VALERIE
Certified virgin slaves were a rare commodity, because it was difficult to ensure a girl was intact. Werewolves didn’t know much about human anatomy, and they didn’t care to invest the time into checking each and every one of us. But the girls at this particular shop were extracted from The Cell—a place where underage humans were imprisoned until they reached the ripe age of sixteen.
For most of us, there was no chance to ruin ourselves. In fact, for most of us, it had been a decade since we saw a human boy in person.
I was brought to The Cell at thirteen-years-old. They stuck me in that place for three years, before I was transported here, to Lockheart Botique—a small slave emporium in the market district. Sixteen was not the age of purchase for a slave, but rather, the age where we first began our lessons. We were taught how to provide for our masters, how to please them, and how to act as good service for the rest of our lives. The aunts wanted us well-prepared before we reached the proper selling age of eighteen. After all, a slave’s attitude toward their master was their most important attribute.
Since the new Alpha took reign, this practice had stopped. Now, slaves had to be eighteen before they were traded at all. The other slaves thought of this as a blessing. But I did not find much mercy in it.
At least in The Cell, we were safe from the potential masters who stalked our store front, hungrily eying girls like they were meat on hooks.
I tried not to meet the Alpha’s eyes as I felt his gaze boring into me. I was afraid if I glanced him in the face, my expression would be red-hot with anger.
If he was truly the blessed Alpha everyone thought him to be, he would have eliminated slavery altogether. He was no better than the others.
He was no hero to us.
The Alpha glanced past my shoulder to Aunt Louis. “What’s her background?” he asked.
Of course, Aunt Louis thought he was referring to Ashley. Fair-haired, light-eyed slaves like her were best-sellers.
“Oh, you’re a fan of blondes? Well, this here is one of the new girls. The cell sent her here just a week ago,” said Aunt Louis. “She’s clean, I can assure you. But I do believe we have more suitable girls in the back of the store. We don’t put them on display until the busy seasons. Let me show you—“
“No,” said the Alpha. “This one.” His hard eyes slid over to me and stuck on my face like thorns. It was only then that I realized I was looking directly at him. My heart sank and I tore my gaze away, watching a grow whip past the window to snatch a worm up from a puddle.
Lucky worm, I thought. How I would give anything to be snatched up and eaten by a bird right now.
“O-oh,” said Aunt Louis. “Well, certainly I have more just like her. I’ll go fetch one of a more…acceptable breed.”
“No,” said the Alpha. “I want to know about her. What do you mean by ‘acceptable breed’?”
“W-well,” Aunt Louis stammered, “I’m afraid she’s not clean. Her parents were criminals.” She came closer and lifted my wrist with a jerk to show The Alpha the wristband I wore.
The mark of filth.
To be unclean meant I had been related to one of the various crimes committed against werewolves during the war.
This, however, was a lie.
Wolves accused my parents of heinous things and killed them without evidence and without hesitation. They were not criminals, and I was not the child of criminals, but I wore the band anyway. I could not take it off if I tried; it had wrapped around my wrist and melded at the metal chain. It was only to be broken by my future master.
To wolves, this wristband signified that I was unworthy of purchase—but it was also as good as a sales tag, announcing a lower price for my purchase than the other girls. Even still, no one wanted me.
“I asked you what her background was,” said the Alpha with a bite of impatience.
“I’ll go get her records,” Aunt Rita volunteered, scuttling to the back of the room.
“We keep records of all the girls,” Aunt Louis assured the Alpha. “Our policy is transparency.
Aunt Rita rushed to a locker in the back of the room and pried open a drawer full of organized files. Several of the other aunts fluttered over to help her. I had never seen them in such disarray before, but I supposed it was to be expected. Time was of the essence with all customers, but the Alpha was a special case. To keep the Alpha waiting would put them in very bad lighting.
And after all, this was the first time he had ever visited the shop. For the Aunts, it could be the only chance they had to make an impression on him, which seemed difficult given that they were all nervous wrecks.
It was all quite funny to me. I could have easily spit out my name, my background, what happened before I arrived in the Cell and who my family was. But slaves were not allowed to speak in front of buyers—and to do so in front of such a prestigious wolf would be the end of me.
“Number one-two-seven…number one-two-seven…” Rita was muttering in a panic. Then she drew a file from the drawer. “Found it! Number one-two-seven!” She crossed the store, splaying the file open in her hands. “Number one-hundred-and-twenty-seven. Valerie Davis. Her parents were executed during the second raid on the human town named Westshield, fifty miles from Orheroad.”
I felt myself flinch at the word executed. At the memories of my hometown. Of home. My eyes settled on the floorboards at my feet.
“What was the meaning of their execution?” asked the Alpha.
“According to this, they were accused of…” she hesitated, flipping to another page. “They were accused of…” There was a pause. Then Aunt Rita continued, “Missing.”
“Missing?” asked the Alpha. “What do you mean by missing?”
“It isn’t here,” said Rita, a bead of sweat suddenly forming on her brow. She flipped and flipped, then looked up with a lost expression. “The records don’t show the accusations on her parents.”
I let out a deep, aching breath. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. How ridiculous. The court had yet to decide what crime my parents had committed, and yet…it had been years since their slaughter.
It made no sense. Each and every human found guilty of a crime had an accusation and a sentencing. There were so many ways to be sentenced for crimes against wolves; killing a werewolf, attacking one, engaging in a plot meant to harm wolves. No matter what the reason, wolves always made certain that humans faced the cruelest punishment available. They were ruthless in our sentencing.
But they were not the smartest of the races. Errors were made often in the judicial system.
It was nothing to werewolves—not even a mistake worth looking into. But to me, it was my entire life. It was my family.
The Alpha’s shadow swept over the floorboards at my feet. I realized he was moving closer. Trying to get a look at me.
But he remained silence.
So that’s the end, I thought.
Then, suddenly, I felt his fingers beneath my chin. Strong but gentle, he lifted my gaze from the floor and forced it upon his.
“Tell me. What had your parent’s done?”
VALERIE I couldn’t breathe. I hadn’t expected the Alpha to address me directly. No one addressed slaves directly. We were property and doing so was about the equivalent of speaking to vase or a painting on the wall. We were expensive, but not valuable. We were disposable. We weren’t people, but things. What had your parents done? I wished I knew. I wished I could formulate any kind of proper response, but my blood was in my face and my heart was in my throat, and words were not something I could choke out when the Alpha’s eyes bore into me like this. I wish I knew what my parents had done. I wish I could absolve myself of the anger and suspicion. I almost wished they were guilty of some heinous crime, so my heart would stop beating with vengeance at the mention of them. I didn’t know how to answer. I felt a slap on the back of my chair, and a whoosh of air—like it had been whipped with a twisted rag. “The Alpha asked you a question!” Aunt Rita snipped. The aunts loved to threat
VALERIE I gulped. One of the Alpha’s men came forward and offered a hand to help me from my chair. I wobbled as I stood, my legs numb and weak beneath me. The moment they had the coin in their hands, the mood in the shop shifted dramatically. Smiles blossomed over their faces and they looked to one another giddily. “How generous of you, my Alpha. You are correct—she is quite a unique girl. Won’t find another like her. Please do enjoy!” Aunt Rita, who just a moment ago looked like she was going to faint, was suddenly revitalized. She fluttered in front of him and gestured back toward a large display of “tools” used to keep slaves in line. Things like collars, cuffs, whips and a variety of toys—some I knew the purpose of and others that were simply question-marks on the wall. I shivered at the thought of any of those items being used on me. The Alpha’s gaze flickered back to me. There was a slight tilt to his lips—the slightest twitch of a smirk as he said, “No need, thank you.” M
VALERIE The Alpha said nothing as we continued our walk out of the market square, where a vehicle awaited us. Wolves themselves didn’t require cars. They were much stronger and much larger than humans—and in their shifted form, they had enough endurance to travel at quick speeds all day long. But then again, Alphas probably preferred to be driven around on business. The car that awaited us was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was sleek and low—the kind of car that probably used to air on television ads decades ago. Vehicles were hard to come by since the factories all closed—but of course, the Alpha had his connections. It was more than likely that he had the thing personally designed and built just for him. It was a wonder what the wealthy did with their money while others starved. I found my reflection in the dark windows. I was such a ragged, unkempt thing. Why would he want me? Chad took the driver’s seat and the engine roared to life like a wild beast, woken from its
VALERIE I didn’t know what to say. What was allowed when speaking to an Alpha? Was I to wait until he addressed me? Could I speak first? Surely, I couldn’t just say something like, “Can I call you Alpha instead?” Could I? After a moment of my silent deliberations, the Alpha seemed to give up on any chance of a reply. “Nevermind,” he said. Then he turned to the glaring man in the passenger seat. “That’s enough, Ralph. You can rest easily now. This journey has been tiresome enough.” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but Ralph nodded his head and his unfriendly gaze finally lifted off of me. Truly, he couldn’t have thought I would try to hurt the Alpha. What was he, a damned guard dog? Outside, the landmarks had finally begun to change. A greenness began to take over the earth—a color I hadn’t seen since my parents were still alive. I gaped at the vast forest of trees awaiting us, a slight excitement beating in my chest. Calm down, I told myself. You’re still a slave. Your life is still
VALERIE It was a well-known fact that werewolves were among the most attractive species on earth, but this man was something else. He looked like a prince, plucked straight from a fairytale. His hair was blond, just long enough to curl beneath his ear. His eyes the color of lightning—blue and pooling with light. He was lean, but strong. Not quite like the burly guards that accompanied the Alpha. He wore a shirt, half-buttoned that showed his pale flesh beneath, white as the marble stone we walked upon. Tangled in his arms was a human girl. She reminded me a bit of Ashley, with her pretty face and her long golden hair. She wore nothing but a thin night dress that saved little to the imagination. But despite that she was human, she was donned in fine jewelry and makeup, which made me think that she was either from a prestigious family, or she had been gifted those things by someone much more fortunate. Her face was glazed in ecstasy, and I could tell from the lost look in her eyes th
VALERIE How had I not realized? He had all the traits of a vampire: a sharp-boned, handsome face, skin the color of fresh fallen-snow—and the glinting I’d noticed must’ve been his fangs peaking out over his devious smile. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what vampires looked like, or that I wouldn’t have been able to identify one in person—but this man called Lucas was different than the vampires I’d come to know. He was larger, stronger, almost the size of a werewolf. This was unusual for vampires, who were often just as small in stature as humans. Then again, I had only met a vampire once before. It had happened at a wedding reception I’d attended with my parents and Mathilda. The bride and groom had been close family friends, and they’d celebrated their marriage at their newly acquired home in a small, quaint little village. Things were different then. There was still good in the world, and the war had not destroyed most of what we held dear. The couple were deeply in love, and th
VALERIE I followed obediently. What else was a slave to do? As long as I obeyed, he hadn’t a reason to punish me. Once we reached the top of the staircase, I allowed myself to look around for the first time. Over the banister, a large lounge room came into view. It was dark and spacious, with leather furniture and walls made of stone. A fire radiated from somewhere inside. I wondered why so much space was necessary. Who would be spending their time in such a room? We passed, and heading toward a room at the end of another long hallway. Two ornate doors awaited us, the scent of sweet oak filling the air. As we approached, I noticed the guards at the door—two on either side. The door itself was made of a tawny bronze material, looking like it weighed more than the both of us combined. Was this where I would be kept? After all, making an escape through those doors would be impossible. I supposed it was better than a locked cell. The Alpha stopped before the guards, and waited as th
VALERIE By the time I’d arrived back downstairs, the foyer had filled with the wafting scents of fresh-cooked meats and baked bread. I wasn’t sure why I had been invited to dinner when it was probably more fitting for a servant to be in the kitchen actually cooking the meal, but I couldn’t deny that the smells wreathing me were irresistible. Flavor was not something we experienced often back at the slave shop. The aunts complied to the Alpha’s orders to feed us meat and milk every week, but seasoning and sweets were something we only caught a whiff of when the windows were left open on a windy afternoon. I rounded the foyer and stood at the threshold of the dining room, watching servants buzz around the table. They dropped off platters full of food, and laid out silverware in a distinct order. The sight made me nervous. Which spoons was I meant to use? Which knives and forks? One of the servants pulled back a chair when he spotted me and gestured for me to sit beside the Alpha, ac