AMELIA
I open my eyes to find myself in a pitch-black room. Sitting on the cold concrete floor, I wince as my muscles ache. My hand instinctively moves to my neck and then my ribs, where I feel the most pain. The bruises haven't healed. Switching my eyes to my werewolf vision to survey the room, I find that I can't. My brows furrow in confusion. I try contacting Marie and get a whimper in response; a sinking realization hits me – they must have injected silver into my bloodstream.
I don't need someone to tell me where I am. I remember everything like it just happened a minute ago. Tears well up in my eyes, remembering the state I last saw my family. I hope they are okay. Wiping the tear that escapes my eyes, I try to focus my mind on getting out of here.
I quickly unmask my scent and wait for my body to regain strength. The ability to mask my scent is one of the many gifts inherited from Mom, a skill that took my entire childhood to master. I vividly recall how I couldn't even attend school until I could successfully conceal my true scent. Tears well up as childhood memories flood my mind, but I forcefully push them aside – now isn't the time to delve into the past.
Sniffling, I attempt to stand up, but my body betrays me, and I drop back to the cold floor, the impact reverberating through my drained muscles. Eyes closed, I grimace as the ache intensifies. Something feels off, and confusion sets in as I look around the dark room, my vision becoming hazy. Panic surges within me – what have they done to me?
“Mask your scent if you don't want to die in the next few seconds,” a voice commands as the lights flicker on in the room, prompting me to tightly shut my eyes. The thick British accent sounds eerily familiar, but in my weakened state, I can't spare the energy to contemplate where I know it from.
My heart pounds violently in my chest, each beat sending pulses of pain through my body. Breathing becomes a struggle, my breaths coming out in short, labored pants. The sudden pain in my heart only intensifies the growing sense of dread.
"I can't breathe," I rasp out, my words barely above a whisper, feeling my heart tighten.
"Do as I fucking asked, and you will!" the person commands, and I comply. Gasping, I fill my lungs with air, panting hard. I didn't do it initially because I didn't think it would help.
Slowly I open my eyes and sit up to see the person who saved me. My eyes widen in terror, seeing that it's my mate and he definitely didn't save me. Instead, he kept me alive for whatever he plans to do to me. I back away from him as he stands a foot away. I hit the wall and jump in fright. My heart pounds as he stares down at me. He has proven to me that he can hurt me. I just pray I go away without too much pain.
Silent, he stares at me with eyes brimming with hatred, scrutinizing every inch of my dirt-covered body from being on the floor. I observe that he has freshened up, shedding the bloodstained clothes. I remember earlier how his white button-up was drenched in the blood of my family and people. My heart aches, tears welling up in my eyes. It's disheartening that this will forever be my initial image of him.
Pushing back the tears in my eyes, I lock gazes with him, maintaining eye contact as I question, "What did you do to me?"
“I know what you are, so don't fucking try to unmask your scent again,” he says, his British accent evident as he speaks. He completely ignores my question. I’ve always loved the British accent, but now it sends a shiver down my spine whenever I hear it, and not in a good way.
“Do you wish to kill me?” I ask.
“Why the fuck do you have that face?” He snaps, clenching his jaw. Confused, I touch my face, wondering if something is wrong with it. I won’t say I'm the finest person in the world, but I don’t think my face is unappealing.
“You could’ve fucking looked like anyone. Why the fuck did you have to look like her?” He roars with an anger that makes me flinch. I recall he said something similar in the ballroom. Was there something I was missing?
“I don’t know,” I reply, unsure.
“You don’t know, you don’t fucking know,” he barks, crouching to my eye level. I instinctively retreat, the cold wall scraping against my skin as I press back into it. My eyes shut, shielding me from the intensity of his anger. The palpable fury makes me clench my dress tightly, the fabric almost tearing beneath my fingers. Amidst the turmoil, a sense of sorrow seeps into my heart, realizing I'm the unwitting source of such rage in my mate. I wonder what I did to be cursed to be mated to someone like him.
His scent envelops me, filling my nose, and like magic, my fists loosen around my dress. My body relaxes. I'm not surprised. Terrified as I may be of him, he is still my mate, and his scent will always do that to me.
I begin to slowly pull my eyes open when suddenly he curses, punching the wall closest to my head. The impact shatters the barrier, and a storm of debris settles around me. I freeze, my body stiffening as my heart begins to hammer violently against my chest. Did he mean to hit me but missed? The chilling thought sends a shiver down my spine, and in that moment, I scream. His callous hand forces its way into my hair, clenching it in a vice-like grip.
"Open your fucking eyes, dog," his growl echoes in my face, and I comply. My tear-filled eyes met his. The hurt of being labeled the ultimate insult to a werewolf by my own mate pierces deeper than mere insult. I should be offended, but instead, I feel a profound sense of hurt.
"I'm going to give you one chance, one fucking chance to tell me where your family is,” he declares, his mesmerizing green eyes locked onto mine.
Swallowing hard, I muster a response. "I don't know where they are." Despite knowing, I won't divulge their location.
"Amelia!" he growls, intensifying his grip on my hair.
"I don't know," I repeat, still refusing to give them up.
Releasing my hair, he stands tall. "You asked for this," he declares, his towering figure casting an intimidating shadow.
Pausing at the cell door, he delivers a final warning. "You will wish you told me the truth by the time she's done with you." With that, he exits, leaving me haunted by questions about the mysterious 'she.'
I walk around the room, searching for anything to help me pick the lock on my cell door. It's made of silver, so trying to break it down is out of the option. My actions suddenly halt, hearing the cell door squeak open. I whip my head toward the door, praying in my heart my mate isn't back to make good on his threat. I exhale when I get a different scent than his as the lights come on in the room. Eric and a woman with a herby scent tread into the room. The woman must be a water witch. Most of them are healers and deal with a lot of herbs. Witches are grouped by elements of nature, fire, water, earth, and air. They cast spells based on which element they are gifted with."Hi, Amelia," Eric greets. I remain silent, my gaze fixed on him and the water witch at his side, trying to decipher why they are here. My mate mentioned a woman would make me regret not disclosing where my family might be hiding. Is this water witch the woman he was talking about? As I said, most of them are
“Do you know something, dear?” Ava inquires, circling around me, her footsteps resounding off the walls.“No,” I reply, desperately hoping my voice doesn’t betray the fear that consumed me, anticipating whatever cruel intentions she had in store.“Nick has asked me to force your mind to tell me where your family might be,” She whispers behind me, sending a cold shiver down my spine. I whip my head around to face her, but she vanishes when I turn. The lights in the room go off, and I'm plunged into utter darkness. My heart pounds as I catch her scent and feel her breath on me, intensifying the dread within me as I remain unable to see her in the pitch-black room."Isn't that forbidden magic?" I ask, spinning around the room as I try to find her. I finally realize why I was treated and what drug might have been given to me. They wanted to ensure I didn't die while she controlled my mind. Forbidd
No lycan on Earth harbors a deeper grudge against my family than Nickolas. My dad was responsible for killing his father. The only reason he suggested a peace treaty was due to his concern for the potential extinction of his people. This concern arose from the war the late Lycan king waged against werewolves, or at least that's what he led us to believe. In recent years, werewolf numbers have surged and terrorized lycans due to their numerical advantage, which I believe was allowed intentionally to mislead us. Nickolas requested a peace treaty, claiming the need to end the slaughter of his people, regardless of his desire to see my father’s head.Lycans and werewolves, although of the same species, had long been enemies. Lycans, possessing superior strength, speed, and immortality, were traditionally oppressive towards werewolves. The origins of werewolves are traced back to a witch's creation, seeking to empower a supernatural force capable of standing against the domi
NICKOLASI stride out of the room where Amelia is, making my way to my office within the castle. As I approach the door, my legal advisor and best friend, Eric, intercepts me."What is it, Eric?" I inquire, entering my office with him following closely behind."Your mat..." Eric starts, but I cut him off abruptly, my jaw clenching as I ball my fists."Don’t ever fucking call her that," I retort through gritted teeth, my tone lethal."Got it," he responds, lifting his hand in surrender."She is nothing but a fucking prisoner to me; always remember that," I add, walking towards the chair behind my desk."Got it again.""What about her do you want to discuss?" I ask, taking my seat and retrieving my glasses from the desk drawer. Putting them on, I start sorting through the documents on my desk, searching for the most impor
AMELIA As I sprint through the forest, my ears pick up on the rhythmic sound of footsteps following closely behind me. Panic sets in shit – they must have seen through my ruse. My pace quickens, though I'm certain I'm already pushing myself to the limits of my speed. The sounds of pursuit draw nearer, accompanied by an unsettling scent permeating the air – the unmistakable aroma of Lycans. No, they can't catch me. I decide to take a risk, recognizing it as my only hope at this moment. I come to a quick stop, reaching for my shirt to take it off. Shifting requires undressing first; I don't have spare clothes to change into once I shift back, and I'd ruin this one if I shift without removing them first. The footsteps grow louder, and the urgency intensifies. The forest around me seems to hold its breath. Just at that moment, a thud echoes behind me, signaling someone's abrupt landing. The rich scent of rainforest envelops me, and my eyes w
I turn away from the door, curling up and drawing my knees close to my chest. With my eyes shut tight, I seek solace in the darkness—not for sleep, as rest is hard to come by in the enemy's den. I must bide my time, allowing my wounds to mend and gathering my strength before devising my next move.My brief moment of peace shatters as someone seizes my arm with force, wrenching me from the bed and sending me crashing to the ground. Ember's eyes blaze with unmistakable hatred as she looms over me, her grip unyielding as she drags me across the floor. A sharp pain shoots through my side as it scrapes against the unforgiving surface, eliciting a wince from me.Gritting my teeth, I lift my head defiantly, meeting Ember's gaze with a steely glare of my own. She knows full well that Nickolas has just drained the blood out of me, leaving me in no condition to withstand such rough treatment. As for how I didn't hear her approach, the result from Nickolas's draining the bl
NICKOLASI stand by the bed, glaring at my mate as she sleeps, a scowl etched onto my features. The sheets are stained with her blood, mud, and her fucking intoxicating scent—a scent that both infuriates and entices me. A low growl rumbles in my chest, remembering how amazing she scents. I clench my fists tightly, my jaw grinding as I curse the heavens for making her my mate. It could have been anyone but her, yet fate had other plans. Now, I find myself getting hard at the memory of her scent.They say your mate’s scent is the most intoxicating scent you'll ever encounter, and they weren’t fucking wrong. I could inhale her essence endlessly and never tire of it. The mere thought of burying my nose in her neck while thrusting into her hard sends a surge of desire coursing through me, my arousal evident in the pulsing of my dick. Fuck! I force myself to regain composure, running a hand across my face in frustration. I needed to fuck, but
AMELIAThe stinging of my cheeks jolts me awake, sending a surge of fear and confusion coursing through my veins. As I glance around the room, disoriented by the abrupt awakening, I see Ember standing by the edge of the bed, her gaze ablaze with intensity. There's no need for words; I understand immediately that she just used a slap to rouse me from my sleep.Gingerly, I raise my hand to my swollen cheek, the ache throbbing beneath my fingertips. I meet Ember's glare with a mixture of shock and apprehension, the weight of her hatred hanging heavy in the air between us."Get your fucking ass up," she barks, her words a harsh echo in the room. With a forceful tug, she yanks me out of bed once again, but this time, I manage to maintain my balance. I regained some of my strength as I healed during my sleep."Follow me," Ember commands, her voice laced with authority as she strides towards t