Marko N. Ivanov
“How could he do this? How could he do this to me?”
Mother’s scream was audible through the halls, each question perfectly punctuated by the shattering of more hallway décor.
With a mere announcement, the most regal wolf in the kingdom was reduced to hysterics—a sight he had never witnessed before.
The butler was the first to shield Marko from the ferocious howls that followed. This act added to his tension by confirming that what was indeed wrong was diabolically irreparable.
"Is there some sort of proof that they are mates?”
His question came off with more emotion than he, as the heir to the throne, was permitted to portray.
"His-"
The butler hesitated, gazing left and right as though he was about to utter words that would endanger his life.
“His majesty was the one to proclaim that, so we must believe his words. Even the elder council remains in disarray.”
"What of mother? What becomes of her now?"
That wasn’t what he wished to ask; what he meant to ask was what would become of him. Will his father favour the child he will bear with his mate now that they selfishly decided to wed despite the protests?
If he could abandon his mother, a woman who has been by his side since his crowning, for a mate he met coincidentally, what chance did that grant him?
“Hush...your highness, not so loud; this is mere servant gossip, but one of the maids overheard whispers that the permission to wed granted to his majesty restricts him from siring children with his new wife and prohibits divorce with the queen.”
The servant whispered words that ascertained both his and mother’s positions, yet the bitterness remained.
How could father betray them in this way?
How could he be so selfish that he would subject his mother to a marriage of three with unequal love because he would quite obviously favour his so-called mate?
How can anyone excuse that?
**
The brightness in the room burned Marko’s eyes as he jolted from a bitter dream.
His mouth felt dry, and his hand still clenched last night’s glass as a throbbing pain that yielded to nothing danced around his head.
Thanks to Ace, his wolf, his office remained trashed at the realisation that rejection would be the only way his fated entanglement would end. A cruel thing for his wolf to accept, but there was no other choice.
He could not even fathom falling for the nasty little thing responsible for his mother’s life. Never! He would sooner-
Alba’s golden lust-filled eyes that met his gaze back at the restaurant flashed through his mind. The inky blackness of her hair had fallen as she bowed to him, a sight that did wonders to his wish to dominate, but the kicker had been that damned scent of wild berries and cold cream that filled the train, enticing him to devour her where she stood.
He hardened at the image of her writhing beneath him, the lovely fullness of her breasts swaying to his motion, mouth parted…calling his name, begging for his part in her release as her pride remained entirely replaced by her need for him.
His fist hit the table, and a curse left his mouth.
If word got out that his stepsister was his mate, then-
The sound of paper tearing brought his focus to his gigantified hand; flexing it a few times helped it regain its form; as for the torn documents, they needed to be redone.
A knock on the door sounded, and he ordered the party in after a quick adjustment of his trousers.
After a quick bow, Alpha Rhett settled on one of the sofas in the office and let out a low whistle.
“Love what you have done with the place, new decorator, perchance?”
“What do you want, Alpha.”
Contrary to his sister, Alpha Rhett was more easygoing.
Typically, Marko would term him as one who didn’t know his place, but his loyalty remained profound since his ascension to the throne.
"It's happened again, your majesty."
The alpha began, his expression turning sombre.
"Another oil spill? Where?"
"The coastal front."
"Who is on damage control."
"Magnolia and Gamma Brielle volunteered to manage the clean-up, but the people are growing restless. The energy that connects us to the Goddess is growing too polluted; we should cease all mining activities until-.”
"Did they take a priestess?"
Marko interrupted.
Oil mining was their main export; halting it would risk the kingdom’s financial crisis.
"None of the temple priestesses are spirit-born; there is only so much that they can do for the energy-"
"It's better than nothing."
He cut the complaining Alpha off.
The kingdom was growing restless over something he had no control over.
Spirit-borne wolf priestesses are the rarest form of wolves, so rare that their mere existence spark wars. The last ever case was fifty years ago. The pack they belonged to traded the priestess’s services expensively, ultimately leading to their demise as the less fortunate territories allied for war. Because of that, if such a wolf exists now, it would be kept under tight surveillance.
To pile onto his stress, he wanted to pin his callous stepsister to the bed and make her cry his name as she tightened her flesh mercilessly around him.
A scoff escaped him, and again a knock sounded on the door.
“What?”
“Your Majesty, the prisoner is awake.”
His aide stated, and silence came down the room.
**
Alba Crane
The food is placed inconveniently at the base of the bed; I cannot reach it when the radius of the chains binding my hands is to my waist.
Only one servant has attended to me.
A room with a bed and bars. A comfortable prison cell, yet it is still a prison.
The silk gown is modest, a perfect sleeping gown for all ages; the problem comes about in my lack of undergarments.
The essential oils on my flesh let me know that the castle servants had bathed me at some point, even when I was a princess; this was the one tradition I avoided.
It feels like a dire invasion of privacy, but I am not here as a guest.
The sound of a metallic door clanking open rings through the humid dungeon before the scent of pine, eucalyptus, and expensive scotch follow.
I lift my nose in the air, subconsciously yearning for the scent, but as it grows stronger and my skin regains its heat, I struggle for modesty, suddenly aware of the areas the gown lacked in that aspect.
"How do you like your room."
The Lycan begins as he opens the cell and steps further into my space.
"The view is ghastly."
A lie, even gruff, he looks delicious, but that is beside the point.
"This is where my mother was constrained during the trials you instigated."
My stiffness at his topic of choice must have been obvious because a scoff follows.
I do not want to recall the circumstances that led to my mother's death, even less what transpired after.
"His majesty must have a lot of disposable income to rent an entire train station."
I say to change the topic.
"I rented every last-minute means of transport out of town, ferries, train, car rentals open past eleven; they weren’t that many; thank goodness you were predictable enough to ascertain that my money did not go to waste, then again, you would run from your own shadow if it spooked you enough."
The condescension in his voice leaves him guilty of nothing; in all his narratives, he must be the victim, even if I am the one chained to a wall.
"This is kidnapping, you motherfu-!"
"Watch your mouth!”
The flickering of his gaze from human to his Lycan form tells me of his fury, which threatens to swallow my own.
The pressure in the room that rises with his anger threatens to cut off my oxygen supply.
"That was not your first turning…was it? Come to think of it; it’s almost as if you knew we were mates.”
He nears me, so I kick him, but he catches my foot with ease.
His strong hold sends delicious sparks up my spine, but all too soon, he drops it.
“Answer while I ask nicely, Alba.”
His gentle tone is unbecoming; It feels as if he is playing good cop bad cop with me; he is even audacious enough to settle next to me that his scent washes over me as the mattress sinks under his weight.
I hate this feeling.
I want to lash at him, sink my flesh into him for his selfishness, yet I know the minute I sink my teeth into his flesh, I would sink the rest of myself as well, over and over, until I reeked of nothing but him.
That I can feel that way about one who treats me as if I am so far beneath him that he can take me on his whims and corner me into self-destruction is one thing, but that he can do that and expect my cooperation is downright rude.
"Fuck off."
As the words leave my lips, my spit follows and lands under his left eye to trickle down his chin.
A mistake, I realise all too soon when his beastly hand flies to my neck and shoves me to the headrest.
I can feel the softness of his white fur beneath my chin as his hand enlarges to his Lycan form, whose fullness I have only seen once and that is held exclusively by the ruling royal family and passed on generationally.
Though his hold is tight, he does not constrict my breathing.
A sharp snap sounds and my left hand falls free from the chain’s constraint, only for his monstrous strength to fling me to my back.
My head is pressed to the wall, but my breasts rest on the bed’s head support with both hands held above my frame by his large, transformed hand.
I should have trained, if only for self-defence, but would it have helped if the damned beast could snap thick chain as if it were a rubber band?
Something painful, heavy and hard lands solely on my right buttock with a 'smack' that ignores the silk garment’s padding to send a sharp stinging pain through me, eliciting a gasp from my lips.
"Did...did you just-" His heavy hand descends on my flesh once again before my question about the action’s occurrence solidifies. He...spanked me? The chain hanging from my freed hand is heavy; only his restrictive support permits it to stay above my head. Swinging it to his face is just as impossible as prying my hands from his hold. Again his hand falls upon my flesh, striking with such precision the spot that has just begun to heat as if intending my skin to blister. Why? Why does he only strike one place? "Are you ...in-insane?" Again, his hand falls on me, and a whimper escapes me this time. “Stop! You bast-!” Again…the same spot, effectively cutting my curse in its course. "Apologise." I don’t want to…! I struggle against his hold, and he seems to take that as my answer, so again, his hand falls on the precise sensitised spot that feels seconds away from searing. "Sorry." I utter quickly in such a low voice that his breathing could swallow its utterance. I did no
Alba’s blood purifies toxins. Marko repeated the thought in his head as if he could have misheard it. Suddenly, sitting felt like the worst position, so he stood, yet his legs felt too restless to keep still. Before long, he was pacing, trying his best to piece the information coming his way with his stirring emotions, but when he finally failed, he turned to the physician. “Explain it in a way that I can understand.” “Well!” She began excitedly with no heed to his tension. “When you first brought the former princess to me, every test I did said she overdosed on wolfsbane, but she was still alive, which is impossible! She should have died ten times over with the amount in her blood; that’s when it hit me; the amount of wolfsbane in her body was the reason she turned! Like an adverse reaction because her wolf form purifies faster.” Sharon paced as she prattled on words that did not make sense to him. Wolfsbane? Overdosed? What the hell? What more did Alba keep from him? “Get
“How long have I been asleep?” The question slips from my lips as I struggle out of bed. “A little over a week.” A week? “I have never even had a nosebleed before,” I mutter as my feet hit the cold floor. A week has passed, and I am still in the silk gown, only now it is peppered in crimson droplets throughout its length. “Wow, your regeneration must be fast despite the wolfsbane in your system; imagine how it will be without?” I still at her cavalier words. I am uncertain when she started writing, but she scribbles furiously on her notepad while addressing me, almost as though she is studying me. “Wolfsbane?” Did I mishear her? “Yes! There was a ton of it in your system.” If she knows that, then…doesn’t his majesty? Good god, why is this happening? I am almost glad I insisted she doesn’t call him, but how much time will prepare me for what he intends with me now that my cards are on the table? “Is that why I collapsed?” “Partly,” She began. “Well, I think so. You we
"I will." His answer comes with no hesitation that it stings despite the ‘rejection’ being my suggestion. I can understand his clarity; the outcome of our situation as 'stepsiblings' and ‘royals’ is inevitable. Yet even if we did not have those barriers to hide behind, I am certain rejection would have been the outcome; we are but a match made in hell. “Good.” I respond, hoping no emotion laces my voice. “I’d like to bathe; give me space.” He does not budge; he merely shakes his head from left to right and points to the bathroom. Great. I do not blame him for not trusting me; the thought of escape has not entirely left my mind. Any other time, I would have sassed him into submitting to my demand for bathing privacy, but I can feel tears whose origin I cannot fully place threaten to flood my eyes, so before they grow noticeable, I rush to the bathroom and shut the door to lean on it as they spill. Utterly ridiculous that I can feel this deeply over nothing, yet even my express
Crazy. The Lycan has gone crazy...yet- Yet what? My hesitation is proof that he has not used his Lycan ability that makes wolves follow his command; but it is the forwardness, the simple desperation in his voice that makes me consider dropping my throbbing hand; yet if we solidify our bond in such a fashion, doesn’t that only spell misfortune? "No." In my head, my voice is firm, so why did it come off as a whisper? "Why?" The Lycan’s voice is rough as he asks the question as if he bore innocence to how twisted we make each other grow. 'Why?' I played with his question again in my mind. How many reasons did he have the time for? The first would be that I do not trust him. The second is that I do not have enough information on what he does or does not know about me; other than my wolf purifies and that I dosed in wolfsbane, what else is he withholding? The man I know, the man I ran from, is vindictive, so if there is more, I need it on the table. All of that aside, there is
The Lycan’s hold on me had lessened, and I could no longer hide my arousal behind his aggression.After his trace of my bruised buttock, his restless hand lifts my hoodie, which matches the pants pooling on my ankles, to expose my chest to him. He tugs my bra low, settling my breasts atop them and while I wait for him to grant my stiff peaks attention, he doesn’t; it is as if he only meant them for his view."Please."I whisper, hoping he would, at the very least, soothe the rising need that threatened to claim the very air from my lungs; I almost sigh in relief as he presses his lips to my nipples, rubbing his softness against their stiffness so steadily that I hold my breath, ready for the feel of his warm moist tongue, only it doesn't come."You know what I want.”He whispers his response with his face buried in the softness of my bosom as he once again inhales me.“Call out the name of the man you deem disappointing.”I bite my tongue to stop myself from yielding to his demand; we
I am grateful for the brief rain that followed our arrival to the capital; it washed our trail. Lucky for Kaisa and me, there seemed to be a night market or some festival at the capital’s heart, so the hope for finding a good deal on the kind of garment that would maintain my anonymity soared. An hour passed, and not to seem like an airhead, but while I found the cloak, I forgot that Ketria used a different currency system. So, in essence, I was gifted a coat by a mother who thought I resembled a beggar because of the mud coating my garments. When I tried to tell her that I would repay her, she gave me a pitiful look as if to say, 'oh...you poor dreamer, life is harsh'; so, in a sense, she lost respect for me twice—oh, not twice because I had to borrow fare to head to the mountains afterwards. The embarrassment coursing through me is palpable, but what makes it worse is the harsh realisation that the Lycan took everything from me; my phone, wallet, passport, clothes...I have nothin
The sharpness of Alba's glare was one that he was unaccustomed to; typically, she lowered herself in his presence, but since her meeting with Father, it had grown sharper, as if she intended to drop all the façades that made their relationship tolerable.It was a hot day, the kind that signalled rain in the evening, so the bead of sweat dripping from the side of her face despite the lack of physical exercise was understandable; that it disappeared distractingly between her braless breasts held firmly by a tank top was expected, that he noticed the entire movement of a bead of sweat was another thing entirely.Since when had he begun to feel differently around her? Nothing as intense as what he’d heard mates feel around each other’s presence, but more that he grew aware of her as a woman; his eyes took in her folds, her movements, even her body, in a way that was ill-permitted.She had turned eighteen a week ago, so his wolf would have sensed if they were mates, and he would have promp