Bound to submit
1196 Words
Syzarion Rhal, the supreme alpha and king.
His name alone caused shudders in its wake; his temperament was that of a beast one could never predict. He was the cold, ruthless king and yet the savior of Sorgale.
His people feared and respected him, loved and worshiped him; he had won the war and freed his people from torment.
And yet, the emerald eyes and blonde hair of his blood-enemies daughter still tormented his thoughts. He had her in his palms already, so why?
He couldn’t help but question his own sanity as he got dressed with the help of a maid, his attire adorned with the royal gold Sigil and cuffs and a dark cape. As he stood, his reflection showed another presence that walked behind him.
He looked over to see Nyssa, her head bowed with a smile on her face as she muttered with a soft voice, “I am here, my king,” she said quickly.
Her stern eyes on the maid were enough of a message for the female to let go of the king’s cuffs, bowing in fear of Nyssa’s repercussions as she quickly walked out of the room.
“You really had gone to the Cross Vale pack without me…” she said as his stare met her reflection.
“You were wounded, and I see no problem in my decision. It was our only window to strike,” he said to Nyssa, who bit her tongue. He was right.
She had messed her hand up after running away from the Cross Vale pack. After a few months of Syzar’s disappearance, she stayed as a spy.
Leaving to relay the news she had gotten about Celeste’s mating ceremony—one she hadn’t expected to be received and reacted to with the raid,
Because she had planned to get Celeste first before she could get back to Silver City with Syzar.
But now she was his official slave, and the title could only be dropped by him; she was a pest.
One that Nyssa held hatred for the moment she saw her in Muriel’s quadrant, hated the evident marks of Syzar’s bites and his blessing that dripped from between her legs.
The w***e hadn’t deserved him, and she would make sure her time here would be one where she would wish for death.
She tried to push away her dark thoughts and plans to avoid Syzar’s reading stare. “You look as magnificent as always, my king,” she said to the male.
Even though Syzar’s exterior showed a brood and silent response to her words as she leaned over him, fixing his cuffs as she talked.
“I’ve only ever seen the slave under her veil when she held the pretense of being a princess, when she thought she was on top of the world and better than us,
And seeing her now, I could see she had the eyes of a betrayer; she earned her place well as a slave,” she muttered but paused.
“But giving her access to your body, my king, I fear it might leave an attachment…” She spoke carefully.
His cold amber eyes caught her stare. “I—I mean it for your well-being, my king. She is in your hands; she should not have the right to share your bed. If you want all this to see her suffer, to see her submit? Hand her over to me and—”
“Enough, Nyssa…” Syzar’s voice boomed, making her almost flinch; she couldn’t get out of his grasp.
No, she was his favorite; he always listened to her, and she influenced him. And now she knew she needed to get under his skin.
“I am just worried for you, my king,” she called, reaching her hand over his chest, only to be stopped by a firm hand and wicked eyes.
But that was a rule she had always tried to get past, a rule that no one could touch his torso—an area lined with deathly scars and trauma.
A touch to his chest, one that could cost your hand or even your life when his wolf thrashed wildly when touched.
And it was a rule she had tried to break, to be the special exception, as she swore she would,
But now the madness shone in his eyes as a warning, a primal instinct that had her pull her hand back in panic. “I made a mistake,” she quipped.
“Forgive me, my king…” she pleaded with a sultry voice and a hand tracing lower to his buckle, “but I am sure your night with that virgin barely satisfied you, something I can do best, my king,” she whined.
“I missed you…” she mouthed with a kiss to his clothed groin before she undid the zip and stared at him with seductive dark eyes.
Nyssa let out an obscene moan before she could even get his c**k out; his c**k lay dormant as she kissed the head, giving it a full swoop over her mouth as Syzar groaned,
His eyes watching her. “Take it deeper; you know how,” he insisted, and her p***y clenched just as she fully took his c**k in, her mouth filled with his c**k and heavy scent.
One thing Syzar hated was the touch of people, after his traumatic capture and entrapment in the enemy’s pack.
They tortured him and forced females on him as a male breeder to get at least one she-wolf pregnant with his offspring, but they all failed, as a supreme alpha’s genes were hard to come by.
But the touch of those forced hands still felt like a ghostly memory. He detested the touch of others; he held and needed control.
And Nyssa was an expert in his pleasure; she slagged herself special because only she was called the king’s favorite. Only she could draw out all he wanted.
She let out a pleasured gasp when she felt a wicked grip on her hair; her scalp burned from the pressure while Syzar’s c**k pushed in deeper till she felt a hot spurt down her throat.
Once she made sure to swallow, she flinched when she heard the door open, but that didn’t stop her from licking his c**k, as she didn’t care for an audience—not till a rough clearing of a throat echoed.
“The three chiefs are here, Alpha; they await your presence at the grand hall,” Cassian’s voice boomed out the moment Syzar buckled himself back into his pants.
His royal attire was set stern for the meeting ahead, a meeting of the four great packs, one that hadn’t been done since the siege.
“You know your mission,” he called out to the betas, who bowed.
Although this was an invitation for them, the true motive was to find Cross Vale’s informant.
The real leader of the siege five years ago was among the three chiefs.
And he would find out who truly gave the orders for his family’s m******e; this was just the beginning, and he wouldn’t relent.
- Writer
