The Three Wives Of Lord Apollo: The Apex Bloodline

Avania Two hundred and fifty. Fifty in the west. Forty-five in the east. One hundred and fifty in the south. And Five in the north. These were the total numbers of all the werewolf packs. And among them all, the northern packs were the deadliest and most feared. Moonfang, belonging to the Lycans. Silvermoon, belonging to the Hybrids. Moonbeam, belonging to the Werewolves. And the most dangerous of all: The Mountain, belonging to the Apex. Of all places, I was sent to the deadliest. The Mountain pack. To serve none other than Lord Apollo… as his concubine. **** “What is he like?” I asked, turning to the red-haired man who had purchased me from my mistress. I had been told very little about the transaction, only that I was to become Lord Apollo’s concubine. A man who was completely foreign to me. Despite being servants, Omegas were not allowed access to any information about other packs. We were banned from participating in pack activities or mixing up with other people. Whenever our Luna was to be given any news, I was told to leave, and if I was caught lurking, I would be beheaded. Cruelty was a child’s word when it came to Luna Gertrude. I still remember her laughing herself hoarse when the offer for my purchase was made, her eyes widening with shock before crumpling into mockery. “You?” she had said, pointing at me like a dog begging for a leftover. “You, Avania, becoming the concubine of Lord Apollo?” She laughed again, cruel and loud. “Doesn’t the Moon Goddess hate you so much that she wants you to die miserably? Do you know how many concubines he’s taken? Do you know what happens when you’re not fit to carry an Apex child? It feeds on your insides, slowly digging its way out, strangling you with its own placenta. And for a sick thing like you, it wouldn’t even take months. You’re as good as dead. What do I care, anyway?” She had snatched the purse filled with coins that seemed too much for a slave girl, from the red-haired man, still laughing, while he stared at me with something close to pity. There was an intensity in his gaze I couldn’t fathom. like someone who had done this too many times, who couldn’t bear it anymore, but continued out of duty. I almost felt pity for him, which was ironic, considering my situation. I was an orphaned Omega, the sole survivor of my village after everyone was slaughtered, taken by the Silvermoon pack at five years old. I barely remembered my parents, what it felt like to have a father who protected you, or a mother who held you in her warm embrace. I had been lucky enough to be spared an ounce of beauty by the Moon Goddess. Otherwise, I would have been sent to the fields like the other Omegas. Instead, I was taken in by Luna Gertrude and made to serve her in the pack house. “You know what? I don’t care if she dies!” Luna Gertrude’s voice snapped me back. She snatched the second purse with more aggression, causing the man to tilt backwards. It was obvious he wasn’t that old, but I couldn’t understand why he was that frail. As he struggled to regain his stamina, the wind lifted his red hair, revealing a scar carved across his right eye. A finger mark. It appeared fresh like it had been done yesterday, however you could see that it wasn’t recent at all. Had one of the girls he had purchased tried to escape? Had they given him that scar? “Is there anything you would like to say to her before I take her away for good?” The man mumbled through clenched teeth. Visibly upset that he had been shoved by lady Gertrude. “As long as I’m paid, you can have this cursed thing,” she spat again, every word dripping with venom. My skin crawled under the intensity of her hatred. Her sadistic smile was the last thing I saw before I was lifted and carried toward the carriage. Soon, it was just me and the red-haired man, seated side by side, each facing opposite directions. The carriage was so dark I could barely see inside, as well as cramped, barely fit for livestock, let alone people. So much for royalty. “Sir, I need to know, what is Lord—” “Why don’t you see for yourself, child,” he cut in as the carriage came to a sudden halt. At once, my blood seemed to freeze, my heart locking painfully in my chest. I peeked out of the carriage and saw a towering castle before me, larger than anything I had ever known. Yet it was devoid of warmth, stripped of color, as though life itself had been drained from its stone walls. The stench of death clung to the air, and a deep, rooted loneliness crept beneath my skin. The man murmured something to the rider. Moments later, the carriage door swung open. He stepped down first, then extended a hand toward me, silently signaling that I should follow. If I had never known fear before this place, my heart now beat with a dreadful anticipation. What was happening? What had I been brought into? All my life, every decision had been made for me, but at least I had always known what was expected. Now, I was utterly blind, my buyer refusing to tell me anything at all. “You know,” I said, forcing the words past my throat as I stopped mid-step, “as an emissary, it is your duty to tell me about whom you have purchased me for.” He stopped as well. Sweat trickled down my forehead, the price of every ounce of courage I had summoned. My gaze remained fixed on the floor, bracing myself for his response. Then he laughed. His hand flew to his lips as his laughter echoed through the empty hallways, carried by the wind and thrown back by stone walls. “You mistake me for an emissary, child,” he said at last. “I am only here to carry out the king’s bidding. And believe me when I say this…it is better that you come to know him yourself.” As if summoned by his words, a woman appeared and bowed deeply before him. She wore a simple white cotton shift cinched with a brown belt. Her hair was braided in the Roman fashion, and bangles adorned both wrists, but these were no ornaments. They were slave bonds, marking her clearly as a servant, not royalty nor nobility. “Welcome back, Lord Ortho,” she said. “It is good to see you.” “You honor me with your loyalty, Martha. It is good to be back,” he replied. They exchanged smiles, an oddly familiar gesture between a lord and a maid. “Now,” Lord Ortho continued, “show young Ava to her chambers and prepare her for an audience with the king.” “What?” Martha’s face drained of color, dark circles deepening beneath her eyes, bringing the color of dreadfulness to light. “My lord, I thought—” “As the king commands,” Lord Ortho cut in coolly. “I would have it no other way.” With that, he turned and walked away. **** I was nervous beyond words as I clutched the hem of my silver dress, the fabric clinging tightly to my body while I waited for his presence to grace the room, or, as Martha insisted on calling it, my chamber. She had taken her time preparing me. So much so that I barely recognized my reflection. The silver gown molded to my figure, layers of makeup softening my pale skin, transforming me into someone unfamiliar. Warmth brushed into my cheeks, shadows darkened my lashes, giving my eyes a depth I had never seen before. My lips were tinted a delicate rose, no longer cracked or dull, but full and plump. Even my hair had been transformed, washed, smoothed, and styled to fall in loose waves over my shoulders, shimmering faintly against the gown. The woman in the mirror looked composed. Desired. Almost powerful. She did not look like an Omega who had been bought and sold. She looked like someone meant to be seen. Minutes passed in a haze of anxiety before the door finally opened. My heart leapt as I straightened, bracing myself for his entrance. The moment my eyes met his, my breath caught. He looked nothing like I had imagined. He was… devastatingly handsome, out of the world. His body was perfectly sculpted, skin glistening with sweat, likely from sparring. Damp strands of brown hair clung to his forehead, accentuating his sharp jawline and flawless nose. His hooded brown eyes were intense, clearer than the open sky, and his presence was overwhelming, most of all his scent, deep and rich, like cocoa and heat. My wolf stirred for the first time in my life. A sudden warmth spread through me, making me feel heated instantly, forcing me to clamp my legs together just to steady myself. He was still several steps away, yet his effect reached me all the same. What was happening? Had he done something to me? If he was death, why was death so alluring? So inviting? With every step he took closer, my wolf grew more restless, her agitation bleeding into me until my thoughts blurred. Then I heard it, soft at first, barely a whisper. Mate. The word echoed again, louder this time, bursting with excitement. Mate! I understood her reaction all too well. At twenty-one, I had begun to lose hope of ever finding one. I was already past the age most Omegas discovered their mates. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I looked up at him, waiting for realization to dawn. As an Alpha, he should have known instantly. But he didn’t. His face remained expressionless as his gaze swept over me, menacing and cold, sending my heart racing for entirely different reasons. “Are you the slave girl Ortho purchased to be my concubine?” he said flatly, as his gaze swept across my figure. “I expected… much more.”