Alpha’s backup Mate

Chapter 3

According to Diva the guard was really out of his element. Anger bubbled in her chest and she said, "Please go and charm another girl." She pushed him again, but her efforts were in vain, mostly because he was too strong and less because she was drugged. He didn't budge an inch.

"I don't need to charm anyone," which was the truth. "But are you charmed by me?" His voice was tipsy.

She let out a sigh as her limbs became listless. The drug was spreading through her blood rapidly. She closed her eyes. "No, and leave me…" she said in a last ditch effort.

He chuckled deeply. "No, I won't," he whispered as he leaned over her ear and coiled his arms tightly around her waist. "Do you "

Diva couldn't struggle against the pill that she had swallowed and the rest of the words that he spoke, sounded incoherent. Darkness took over her, and soon she slumbered off.

Now that she was in his grasp, feeling calm, Klaus buried his face in her hair and mumbled something. He didn't know when sleep overtook him.

It was still dark when Diva woke up, her head throbbing as though someone had taken a hammer to it. Her throat was still dry because when she moaned, it hurt.

When she tried to move, she couldn't. It was as if she was wrapped in thick blankets. It was so hot in here; her body was covered with sweat. She groaned again as she tried to pull away, but it was impossible.

It took a gargantuan effort for her to open her eyes, and when she did, her gaze went to the fireplace where embers glowed a scorching red, imparting a dim light to the rest of the room. She exhaled roughly and tried to recall what had happened. She remembered swallowing the pill, because someone had found her spying.

"No!" she rasped. If she was caught, she would only end up executed. How she had managed to sleep like a log… she cursed herself.

There was someone behind her. A man. And his arms were wrapped tightly around her. His leg on hers.

Diva's gaze traveled down to her waist, where his thick, muscular arm rested. The way his arms coiled around her it was like he was holding his cherished treasure. It felt protective…

Strangely, it felt nice with his scent of brine and mist washing over her. The strong body behind her edged evenly in his slumber. His heartbeat was like a soft lullaby, and she resisted the urge to sleep again. She found it odd that her soul stirred with a foreign sensation which she had never felt in all her seventeen summers.

That sensation, however, ebbed when comprehension struck her. She needed to get out of here as soon as possible, without disturbing the strongest man she had encountered in her life. She was unaccustomed to this touch, having lived the life of a slave. When a man touched her before, it was with a whip or a cane to punish her. When a man touched her before, it was to take a part of her soul after casting dark spells on her. When a man touched her before, only blood came out of her nostrils or ears or mouth or skin. A shudder trickled down her body. She tried not to think and compare. Not all men were alike and not all men were different.

Her eyes went back to the arm that was coiled tightly around her. She picked up the heavy arm but realized that her dress was beneath the weight of his body. She turned to pull it out. In order to free herself, Diva had to come face to face with him.

Even in her wildest dreams, she could not have imagined a man as magnificent as him. He was a facsimile of a Greek god. How could he achieve such a level of perfection? Breathtakingly handsome, broad-shouldered with a bronze skin like velvet. Sleeping soundly behind her, he had a strong and regal aura about him. In his sleep, he still commanded respect and authority. His midnight-blue hair fell down his forehead, kissing the skin of his pillar-like neck. Her gaze went to his parted lips, and she realized then that she was holding her breath. His lips were perfectly bow-shaped. She was so enthralled, a ragged breath escaped her mouth and her heart raced so fast, she feared those in the next room would hear it. And he was coiled all around her.

She didn't remember much as to how she was entangled in this position, but through her hazy memories, she recalled being grasped in the darkness by a guard. She pursed her lips.

"Calman's horns!" she breathed. Diva shook her head to get out of her stupor. She had to unravel herself as soon as possible, without inviting too much unnecessary attention. With every kernel of energy within her, she lifted his arm. Pinned beneath such a heavy man, she wriggled as much as she could, but wriggling out seemed like a massive effort. A caged little bird underneath a big bad wolf.

After a few attempts, she prized herself free, letting his body fall to the bedsheets. The man groaned as he stirred; Diva froze as fear ensnared her. If he woke up now, he would hand her to the King and she would end up dead. So much for the freedom she had sought.

She watched him intently, watching him fall deeper into his sleep while she remained rooted to her place.

At the edge of the bed, she felt a tug the hem of her gown was bunched up underneath him. Calman's horns! Gently, she collected her skirt, stopping at every groan that escaped his lips, and when she was done, she swept her feet off the bed and stood up.

As nervous as a hare, she looked outside. The window panels were open, and a gentle sea breeze fluttered the gauzy curtains. She walked to the window. It was pretty dark on the outside. Fading sconces burning somewhere down lent a faint glow to the night.

She studied the exterior, assessing just where she was. Her new friend had said that there would be an exit at the far end of the corridor. With that knowledge as she peered out of the window, she worked out that she was at least three floors up. Every breath from her body leaked out. The moon, a waning crescent, was about to descend. She had hardly any time left to complete her mission.

Now, all she could do was flee. Because if she didn't run now, she would never ever leave this place.

Diva picked up her sandals and tiptoed to the door. She turned the handle down and opened it. As she walked out, she considered that the man slumped on the bed was Prince Nick. Rather than leave, she dared to peek at his face, to find any telltale signs that he might be the avatar of God. She studied him well. Nothing revealed his identity. There was no glow around him, neither was there a strange light emitting from his forehead, which Heinz had always said would be there.

He looked… normal. That couldn't be him. If he were an avatar of God, there had to be something that was different to him, something divine. Right? Little did she show that the man was a certified debauch.

Diva clenched her teeth and then hurriedly snuck out of the room. To her relief, the man, whoever he was, hadn't woken up; to her chagrin, however, she would face the punishment of Heinz. Her body trembled. Heinz had a vicious way of correcting her.

A sense of rising dread crawled up her back. At one point of time, she contemplated what would be better staying at the palace in the Draka Kingdom or going back to Cetus Monastery. She chuckled. Did she even have a choice? Heinz had something of hers that she could never part with. She exhaled roughly and focused at the task ahead, which was to get the hell out of here. She opened her senses to check out the dangers ahead.

Diva cracked the door ajar and peeked out. She took a last look at the man and chuckled when she saw how his mask was wrapped around his neck loosely. She closed the door behind her and stepped out.

The few sconces that lit the corridor had dimmed, producing only a dull light that lined the hall. She waited for a sound, anything, to caution her, but heard nothing only the rhythmic drumbeat of her panicked breath. She glanced left and right, and when she saw that was alone, she scurried down the walkway. At its end, she found a deep stairwell leading down. A sense of foreboding hit her, and goosebumps rippled across her flesh. She felt like returning to the bedroom but didn't. How could she take such a chance with someone she did not know? What if the guards caught her? What if the King caught her? She was a spy, after all, from the monastery a place that was considered sacred amongst all the kingdoms. The place where the werewolf kings came to offer their prayers and sacrifices. If the King came to know that Heinz had sent her, the monastery's name would be in shambles. However, a thought rattled her. What if Heinz denied who she was?

She exhaled sharply and then fled down the stairs. They took her to a landing in front of a thick wooden door with ornate carvings across it. It was ajar, and she could feel the rush of a warm breeze on her body. True to what Susan had said, when she opened the door, she found a garden surrounded by tall oaks and poplars. She scanned the garden for an exit a gate, perhaps, or even a gap in the hedges that lined the garden's walls but other than the dense trees, she could see nothing else. Her only way out was through the dense forest that lay ahead.

Diva darted across the garden toward the thicket, her feet falling on soft-cushioned grass. She had to find her handler. If she didn't, she would never be able to reach Cetus. She didn't know the way. This was the first time she had been let out of the monastery in almost a decade.

Her breath cut like a knife as she raced through the copse of trees, entering the stark forest as fast as her bare feet could take her. Twigs snapped beneath her and she jumped at the sound. Afraid that the bloodhounds would be after her, or, worse, the palace guards, she hated now, more than ever, that she could not shift into her wolf form.

Most of her kind shifted for the first time when they turned eighteen, but some had shifted earlier, too. In the monastery, the priests could figure out who would shift early and who would not. They assigned the jobs to the people accordingly. Those who never shifted, or who had lost their wolves, were enslaved. They worked in the kitchens, did the laundry, cleaned the latrines, and scrubbed the floors.

Those who could shift, on the other hand, became warriors and scribes and held far better positions, far better privileges. They were served… royally… and they had the authority to belittle and beat the non-shifters.

The priest she served, Heinz, was the High Priest, the most powerful priest of Cetus Monastery. He insisted that she would never shift into her wolf, and so she was made a slave. He had brought her to the monastery for a handful of coins from her grandmother.

She ran as fast as she could, diving deep into the forest. She turned right, hoping to find an exit, but all she saw were trees that grew ever more thick. Low hanging branches snagged her dress like desperate hands, but she couldn't slow down. She dared not to slow down. Not if she had to escape the palace grounds before the coming dawn.

She trekked between thick and slender trunks, her feet bruised by the crunch of the twigs. Her white gown pulled each time it was snatched by a thorny bough. She pulled at it hurriedly, ripping it apart. It didn't matter. She would not let that stop her.

All her life, she wanted only one thing: Her freedom from Heinz. She failed.

Memories assailed her. She was five years old when her parents died, and a mystery still shrouded their tragic demise. The villagers had handed her over to her grandmother, who would spend her evenings in the alehouse, begging for liquor. Her grandmother had hated Diva, scolding her or beating her every day. Just because she couldn't take care of another stomach, not when she could barely feed herself. And not only that, her grandmother loathed her because, according to her at least, she wasn't even her grandmother.

Little Diva never understood the complications of life, but she had been terrified of the serious priest with an aquiline nose who had assessed her from top to bottom and traded her from her drunk grandmother for only a handful of coins which must have lasted no more than three days of drinking for her grandmother.

Then, Diva was seven. She was bunched up into the back of a carriage by a hunchback and brought to the monastery gates. Heinz enslaved her with his magic, the little girl screaming as he performed the ritual. He had taken a part of her soul, collecting it in the tangerine soul stone that he wore around his neck. That ensured that she would serve the Cetus Monastery until Heinz released her to someone else. But he would not. He coveted her as his own personal servant and he was ferociously possessive about her.