forget a reality that was staring her in the face.
“How do we get them out?” she demanded, her voice cracking with desperation.
Greg stood up, running a gloved hand along the surface of Emily’s icy prison.
“We cannot just break the ice,” he explained, his amber eyes analyzing the magical frost.
“This is Alpha magic, ancient and deeply tied to the life force of the caster.”
He turned to face Megan, the harsh light casting deep, menacing shadows across his face.
“If we shatter the ice by force, it will shatter them as well.”
Megan scrambled to her feet, anger finally overriding her paralyzing fear.
“So we just leave them here to be Brenda Grant’s twisted decorations?” she shouted, no longer caring who heard her.
“No,” a new voice echoed through the cavern, smooth and dripping with cruel amusement.
“You die here with them.”
Brenda Grant stepped out from the shadows of the entrance tunnel, her white-blonde hair glowing in the dim light.
She was flanked by three massive men, their eyes glowing a sickening, unnatural yellow.
Brenda did not look like a wealthy resort heiress anymore.
Her features were elongated, her fingernails tapering into razor-sharp black claws.
She smiled, revealing a row of unnervingly pointed teeth.
“I must admit, Edward,” Brenda purred, deliberately using Greg’s real name.
“I thought the poison in your wine would be enough to keep you docile until the merger.”
Greg stepped smoothly in front of Megan, completely shielding her from Brenda’s predatory gaze.
“You underestimated my tolerance,” Greg replied, his voice entirely devoid of fear.
“And you severely overestimated your own intelligence, Victoria.”
Brenda let out a sharp, barking laugh that echoed horribly off the frozen bodies.
“You brought a fragile little human into my sanctuary,” she mocked, gesturing lazily toward Megan.
“Did you really think a fake mating bond would stop me from protecting my territory?”
Megan grabbed the back of Greg’s coat, her knuckles turning white from the strain.
Brenda knew the mating bond was a lie.
“She is not a part of this,” Greg warned, a dangerous, primal growl rumbling in his chest.
His own eyes flared brilliantly, shifting from amber to a blinding, incandescent gold.
The sheer power radiating off him was physically oppressive, pushing the cold air out of the immediate vicinity.
Brenda merely smirked, waving a dismissive hand at her three enforcers.
“Kill the Alpha,” she ordered smoothly.
“But leave the human alive.”
Brenda’s eyes locked onto Megan with chilling intent.
“I have an empty pedestal right next to her best friend that needs filling.”
The three massive men surged forward, their bodies twisting and snapping as they shifted forms mid-leap.
Megan screamed, completely blinded by the sudden explosion of violence.
Greg moved faster than the human eye could track.
He intercepted the first wolf mid-air, a sickening crunch of bone echoing through the cavern as he slammed the massive beast into the frozen floor.
The second attacker lunged for his throat, its jaws snapping inches from Greg’s face.
Greg twisted violently, using the wolf’s own momentum to throw it against the solid ice wall.
The cavern shook with the impact, spiderweb cracks forming along the previously flawless surface.
Megan scrambled backward, pressing herself against the ice block containing Emily.
She watched in absolute terror as the civilized CEO shed every ounce of his humanity.
Greg did not fully shift into a wolf, but his body expanded with raw, terrifying muscle.
His nails elongated into lethal claws, his teeth sharpening into deadly fangs.
He fought with calculated, brutal efficiency, dismantling Brenda’s enforcers with ruthless precision.
But Brenda was not simply watching.
She threw her head back, letting out a deafening, unearthly howl that caused the temperature in the cave to plummet even further.
The ice walls hummed in response, the magical frost thickening in the air until it became a blinding white fog.
“You cannot defeat me in my own domain, Carver,” Brenda shrieked, her voice echoing from everywhere at once.
She lunged at Greg through the mist, her claws tearing a deep gash across his broad chest.
Greg roared in pain, blood splattering onto the pristine white snow.
Megan clamped a hand over her mouth, paralyzing fear threatening to consume her entirely.
She could not just stand there and watch him die.
She was not the same broken, traumatized girl who had run away three years ago.
Her eyes darted frantically around the cavern, searching for anything she could use as a weapon.
The flashlight Greg had dropped lay half-buried in the snow, its beam illuminating a sharp, jagged stalactite that had fallen from the ceiling.
Megan lunged for it, her fingers wrapping around the freezing, weaponized ice.
Brenda had Greg pinned against a frozen pillar, her claws completely embedded in his shoulders.
She was laughing, a cruel, triumphant sound that made Megan’s blood boil.
“You should have just signed the merger, Edward,” Brenda taunted, leaning in for the killing strike.
Megan did not think.
She threw her entire body weight forward, driving the sharp stalactite directly into Brenda’s back.
The ice pierced deep into the Alpha’s shoulder blade.
Brenda shrieked, a sound that shattered several icicles hanging from the roof.
She spun around, backhanding Megan with terrifying force.
Megan flew backward, her head cracking agonizingly against the solid ice wall.
Her vision exploded into white stars, a warm stream of blood trickling down her temple.
She collapsed onto the frozen floor, her lungs struggling to draw in the freezing air.
“You pathetic little human,” Brenda hissed, yanking the stalactite from her shoulder with a sickening squelch.
She advanced on Megan, her golden eyes blazing with absolute murderous intent.
“I am going to freeze you piece by piece, while you are still completely conscious.”
But Brenda had made a fatal mistake.
She had turned her back on an injured, enraged Alpha.
Greg surged forward, launching himself onto Brenda’s back with a deafening, earth-shattering roar.
He wrapped his massive arms around her neck, his claws sinking deep into her collarbones.
Brenda thrashed wildly, but Greg was an immovable force of pure, primal fury.
“No one touches my mate,” he snarled, his voice vibrating with absolute, undeniable truth.
He twisted sharply, a horrifying crack echoing through the cavern.
Brenda went completely rigid, her eyes widening in shock before rolling back into her head.
Greg released her, letting her lifeless body crumple onto the snow.
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by Greg’s heavy, ragged breathing.
He dropped to his knees beside Megan, his amber eyes completely frantic.
“Megan,” he gasped, his bloody hands cupping her face with absolute desperation.
“Look at me.”
“Open your eyes.”
Megan blinked sluggishly, fighting the crushing wave of unconsciousness.
“I am okay,” she mumbled, wincing as his thumb brushed the cut on her forehead.
“You are bleeding,” he noted, his voice trembling with an emotion she had never heard from him before.
“So are you,” she replied, gesturing weakly to his torn chest.
Greg let out a shaky, entirely humorless laugh, pulling her carefully against his chest.
He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
The moment Brenda’s heart stopped, the magical humming in the cavern abruptly ceased.
A loud, agonizing cracking sound echoed through the chamber.
Megan pulled back from Greg’s chest, her eyes widening as she looked around the room.
The solid blue ice walls were violently fracturing, massive fissures spreading across the frozen blocks.
The magic holding the victims in stasis was completely unraveling.
“It is breaking,” Megan whispered, scrambling to her feet with Greg’s help.
The block containing Emily shattered first, the teenager collapsing onto the snow with a sharp, gasping breath.
She coughed violently, her body shaking as she curled into a tight ball.
Then, a massive crash echoed from the center of the room.
The thick ice holding Heather violently exploded into a million glittering shards.
Heather pitched forward, and Megan lunged, catching her best friend before she hit the floor.
Heather’s skin was completely freezing to the touch, her lips a terrifying shade of blue.
“Heather,” Megan sobbed, wrapping her arms tightly around the unconscious woman.
“Please, wake up.”
“Please.”
Heather drew in a ragged, desperate breath, her dark eyes fluttering open in absolute confusion.
She stared at Megan, her voice nothing more than a hoarse, broken whisper.
“Megan?” she asked, her teeth chattering so hard she could barely form the word.
“I am here,” Megan cried, burying her face in Heather’s icy shoulder.
“You are safe now.”
“It is over.”
Greg moved efficiently around the cavern, pulling his ruined coat off to wrap around Emily.
He systematically checked the other victims as they broke free from their icy prisons.
Some were entirely catatonic, others weeping uncontrollably, but all of them were miraculously alive.
The Alpha magic had preserved their bodies perfectly, trapping them in a nightmare they were finally waking from.
“We need to get them out of here,” Greg said, his voice entirely completely back to its commanding, Doctor register.
He pulled a satellite phone from his pocket, dialing his beta with rapid, precise movements.
“Tyler, I need a massive medical evac team at the coordinates I am sending you right now.”
He paused, his eyes sweeping over the shivering survivors before locking onto Megan.
“And bring the pack enforcers.”
“The Grants are entirely finished.”
The aftermath was a blur of flashing lights, sirens, and absolute chaos.
Tyler and his team arrived within the hour, wrapping the survivors in thermal blankets and escorting them down the mountain.
The local authorities were completely overwhelmed, staring in shock at the dozens of missing people suddenly reappearing.
Greg’s pack handled the logistics with terrifying efficiency, ensuring Brenda’s body and her enforcers vanished without a trace.
They expertly fed the police a cover story about an underground cult holding the victims hostage.
Megan sat on the back of an ambulance, a thick wool blanket draped heavily over her shoulders.
A paramedic had patched up her head, confirming she only had a minor concussion.
She watched as Heather was loaded onto a stretcher, flashing Megan a weak, reassuring smile before the doors closed.
Emily was reunited with her hysterical parents, the teenager crying as she hugged her mother tightly.
Megan let out a long, shuddering breath, the crushing weight of the last three years finally lifting from her chest.
She had not been crazy.
She had not imagined the ice, or the humming, or the absolute terror.
She had finally brought her best friend home.
“Are you cold?” a deep voice asked from beside her.
Greg stepped into her line of sight, having entirely changed into a fresh, tailored suit brought by his assistant.
He looked exactly like the billionaire Doctor he was pretending to be, except for the bandage visible at his collar.
Megan looked up at him, her heart doing a strange, entirely unbidden flutter in her chest.
“I think I will be cold for the rest of my life,” she admitted, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.
Greg stepped closer, his large frame blocking the freezing wind entirely.
He did not ask for permission.
He simply reached down, lifting her effortlessly into his strong arms.
“What are you doing?”
Megan gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck.
The pack enforcers hauled the remaining Grants away, leaving the frozen resort eerily quiet.
Greg set her down gently, though his hands lingered on her waist.
“The charade is over, Greg.”
“Brenda is dead.”
Greg stopped walking, looking down at her with an expression of absolute, terrifying sincerity.
“Do you honestly think I would risk my life, my pack, and my sanity for a human who was not mine?” he asked quietly.
Megan stared at him, her breath catching in her throat as the truth finally clicked into place.
“When I claimed you on the slopes, I was not entirely lying,” Greg murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek.
“Wolves do not fake mating bonds, Megan.”
“It is physically impossible.”
Megan’s mind raced, completely unable to process the magnitude of his confession.
“But I am human,” she whispered weakly.
“You are mine,” Greg corrected, his voice leaving absolutely no room for argument.
“And I am never letting you go.”
He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was entirely gentle, yet utterly possessing.
Megan closed her eyes, entirely surrendering to the overwhelming warmth radiating from his body.
For the first time in three years, the haunting melody in her mind was entirely silent.
The ice was finally gone, replaced by a fire that would never burn out.
THE END
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Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to [email protected].
