Chapter 5
1298 Words
Scarlett
The floor is cold stone under my bare feet. The scent of bleach burns my nose. This is a place meant to scrub people clean of pride.
The staff quarters aren’t even part of the mansion. They are in a separate house. Tucked behind a row of hedges like an afterthought. The building is squat and plain, with narrow windows and an iron door.
It reminds me of the pack house back in the River Pack. Only this one feels colder. More judgmental. There’s no warmth in the air, no familiarity in the way the walls close in. Just tension.
Everyone inside stops what they are doing when they see me. Conversations die. People turn to stare.
How lovely...
The pack warriors are half-naked and only wearing sweatpants. I assume the younger ones are new recruits. Then there is the staff who are all dressed in black and gray uniforms.
A shiver races down my spine when I realize even the youngest teenagers are much taller than I am. But in reality, I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s to be expected since they are all lycans.
Broader than werewolves. Built like they were carved from stone and trained to break people like me in half. They don’t need large packs. Werewolves are strong in numbers. Lycans? They are strong on their own. That’s what makes them different from us werewolves.
And these lycans?
I can tell that I’m going to have to earn their respect. I’m lean and wiry. Not a giant like them. Just 5’3” of defiance wrapped in skin that smells like wolf. And they hate that.
Someone sneers. “Is that the mutt?”
Another voice, a woman’s, says, “I thought wolves weren’t allowed here.”
“She’s the one Rhodes brought in. With the sick girl. Heard she signed a blood contract.”
The last voice is full of revulsion. “Desperate little stray.”
There are chuckles, but I tell myself not to show fear.
They would eat me up if I did.
I keep my shoulders straight. Eyes forward.
“Don’t expect her to last,” someone mutters.
“She won’t. The King burns through toys like kindling.”
They don’t say it loudly. But loud enough that I hear. Loud enough to cut.
If Rhodes won’t break me, his pack members might.
At least they will try.
I find my room at the end of the hall. It’s barely more than a box. A cot. A dresser. No mirror. No window. Just four walls and silence.
My uniform is folded on the bed. Stark white blouse. Black slacks. A thin apron. No shoes.
No freedom either.
I sit on the edge of the cot and exhale slowly, willing myself not to break.
I left my home. I signed the contract. And I came here.
All for Violet.
I won’t let this place devour me.
The next morning, I wake to a knock on my door. Disoriented, I stumble to open it and find a tray waiting for me. Silverware. A teapot. Steam curls from the spout. Beside it, a note written in tight, elegant handwriting.
“Eat. You’ll need the strength. —R.”
For a second, I’m tempted.
But then I remember how he silenced me. How he gripped my chin and called me his slave.
I shove the tray off the dresser. It crashes to the ground, tea spilling everywhere. The porcelain plate cracks in half.
I don’t need his kindness. Not if it comes laced with chains.
Minutes later, someone bangs on the door.
A tall woman with blunt-cut hair and arms like battering rams looks down her nose at me. “New mutts don’t get to lounge. Laundry. Basement. Now.”
I nod without replying, grabbing the scratchy uniform and tugging it on.
She leads me down two flights of narrow stone stairs to a damp, windowless space that smells like old soap and mold.
“Linens. Boil them. Scrub them. Dry them. Then do it again.”
There are baskets stacked taller than I am. Buckets of water. A tub with rusted edges and steam curling from it.
I roll up my sleeves.
The other staff don’t speak to me. They just walk past, shoulders brushing mine too hard to be an accident. One bumps me into the wall. I don’t flinch.
I won’t give them the pleasure.
Another ‘accidentally’ spills a full bucket of water in my path. I nearly slip, but catch myself. The staff laugh under their breath.
A sneering girl throws a mop down in front of me. “Oops. Hope you don’t mind cleaning that, mutt.”
“You know wolves are supposed to stay in the kennel,” another snickers. “Looks like the King’s got a soft spot for trash.”
One girl, tall and smug, walks past and hisses, “Don’t get too comfortable. You won’t last a week.”
Then she shoves me hard enough that I crash into the stone wall. My elbow scrapes. I feel the sting. Then a trickle of blood, but I don’t cry out.
I won’t give them that.
But even if I don’t react, something inside of me stirs.
My wolf.
Still asleep. Still buried deep inside since she can’t be awakened with Violet still being alive. But even in her sleep, she is aware.
It reminds me that I’m not as powerless as they think.
I dip my hands into the hot water and get to work. My fingers sting. My palms blister. But I keep going.
Somewhere above, I hear chatter from the kitchen corridor. A few of the maids are whispering, giggling.
“Did you see him this morning?”
“Oh gods, yes. He walked past the east fountain after his morning hunt.”
“That man’s backside is the moon goddess’s gift to all women. I’d kneel for him any day. Suck that cock.”
I scoff under my breath.
Rhodes? Sexy? The man is a tyrant.
I roll my eyes and scrub harder...until I glance up and catch a flash of movement through the small, grimy window over the stairs. A tall, bronze-skinned figure is walking in the courtyard. Wet hair. Naked.
Toned back. Tight, tanned glutes that flex with every step.
My eyes widen.
Is that…?
Oh no.
It is.
Rhodes.
He walks under the morning light. At this moment, he doesn’t look like a man. He looks like temptation itself. Broad shoulders. Tapered waist. Lethal muscles and a posture that signals elegance.
I keep staring, watching his backside with widening eyes.
And oh my god.
His ass alone could bring a girl to ruin—smooth, golden, infuriatingly biteable.
Not that I’m thinking about biting it.
Gods help me.
Even the devil shouldn’t look this good naked!
I spin around, cheeks flaming. Mortified.
No. I am not attracted to him.
I can’t be.
I am his slave. I hate him.
The chain on my arm pulses.
Not painful. Just enough to say he knows.
He saw me look.
He wanted me to.
I clench my jaw and whisper to myself, “I’d rather die than want him.”
But even as I say it, the warmth between my thighs betrays me. I feel hot. Burning. Aching. Then, when I close my eyes, I see Rhodes.
Tall. Dark... Handsome.
More beautiful than any man should have the right to be.
Fuck, why does he have to be hot?!
“You can own my body, Rhodes,” I mutter. “But my mind is still mine, and it still hates your stupid guts.”
After saying that, I hear a chuckle from behind me. “You really should whisper quieter, little wolf.” My blood turns to ice.
He’s right behind me.
- Writer
