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1104 Words
Selene was still trembling when two soldiers grabbed her by the arms. Her wounds had been cleaned, and now they had started to heal, no longer bleeding. Lyria screamed her name from the cell, watching her sister being taken away, left behind.
"Where are you taking her?" she cried, reaching through the iron bars, her delicate hands stretching out desperately.
"Anton wants to see the little mutt now," one of the guards laughed.
Selene tried to resist, but she was tired, weak, and her strength was nothing compared to those men. She was shoved down the freezing halls, naked, wet, and shivering from the cold—dragged like an object from one place to another.
They stopped in front of a massive staircase leading to the castle's central tower, a corridor lined with torches and iron doors. The slave handler was already there, standing with her bloodstained whip and a stern expression, still furious about the defiance Selene had shown even while bleeding and weak.
"Looks like you got lucky, little princess," she sneered. "The Supreme Alpha picked you as his personal slave. The position every girl here dreams of, handed to a fresh arrival..."
Selene bared her fangs at her.
"He’ll regret it."
"Oh, he will," Emma chuckled. "Just not the way you think."
She opened the door herself.
The room was massive, plush carpets, stone walls decorated with war trophies, weapons, mounted wolf heads, crests stolen from other packs. Everything the Supreme Alpha had claimed over the years. In the center stood a huge bed with black sheets, an open canopy, and high pillows. The air smelled of leather and herbal incense, but underneath it all, Selene sensed something else. A scent she couldn’t name, something that sent a chill down her spine.
Two slave women were already inside, emotionless. The older one held a tiny piece of fabric, a sheer, short garment that covered almost nothing.
"Dress her," the handler ordered, leaving the room laughing.
Selene stepped back, growling.
"Over my dead body."
But they grabbed her. The slaves didn’t speak. They were fast, trained. Even though Selene kicked, shoved, and bit, they forced the outfit onto her. The so-called "clothing" was an insult, a thin-strapped thong and a top that barely covered her n*****s. She was practically naked. Humiliated.
Then the doors opened again.
And for the first time since the invasion, since what should have been her wedding, she saw him.
Her captor. Her tormentor. And apparently now, her owner.
Anton.
He entered the room like he owned the world, dressed in leather pants and a half-open dark shirt, hair still wet from a bath. His eyes were clearer than before—sharper, curious, almost hungry, shimmering in that unnatural shade of silver.
"Leave," he ordered.
The slaves vanished without a word. Selene tried to cover herself with her arms but gave up quickly. Showing weakness would only make it worse.
The Alpha stared at her for a long time.
"You’re beautiful," he said as he approached. "Even wounded. Maybe even more so."
She didn’t answer. Just glared at him like she wanted to rip his throat out. And she did. She just didn’t have the strength.
Anton touched his chin, studying her body.
"It’s a shame you’re so... defiant. But I’ll fix that with time."
He reached out to touch her, uninvited. Selene growled, eyes flashing brighter, and slapped his hand away, backing up a few steps.
"Touch me and I’ll tear your throat out."
Anton only smiled, as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear.
"What a delicious challenge."
With a quick motion, he slammed her against the wall. Selene felt the air leave her lungs, but she didn’t cry out. She kept her gaze locked on his. His face was too close, his silver eyes fixed on hers.
Then he felt it.
The scent.
The invisible pull, like a thin, unbreakable thread binding them.
The bond.
For a second, it was as if the whole castle stopped moving. His eyes widened. His jaw clenched. That scent... wild, rare, unique.
His soul reacted. His wolf roared inside him. His fangs extended on their own. His skin burned. His heart thundered, wild and out of control.
"No..." he growled. "No, not this."
Anton pressed his nose to her neck.
The bond pulsed.
Alive.
Real.
For nearly three hundred years he had rejected the Moon Goddess, destroyed everything, built his empire on blood and his own rules. And now, here he was, tethered by a bond that was supposed to be a gift from the very goddess he despised.
"f*****g goddess," he muttered, stunned. "It can’t be."
Selene felt it too. Her soul stirred. Her body trembled without reason. His scent hit her like a blow to the senses, making everything else vanish.
She had dreamed of this moment all her life.
And now, looking at the man who was her fated mate, all she felt was disgust. Pure disgust.
"This is a curse," she said, her voice hoarse. "I’ve been cursed by the goddess..."
He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time, and for a brief moment, the mask of cruelty slipped. His expression softened. Almost tender.
"You’re my fated mate... After all this time, I..."
But Selene growled again, and when Anton leaned in to touch his lips to hers, she spat in his face.
"Go f**k yourself. This isn’t right. It’s a mistake. I’d rather die than accept this."
Anton closed his eyes for a second. It was strange—being rejected. For the first time since becoming who he was, he was being rejected. By a slave.
And yet, even though he was bigger, stronger, more powerful, the rejection struck him like a blade. It hurt.
He took a deep breath. Her scent was stuck to him, driving him mad.
The Supreme Alpha gripped her neck with one hand, squeezing lightly.
"You’re a slave now," he said coldly. "And slaves don’t get to choose."
She struggled to breathe, but it wasn’t his hand choking her. It was his presence. That cursed bond. That cruel fate.
Anton pressed his body to hers. His wolf howled inside, begging to mark his mate. To crown his Luna.
His breath was hot against her skin.
"The goddess gave me a slave as my mate?" he growled, his voice full of hunger and fury. "So be it. I’ll f**k you until you accept me, my sweet..."
"You can r**e me. Torture me. Lock me in here forever... But I will never accept you. I will never love you. I will never be yours."
- Writer
