A slave to the Alpha I rejected

Twenty

Celeste was back in her room, her body aching from Syzar’s punishment. Once again, she had been called to his study.

Given the same instructions as last time, his eyes were colder, staring, barely saying any words while she knelt under his desk as his c**k grew warm.

He acted like she didn’t matter, like she wasn’t a human being, and this time she steeled herself from crying, her body aching until she was finally allowed to rest in the early hours of the morning.

But her rest was cut short by a painful shove that pulled her awake, her eyes slowly opening to see a shadow over her and wicked, stern eyes staring back.

“Blanca? What is it?”

“Are you stupid? Wake up, slave. You have to serve the mistress, and you have been assigned to pick flowers for her from the wild garden,” Blanca announced.

Celeste had barely slept for two hours, her body heavy and eyes slow. Blanca held no mercy as she pulled her roughly toward the garden, pushing her into the wide greenhouse.

Confusion settled in her features as she looked back at Blanca, who had her arms folded and brows raised. “Get to it, slave. The mistress only likes the red roses,” she snarled.

“But these have thorns,” Celeste argued.

“And so what? Use your hands to get them, slave. You are no longer a spoiled princess. You will do the task you’ve been given and pluck at least one hundred roses, or the punishment will be severe!” Blanca called as Celeste turned back to the wild rose shrub.

Celeste let out a hiss the moment her hand came in contact with a thorn; it pinched her fingers, blood appearing immediately, but that didn’t faze Blanca.

Each pluck hurt and prickled; each stem left different wounds on her palm. The smell of blood and the paint of crimson stained her hands as she trembled with each stem plucked from the root.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she held them back even as Blanca watched, and she could see an intense satisfaction on the woman’s face—no sympathy for Celeste.

“Well, don’t spend all day; you have twenty-seven more to go,” Blanca snarled, and Celeste faced the rose shrubs once again, continuing until her fingers were numbed by the thorns.

Every minute bore excruciating pain for Celeste, but she bore it, hooked on until she held a handful of the bouquet.

Her knees and feet ached, her wounds were barely healed, and now with the pain that bruised her palms, Blanca stood with a grim expression on her face.

She snapped her fingers at Celeste like she was a child, earning her attention as she called with haste, “Quickly now! Lady Nyssa awaits her roses!” she urged as Celeste followed.

She tried not to limp as servants watched her with a harrowing unease on their faces as she passed by, but they couldn’t intervene when it came to Nyssa. She was led to the familiar door.

Led into the brightly lit space where a harem of women sat with Nyssa in the middle, all with smiles on their faces as the room turned silent and they all faced Celeste.

“Oh? I thought the whole day would pass before you showed up,” Nyssa called with a smile while the other women giggled.

“Never mind, I don’t want them anymore. I expect a fresh batch by tomorrow noon!” she called, and Celeste let the bouquet fall from her hand.

“Why are you doing this?” she called, just as Nyssa’s smile fell into a cold indifference and she walked over to Celeste.

“An Orion-blood having the audacity to ask what crimes her family committed against me?” she called with a huff.

Celeste was already weak enough, and she didn’t react fast enough to the chilling grip on her nape. “Ugh… let go… stop,” she pleaded.

“You say those words like your uncle and brother had the dignity of listening when they took what they wanted,” Nyssa said with anger in her tone.

One that made Celeste’s stomach drop. “You think too highly of yourself, Ayvoc. Alpha Syzar doesn’t care; once he is done with you… I will regard you as the filth you are. You will be greeted lower than a slave until your death,” she hissed just as the door opened.

Anora was dragged in, and Celeste’s eyes immediately widened as Nyssa reached a hand toward one of the females, who handed her a cane.

“What is happening? I didn’t do anything wrong!” Anora argued as Nyssa walked over to her; the guards forcibly stretched Anora’s hands out as a wicked lash whipped across her fingers.

Her cries echoed. “Stop… please stop!” Celeste cried, but Nyssa didn’t answer until Celeste threw herself in front of the young healer.

“I will do what you ask; I will not be late with the flowers…” Celeste pleaded while Nyssa’s gaze held a stern hardness.

The women who witnessed Celeste’s audacity spread whispers in disbelief of her actions—surprised that Celeste stood up to Nyssa—and she didn’t like that.

In an instant, Celeste was brought to her knees, the soles of her feet still stinging with wounds, as she cried out from Nyssa’s whip that echoed over her feet.

The mistress made sure to aim where wounds would be less visible, and one word of her punishment would bring Anora more harm.

“You insolent slave, you dare interrupt my punishment? You all are sinners to the Sorgale Empire. Anora, being your uncle’s illegitimate daughter, is still blood-tied to you, so each punishment I give to you is an act of mercy!” Nyssa whispered that last part.

Just as she raised her cane to hit her again, the door opened and Callix walked in, eyes keen as silence ensued, all surprised by the beta’s appearance.

Just as Celeste’s vision turned muddled and she stumbled into his arms, he caught her, and the world turned black.