The Feral King’s Forbidden Mate

The contrast

Lin’s POV

Moses didn’t try to have his way with me, instead, he kicked open a pair of massive double doors at the very end of the east wing with a resounding thud.

He carried me past a sweeping, marble-floored foyer and into a grand, sun-drenched suite filled with rich crimson tapestries, heavy dark mahogany furniture, and floor-to-ceiling glass doors opening onto a private balcony that overlooked the rough, snow-capped mountain peaks.

I had spent one hundred days trapped in the dark, underground west wing of Ricardo’s estate—a place that smelled of damp stone, old sweat, and stale wine. I had never even been allowed to step foot into the east wing.

Ricardo used to sneer that a wolfless servant didn't deserve to breathe the clean air up here, threatening to break my ankles if he ever caught me wandering near the high towers.

Moses casually strode over to a massive, plush bed draped in dark silk and set me down onto the edge of the mattress.

The second my feet touched the wooden frame, panic surged through my veins like ice water. I scrambled backward toward the headboard like a cornered animal, clutching the bunched duvet against my collarbones, pulling my knees tight to my chest, and raising a trembling arm in a defensive guard.

"Don't touch me! Don't you dare lay a hand on me!"

Moses didn't try to grab me. He didn't even lean down to cut off my escape.

He stood towering over the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders blocking out the streaming setting sun, his hands resting casually on his heavy leather weapon belt. His golden, predatory eyes swept down over my huddled form with a cold, assessing stare that felt so searing hot against my bare skin it almost burned.

"You smell like his house," Moses said bluntly. His deep voice dripped with an intense, gut-churning disgust that made the shadows in the room seem to twitch. "You smell like his silver chains, his damp dungeons, and his cheap, sickening perfume. I will not have my mate sitting in my palace looking and smelling like a starved prisoner."

I blinked, my breath catching square in my throat as my exhausted brain struggled to process the sheer absurdity of his words. "What?"

Moses turned his sharp head toward the open doorway, his jaw clenching tight, his posture radiating an absolute, suffocating authority that filled every corner of the vast room. "Maids! In here. Now!"

Within three seconds, the sound of frantic, hurried footsteps echoed down the stone corridor. Two head servants clad in formal navy palace dresses rushed through the doorway. The moment their eyes landed on Moses, they dropped to their knees so fast their foreheads scraped against the polished marble floor.

"Alpha king! We are here!" the older maid squeaked out, her voice quivering violently under the crushing weight of his Alpha aura.

"Prepare the deep stone bath in the adjoining room immediately," Moses commanded, his voice echoing off the high-arched ceiling like a military decree. "Hot water. Lavender and rose oils. Cleanse every single inch of her skin until there is not a trace of Ricardo's house left on her. Scrub his scent off her completely. Then bring the clothes I selected."

My chest seized at his words. New clothes? Selected for me? In twenty years living under my father’s roof, Colin had never bought me a single piece of clothing; I wore rags hand-me-downed or discarded.

And in one hundred days with Ricardo, no one had ever brought me clean clothes—Ricardo preferred me in threadbare rags or nothing at all, making sure I always felt stripped of my dignity. Now, his father was ordering palace maids to dress me like royalty.

"R-Right away, Alpha king! Immediately!" The maids scrambled back to their feet, bowing repeatedly as they practically sprinted into the adjoining washroom. Within moments, the loud, roaring sound of steaming water filling a massive stone basin echoed through the suite, sending sweet-smelling steam drifting into the bedroom.

I sat frozen on the silk bedsheets, my chest heaving up and down as the sheer, paralyzing terror began to bleed out of me, replaced by a dizzying, head-spinning confusion.

"A... a bath?" I managed to whisper, my voice raspy and hoarse from disuse.

Moses took a single, heavy step forward. His massive, imposing frame shadowed me completely, shutting out the light from the windows. He bent down slowly—just enough so his harsh, beautiful face was inches from mine.

His dark, hypnotic scent of crushed pine, mountain rain, and dangerous, ancient magic overwhelmed my senses until my head throbbed with a strange, intoxicating pressure.

"Did you think I brought you here to break you, Lin?" he asked softly. But there was nothing soft about the dangerous, predatory gleam in his eyes. "I am the Alpha King. I take what is mine on the battlefield, not in the dark while a female trembles in fear."

He straightened back up to his full, towering height, looking down his sharp nose at me with an expression that was completely unreadable, carved of granite.

"Wash yourself," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument or debate. "The dress is waiting for you. When you come out, we talk. And this time, you will listen."

Without waiting for me to say another word, Moses turned his broad back on me and strode out of the suite. The heavy oak doors swung shut behind him, closing with a firm, resounding click that echoed off the stone walls like a final seal.

A heavy silence descended on the room, broken only by the rhythmic splash of water and rising steam from the adjacent bathhouse.

I sat completely alone on the massive bed, my pulse hammering wildly against the base of my neck. I looked toward the steamy doorway where the two maids were hurriedly pouring scented oils into the water, and then down at my own dirty, trembling hands.

For one hundred long, brutal days, I had been treated like a piece of meat—a voiceless object passed around to settle gambling debts and feed a cruel heir's sadistic pride. I had spent every second of those hundred days believing that my life was over, that a wolfless girl had no rights, no strength, and no future. When the doors had opened today, I had expected another monster. I had expected another cage.

I unwrapped the heavy duvet from my shoulders and set it aside, letting the cool room air hit my skin before I stood up slowly on shaky, uncertain legs.

Walking into the adjoining washroom, the thick steam enveloped me like a warm blanket. The two maids bowed their heads respectfully, refusing to look directly at my bare body, though I could see the shock in their eyes as they took in the faint red marks on my wrists where silver chains had bound me for weeks.

"Allow us, My Lady," the older maid murmured softly, holding out a soft linen wrap.

I didn't answer, but I allowed them to guide me toward the sunken stone bath. As my bruised, exhausted body sank down into the deep, hot water, the heat seeped straight into my aching bones, washing away the dirt, the cold, and the lingering memories of Ricardo's suffocating house.

The maid gently poured sweet-smelling rose oils over my hair, working her fingers through the knots, while the other used a soft cloth to cleanse the grime from my skin. With every layer of dirt that washed away into the water, it felt as though a piece of the helpless slave I had been for the last three months was dissolving along with it.

And then, deep within me, something stirred.

As the warm water soaked into my skin, a strange, deep spark ignited at the very base of my chest—a faint, ancient warmth that had been stone-cold and dormant for twenty long years. It wasn't panic, and it wasn't fear. It was a low, slow hum, vibrating right beneath my ribs, answering the lingering scent of pine and rain that Moses had left behind in the air.

My wolf.

The warm, scented water enveloped my skin, and tears immediately stung the backs of my eyes. An involuntary shudder wracked my spine as a memory flashed unbidden—Ricardo throwing buckets of freezing well-water over me in the middle of the night just to hear me scream, laughing with his girls while I shivered on the dungeon floor.

The contrast was sickening. The man who claimed to want me had humiliated me, while the terrifying beast everyone feared was washing his filth off my skin.

My family had spent my entire life scorning me, calling me broken, calling me a wolfless disgrace who brought shame to our bloodline. But sitting in this water, feeling that sudden, fierce ember pulsing in my chest, a thrilling, terrifying truth settled over my mind.

I was never wolfless. She had just been waiting.

Moses Osborn wasn't a gentle man. He was brutal, arrogant, and commanded the world around him with dark, uncompromising authority. He hadn't asked for my permission when he carried me here, but he hadn't taken my freedom, either. He had given me a hot bath, a warm room, and a choice to stand on my own two feet.

As I closed my eyes and let the steaming water submerge me up to my shoulders, one thought burned hotter than any fear I had ever known:

The nightmare I had lived through was over. And whoever the Feral King thought he was dealing with, he was about to find out that the girl he claimed was far from broken.