BODY AND SOUL: HIS TO RUIN

King and Queen

I marked the day. Day twenty. Twenty days of this strange, intimate ritual, twenty days of my life flowing into his.

A soft knock. My mind offered an idea - Drake. But then the door opened. Drew entered.

My heart leaped, a sudden, unwelcome flutter of dread. Drake had forbidden anyone from coming in here. How could be be here?

He carried a rolled parchment, tied with a dark ribbon."Isadora," he said, his voice smooth, too smooth. He offered the scroll. "Behold, a new arrangement."

I took it. "What is this, sir?"

"Freedom," he stated, his eyes glinting. "More money. Disappearance. You can finally leave this place, no questions asked."

My breath hitched. Freedom? The word tasted sweet and forbidden at the same time. "But?" I knew there was a catch. There always was.

"You will satisfy me," he continued, his gaze lingering on my mouth. "Now. And then, when Drake is dead, when I ascend the Lycan throne, you'll be back as my queen. You know what… I heard your wolf's call, you're my mate."

My blood ran cold. His mate? I remembered the night my wolf called. But it was calling to Alpha Drake. Not Drew.

"He's fighting a curse, Isadora. It's a matter of time. He's strong now only because you are here. Once you're free from this contract by leaving with me, he'll be weak. And when he's dead, I'll be here. I'll be King." He smiled, a predatory flash of teeth. "You have an hour to think about it." He turned, leaving the scroll in my trembling hand, the door clicking shut behind him.

I stared at the parchment, the words blurring. Mate? Escape? Freedom? It was a siren song, a desperate hope. But back into Drew's cage? As his mate. The thought was repugnant.

My stomach churned. I paced the room, the luxurious carpet soft beneath my bare feet, but my mind was a whirlwind of sharp edges. Freedom from the Dowager, from the contract, from the constant fear of aging. But to trade one master for another? To be bound to Drew, a man whose touch already felt like a violation?

Then, a different thought pierced through the chaos. Drake. He would die. The man who had looked at me with sorrow, who had fought his mother for me, who had touched me with such unexpected tenderness. The man whose body had danced with mine, whose groans had mingled with my moans. He would die.

A strange, fierce protectiveness surged through me. I found myself caring. Deeply. The thought of him fading, of him being replaced by Drew, was unbearable.

Suddenly, the door burst open, startling me. Drew stood there. It wasn't an hour yet.

He took the contract, folded the parchment in his hand and stuffed it into his pocket. "This is not necessary anymore," he snapped, his eyes wide, almost manic. "Drake has become the Mayor. In our terms, in the werewolf world, the Lycan King."

My heart pounded. King! So soon? I felt my heart leaping. But why? I didn't know.

"He has enemies now," Drew continued, his voice low, conspiratorial, "more than he can count. He'll need to replenish. To be stronger. And where do you think he'll draw power from?" His gaze raked over me, possessive, hungry.

Me, I answered within myself, the truth a cold, hard knot in my stomach. My purpose, my curse.

"Let me get you out. Now."

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. My eyes met his, then flickered to the door, to the world outside. Freedom. A chance. I shook my head.

"He's your brother…"

A sharp, searing pain exploded on my cheek. Not a slap, but a scratch from his claws. I felt the cut deep, a burning line across my skin.

Warm blood streamed down my face, mixing with the tears that sprang to my eyes. My hand flew to my cheek and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

"You don't get to talk to me," Drew snarled. "You're a w***e! An omega!" His words were a mirror of his mother's, a cruel echo that twisted the knife in my heart.

Just like his mother. The thought was a bitter, silent scream. Tears mixed with blood, a hot, sticky mess on my face.

Suddenly, I felt his hand on my ankle, strong, insistent. He pulled, climbed on the bed and tried to open my leg, to force me.

Panic surged. I kicked, my bare heel connecting with his shin. He grunted, but his grip tightened. I twisted, my body fighting against his strength, my nails scrabbling against his arm, desperate to break free. But they were nothing to his thick skin.

The door splintered inward with a deafening crash.

We both looked.

Drake!

He stood framed in the doorway, his eyes blazing, his body radiating a raw, untamed power that made the air crackle.

He moved like a blur. He lunged, pinning Drew by the neck against the wall, his hand a vice around his brother's throat.

I scrambled from the bed and folded against the wall. All I could do was look at them. More of him-the man who shouted down his mother, and was not beating up his brother for me.

Drew struggled, his feet scrabbling against the wall, his face turning purple. Drake's other hand, claws extended, raked across Drew's chest, tearing through his shirt, leaving deep, bleeding gashes.

“You don't lay your hands on her,” Drake barked. “She's mine.”

"What happening here?!" The Dowager's voice, sharp and imperious, cut through the tense silence.

She stood in the shattered doorway, her eyes sweeping from Drake to Drew to me, her gaze lingering on my bleeding face.

Drake's grip on Drew tightened, his eyes still fixed on his brother's struggling form. "He tried to force himself on her, Mother," Drake growled. "He tried to take what is mine."

The Dowager scoffed. "Nonsense, son. She's for fun. A plaything. Her powers can only work for you. For your brother, it's just s*x. Nothing more."

Her words were a cold, calculated dismissal of my very being, reducing me to a mere object.

"She's mine!" Drake roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the room, a possessive, primal declaration that sent shivers down my spine.

Drew, gasping for air, managed a choked chuckle. "In love with a whore."

Drake's eyes snapped to Drew, blazing with an intensity that promised death. "She's not a w***e!" he barked. "She's my mate!"

The Dowager's face went slack, her eyes widening in disbelief. "What?" she whispered, the single word filled with shock and outrage.

Drake released Drew, who slumped to the floor, gasping. Drake turned, his gaze sweeping over me, then back to his mother, his voice ringing with absolute conviction. "First day. First s*x. I felt it. Her wolf called to mine. And now, I'm heeding." He stepped towards me, his eyes never leaving mine, then turned back to his mother, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "No one else would touch her. Whoever does shall have their wolf lessened. Their power stripped."

The Dowager's face hardened, her eyes narrowing. "Even me?" she challenged.

Drake's gaze turned to his mother. "If that's what I have to do to make you see her as my mate, I'll do it."

His mother stared at him. Then she looked at me. I lowered my eyes. After a while, she spun on her heel, her robes swirling, and stormed out of the room. Drew, still gasping, scrambled to his feet and followed her.

Drake rushed to me, his hand gently cupping my bleeding cheek. I lowered my eyes. His touch was feather-light, filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

“Look at me,” he said.

Slowly, I did.

His eyes, no longer blazing with fury, were soft, filled with a profound emotion. "My queen," he whispered, his thumb brushing away a tear mixed with blood. "My mate."

My eyes widened. Tears blurred my vision. “My queen. My mate.” The words were spoken with such conviction, such tenderness, and they resonated deep within my soul, shattering the last vestiges of my fear and replacing them with an impossible, overwhelming hope.

“I…” I stammered. “I can't be. I can't be your Queen. I'm dying.”

What he said next was a shock.