Enslaved to the King of all Lycans

~Claire~ No matter how many times I smacked my bare feet against the stones, I didn't stop. Each time my feet hit the ground is a pump to run further. I dare not look behind me, nor did the night sky help. Soon, I lose focus in the woods. My eyes are strained as I try to utilise my wolf's senses, but being a non-shifter makes it harder, plus she's the reason we aren't exhausted from lack of oxygen. "Find her! Her scent is still fresh. She couldn't have gone far." I recognise the slave master's voice, and wild adrenaline pumps into my skin, making it hard to breathe or think. I can hear the guard's thundering paw, and my hopes of survival start to crumple. Frantic, I run again but lose my grip, rolling down a sloppy ground that leads into the downhill. When I finally stop, I whine from the branch that digs into my delicate milky skin. Ignoring the sharp pain, I stand up with my mud-covered messy hair sprawling over my face. My dress is torn, itching because of the dirt in it as I attempt to access the woods again. "There she is! I found her!" One of the guards reveal, and my heart leaps. No, no, no! Chills run down my spine as I start running again, praying to the moon goddess that I'm able to escape them, but someone suddenly pulls me back and grabs me by the neck, depriving me of air. He releases me a few seconds later, and I fall to the ground to catch my breath. Raising my gaze, I see the slave master in front of me. "You, b***h!" He growls and smacks me on the cheeks, drawing blood from my lips. "Of all days you could try to escape, you chose today that the Lycan king is coming to evaluate all of you. Take her back to the quarters." His eyes are glowing dangerously, suggesting that his wolf is on the surface. Quickly, I ramble to his feet. "Master, please. Please don't take me back. I'll do anything." I've heard many stories of the king of all Lycans. Facing death is a better wish than to see that barbarian. "Get this slave away from me." He spits. Two bulky men pick me up, starting to drag me away when he adds. "In fact, let her be the first to be auditioned by the King, understood?" The two men grunt in affirmation while my entire body freezes for a moment. Minutes later, I'm dragged into a new room. The red lights only worsen my situation. My system is in haywire. I can't be the first to face the monster who subjugated my race. He's the reason why werewolves don't have a voice. I still remember the great war. He was so powerful that none of our leaders could stop him or his armies. The Lycan king and his five Alphas. They knocked us off our high horses within days, but it didn't stop there. Every year, all over the world, and in each pack, a wolf who cannot shift is submitted to a slave quarters just like this one. A woman dressed in leathers approaches me, throwing two pieces of clothes my way. "Get dressed," is all she utters. These are underwear. Am I to be naked in front of the Lycan King? Something about the woman makes me frown, and then it ticks. She's a She-wolf. A relief washes over me as I close the space between us, tears brimming my eyes. "Please, help me. You're a wolf like me. You understand my situation." I beg, but the woman doesn't react. I pull at her clothes, begging her more, and then she kicks me in the stomach, hurling me away from her. "I'm nothing like you. If anything, your type is the reason why we are in this mess. Weak wolves like yourself made us lose the war. Now, get the f**k up to meet your fate." This is the eventuality of my life. There's no escape from this fate. I'm doomed just as I was four years ago when I was brought here by my own pack. At first, you would think they have no choice, but that's not the case. Other werewolves blame us for the fate unleashed upon the entire race because we are weak. When I was a pup, my parents were the best, but the moment I turned eighteen and couldn't shift, the adorable world I knew before vanished, and now, I'm about to meet my end. I change into a bra and pant, using my hands to cover the rest of my body as the curtains reveal a stage. Those bulky men push me forward. On the stage, a spotlight follows me till I'm in the middle. Like the prey that I am, I turn around to any sound my ears pick up, shuddering. Beads of sweat form on my forehead as my eyes attempt to scan the room. "Claire Frostpaw. 22-year-old non-shifter wolf from the SilverNight pack. Green eyes as clear as the forest. Light blonde hair. Warm ivory skin. 5 feet 6 inches." A masculine voice with a strong antique accent calls out my profile. "Resilient and imprudent. Poor musical talent. Poor linguistic skills. Poor cooking skills." The voice stops, but not without me hearing the tightness in his tone. "What the f**k, brother? How is this slave still alive and not killed yet?" Says the voice again, filling every void of silence in the space. I gasp at his words, and the fact that I don't know exactly where he is because of the spotlight scares me more. Silence fills in again, followed by my ragged breathing, and then another manly voice picks at me from behind my ears, causing me to fall on my butt. "Quite fascinating, don't you think?" My eyes pop out at the man in front of me. He's the Lycan King's brother. Not only that, he's one of his Alphas who aided him in conquering my race into slavery. He squints his eyes at me as he bends, letting his silver ash hair fall down his forehead. "She doesn't look very resilient now, does she?" He looks at me like I'm some food he's about to devour. I crawl backwards, away from him, as far as I can. Earning a chuckle from him, my back hit a frame. I stop to turn around, and blinking up, the aura that comes from the man I just turned to face leaves my stomach twisting. It's him, Salvatore, the king of all Lycans. I've never seen him before; the stories they say of him are enough to crawl at my skin. He's less than thirty years old, yet he's claimed many lands over the globe, earning him his title. He's the most barbaric and cold-hearted of them all. They say he has scars all over his face, each of them revealing all the battles he's fought and won, and they say just a look into his eyes will leave you haunted forever. I snap my eyes shut and quickly bow. "Please, don't take me." In fact, I would rather he kill me here than turn me into his slave. "Kill me here. I'm useless. I'm not the perfect slave you're looking for." "And how do you know what I'm looking for?" He asked, his voice cold enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "Perhaps the slave is right, Orion." "Perhaps." His brother replies. Oddly, a sense of relief washes over me. He's really going to kill me. For someone like me, it's the best fate to be bestowed upon by King Salvatore. "Stand up, slave." He says, and without my consent, I rise up, heeding his command. From the shadows, he finally reveals himself, grabbing my face to look into my eyes. All of a sudden, a sensation strikes inside me. My churning intestines calm as well as my breathing. Everything inside me reaches a balance as I lose track of my surroundings. I find myself sinking inside his grey eyes, past his flawless face. They are so bright and reflective, you'd think they are mirrors. Hypnotised, I remain locked within his eyes. Behind them, I sense his strong wolf as a soft red glow appears in his lens. Following is the sound of my heartbeat. They beat drastically, not out of fear but of a new revelation—one my wolf has never felt before—and then, for the first time tonight, her voice invades my mind, an intriguing mixture of excitement. "Our mate." She declares. As King Salvatore releases his fingers, I suddenly feel cold, followed by a rage in his voice, one directed at me. "What was that?" He growls, his canines turning into fangs. "What the f**k was that?" "I—I." I swallow a loud lump. He looks like he could s***h my throat at any moment, and suddenly the thought of dying, especially by him, doesn't sound graceful anymore. "I don't know." He takes a step backwards, looking from his fingers to my face. He wears a disgusted expression. "All my life, I've waited to find my mate, and it turned out to be you, a common slave!" King Salvatore declares curtly. "I, the King of all Lycans, reject you, Claire, as my mate." When I didn't say anything, he yelled at me. "Accept it!" I jump. "Yes, sire," like my heart, my voice breaks. Tears brim my eyes. He didn't take another glance at me before he stormed out of the room. I can still smell his cologne, which now chokes me rather than the rejuvenation it once provided. The slave master rushes into the room, out of the blue, and just when I expected him to whip me for ruining his sales, Alpha Orion orders him to my surprise. "Get the slave dressed up." I raise a quizzical stare at Alpha Orion, who stares back at me, rather returning a knowing look. "Bring her to the jeep. King Salvatore will be buying her."