STOLEN BY THE HEARTLESS LYCAN

Cora’s pov The sound of banging noises startled me awake and I jerked up too fast, the action making my head spin for a good ten seconds. Mika, my jailer was banging a wrench repeatedly on the steel cage that seperated me from freedom. I roused up, pushing my hand flat on the steel floor to keep myself upright as I squinted up at him. The sedatives I had been injected with was working overtime, pulling me back under into the numbing lull of unconsciousness.. I knew better than to try to stand on my feet again. My limbs were useless to me. “Gotta clip those wings,” papà had said before he aimed a sledgehammer at my knees, “Don’t want you running away from me like your mother tried to do before you.” “Got something for me, Mika?” I drawled softly, my fingers grazing the cold bars as I hung on to it and peered up at him. He looked like he wanted to shoot me between the eyes for my poor attempt at seduction. I shrugged. I didn't have the strength to put my all into it today. “Your papà requests for you.” he said as four of my papà’s men took a corner of the cage. “You’ll be servicing Creed. Creed Talaverra.” My breath caught in my throat and I dropped the act immediately as static electricty zapped through my entire body. My heart stilled because I believed that if it beats right now, it would beat right out of my chest. Creed. The rampant outcast prince of Shadow Cove. I wasn’t the only one that drew in a terrified breath. “Damn, I don’t wish to be you, sweetheart.” The phantom beside me, whistled, boredly picking at her nails even though she was in a cell just like mine, except hers had been fortified with an electric field that would zap her half to death if she tries to to escape. I’ve heard stories about Creed, born of the only known vampire-werewolf hybrid in existence to a family that was as powerful as it was terrifying… At twenty five, he had taken over from his papà as one of the youngest kings in the city’s underworld and he ran the streets with a cruel fist. Following his father’s footsteps, he was a ruthless, unforgiving tyrant, rumoured to not have a beating heart. He had more blood on his hand than all of the city’s scorned criminals and he was allegedly proud of it. Tales of the heartless prince followed him like a billowing cloak. I wouldn’t have believed rumours about him if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. How easy it was to get on the prince’s bad side. How unbelievably effortlessly he could rid you of your existence. It was only a few months ago when I saw him for the first time. It had been after my performance, some of the men had been congratulating me for a good performance as usual when suddenly, a man to my left bursted into black flames. All eyes turned to him, where he had been standing in the shadows, and with just a look of his eyes, I had seen him set his victim on fire; liquid fire that didn’t stop burning until there was nothing left of him, while Creed stared on soullessly, almost boredly. That could have been me. I just had to say the wrong word. Do the wrong thing. Look at him the wrong way… My throat tightened. It felt like I was trying to inhale through a needle. My hands were trembling as the men picked up my cage and placed the ends on their shoulders, and every step out of the holding cell and into the direction of my father’s private lounge made my teeth chatter with trepidation. Papà’s lounge was a lot brighter than the hallways and the holding cell and I squinted a bit as the men walked in, averting my eyes from the bright light and trying to make out my surroundings. It had been a while since I had been let out. Tonight, his lounge was devoid of the nymphs that usually danced for him and entertained his guests. papà liked them because of their natural compunction to please and be pleased. But with their one track mind and low attention span, they weren’t good enough to spend the night or have an intellectual conversation with. Somehow, I believed Creed wouldn’t appreciate their company. Any company. Meaning, I was as good as dead. I held on to the bars for dear life and held back a grunt as I was dumped unceremoniously on the ground. He was sitting across from papà, nursing a glass of cognac, a glock on the table before him and I immediately looked to the ground. “Is she the one?” His voice was like warm whiskey on ice, a low, dark timbre that shook my bones but I didn’t dare look up at him, keeping my head bowed. “Yes!” Papà simpered. “She doesn’t look it, but she’s special, this one. Quite the temptress. Adept in every skill known to seducing a man in and out of the bedroom.” Trust father to hype me up when a drug lord nearly blew my brains out for my lousy first b*****b few nights ago… Hence the metal cage, beaten body, broken legs and a crash course in sucking d!ck correctly. I could do fine as long as things didn't escalate to third base. I was as hopeless as a virgin on matters to please a man in bed. Creed's silence was like the scream of a thousand banshees. I could already tell he wasn't impressed and that I was going to die tonight. I wondered how I look. Temporarily crippled and dirty, lilac blue hair matting to my head, my clothes were practically rags that have seen better days. I cleaned up real nice, but tonight, I looked like something Creed Talaverra would kick out of his way if it ever stumbled in his part. Like a dirty bird with broken wings in a gilded cage. “I just have to clean her up a bit and-” “Wait just a minute, Orlando,” Creed silenced my papà. A few seconds passed, I’m guessing for dramatic effect. I could feel his eyes piercing into the corner of my head. “Quite the temptress, huh?” he mused. To me, he commanded,”Lift your eyes up to me.” My head snapped up in the direction of the voice, helpless against his command, like a mannequin tugged on by its strings. I wasn’t quite prepared for the full force of his gaze. Thick black hair. Face like an avenging archangel. Broad shoulders stretching out his suit jacket. Bottomless black eyes like a yawning abyss… And I was fallin- He ripped his eyes away from me, a pissed off growl reverberating through the entire room, reminding me of the beast that he was and I dropped my chin again. “You think you can clean up the mess you started by offering me this… thing?” He growled, obviously offended. And I knew I was f u c k ed. We were all f.ucked. Papà was known for making deals with the wrong men and stepping on the wrong toes, and he would trade us; his daughters, to clean up his messes. Creed was the wrongest man alive he could have picked to mess with and somehow, I knew that today, it would cost him his life. There was the sound of rustling fabric, heavy footsteps making their way to me. He crouched down in front of me and his scent of something woody and fruity enveloped me, making me want to drag in a lungful. His eyes were even darker and overwhelming up close. I started to drop my chin but his hand snapped to my chin, holding me in place. Something like amusement flickered in those charcoal black orbs as he inclined his head to the side. His thick black hair fell against his face and obstructed his eyes. Dark, dark eyes boring into mine, cutting right through my sedated haze. “Hello temptress.”