CHAPTER 5 - OCTAVIA
2676 Words
“They can’t do this.” Tristan runs his fingers through his hair, leaving a tousled mess behind. “I mean, they can. But it’s f*****g barbaric.”
I pace before him, my claws extending and retracting anxiously. “No. They can’t do this. This isn’t the 1600s. I still have rights.”
“Rights are for humans,” Tristan comments blandly. “We’re Shifters. Completely different.”
“Now is seriously not the time to joke,” I snap. “Do you want me to be shipped off? To the bloody Wyres of all people?”
Tristan’s dry expression turns dark. A vein ticks along his sharp jaw. “No. Of course not.”
“Then help me figure out a way to get out of this.”
He shifts on the bed, snatching my hand in one, smooth move, and pulls me closer. “I would do anything for you. You know this. But I’m also a nobody.”
“Your father owns half of Atlanta,” I reply. “You’re not a nobody.”
Tristan waves my words away. “An heir is nothing. A Fox Shifter heir to Wolf Shifter parents is even more than nothing. They tolerate me because I’m the only kid they’ve got left.”
A morbid silence settles between us. Tristan was the youngest of five brothers. And all five had been killed by Wyres. If anyone would hate to see me married to one of those monsters, it would be him.
“Maybe your family can speak to my parents,” I say finally. “They wouldn’t be happy about this.”
“That’s an understatement,” Tristan mutters.
“Then they’ll try to convince them that this is a shitty idea,” I finish. “Please. Talk to them.”
Tristan sighs, scooting over on the mattress to make room for me. I sit, tucking myself into the crook of his arm as if we were kids again.
“I’ll do my best,” he tells me softly. “But, with this, I can’t make any promises.”
“Mother thought I had sex.”
A short, harsh bark of laughter fills my ears. “And who the hell did they think was the culprit?” I glance up at him with raised brows. Tristan’s cheeks flush red. “Wait—are you serious? That—There’s—”
“I told them that would never happen,” I assure him. Tristan’s mouth snaps shut. A shadow flits through his eyes turning the usual brilliant emerald to a muddy green.
“Is that because the—the Wyre wants you to be…?” He can’t even finish the sentence.
I shift away from him, thinking. “I’m not sure. They’ve barely told me anything. As usual.” I straighten as if struck by lightning. “But what if that’s the case? What if the Bloody Prince specifically asked for me to still be a virgin? And if I’m not…”
Understanding dawns on him. “Then you won’t be able to be married to the bastard.”
“Exactly.”
“But where the hell are you going to find a guy to sleep with you?” he asks. “The entire Shifter world knows who you are. They wouldn’t f*****g dare. Not if they value their life.”
I sit there. Waiting.
It takes him a bit longer to get where I was going with that. “Oh.” He pulls back a bit. “Oh.”
“Come on, Tristan.” I lean in closer, letting our shoulders brush. “If I wanted to lose my virginity to anyone—it would be you.”
“Because I’m the only option available?” he replies dryly.
“Because you’re my best friend and I feel safe with you.” My head tilts just beneath his jaw, lips brushing against his neck. I feel him shiver beside me, a tremor so faint I almost think I just imagined it.
The scruff along his jaw scratches along mine, the same dark color as his hair. For the first time in my life, I wonder what it would actually be like. To be with someone so completely. I know what happens—I’m not that sheltered. But I’ve never experienced it for myself.
“Have you ever done it?” I ask softly. The heat of my breath warms my lips as I press them to his neck. His muscles tense beneath my hand as I trail it along his arm.
“No.” His voice is strange. Almost strangled. “I haven’t—found the right person.”
I snap up. “Then this is perfect. We can just get it over with and solve two problems in one go. Neither of us will be a virgin anymore and I won’t be shipped off to be a monster’s breeder. It’s a win-win.”
He’s silent for a beat, as if he’s really contemplating my plan. But when he turns to me, his eyes burn with a dark intensity I’ve never seen before. We’re so close that our noses nearly touch, our breaths mingling as one. Shivers jolt down my spine, pricking along my skin.
His fingers brush along my jaw, soft yet firm, searing me. My eyes snag on his lips, full and red, and desire pools in my gut. How have I never noticed what Tristan really looked like before now? How have I never seen him? I shiver again as his hands slip back down my shoulder, trailing across my collarbones. Leaning closer, our lips nearly meet, his breath warm against my cheeks.
“No.”
I blink, frozen in place. “No?”
He studies me for a moment, his eyes tracing every line, every curve of my face. “If I wanted to have s*x with you, this isn’t how it would go. I wouldn’t do it just to save you—I’d do it because you really wanted me.”
The space beside me feels cold and empty as he pulls away, unable to meet my gaze.
“So you wouldn’t try to help me,” I reply coldly. “Even if not doing this means I’m shipped off to the middle of nowhere in the mountains, far away from you, from home, and married off to some monster.”
His jaw clenches as fox-like claws extend from his nails. “That’s not fair and you know it.”
“What I know is that I came to you for help and, so far, you’ve done nothing but make jokes.”
He turns so fast we nearly collide on the mattress. “I’ve done a lot for you over the years. I come when you call like some trained pet. But this? You’re treating s*x as if it means nothing to you.”
“So?” I argue. “What if it doesn’t?”
“It should.”
“And give me one good reason why,” I reply, ice freezing over my words.
His eyes lock with mine. “When you do it with someone you truly want—you truly love—then you’ll know.”
I take a slow, shaky breath. A spark of rage ignites in my chest. “Get out.”
“Octavia—”
“I said get the f**k out.”
“If that’s what you wish.” Tristan goes still, lips thinning. “Princess,” he adds.
I feel him move towards the door, hear the soft click of the latch as it closes. I don’t move until I hear his footsteps fade as he descends the stairs down the hall. Then I grab a pillow, my claws digging into the soft material, pressing my face against it.
And then I scream.
The wolf inside snarls, echoing my pain. My anger. My frustration.
My fear.
Tristan was my only hope. The only one I know I can depend on. Whenever I got in trouble, I always knew he would be there for me. Apparently, I’d asked too much. But how else was I supposed to escape this fate? Father and Mother clearly didn’t care about my safety or happiness. They only cared about ending this war. But was my life—my future—really worth it? Am I not allowed to be at least a little selfish when it comes to things like this?
My thoughts turn to the Bloody Prince. By all accounts, the man was worse than a monster. He’d personally led attacks against the Shifters when he was only nineteen, still under his father’s thumb. When the old Alpha finally died, he took over.
Since then, he’s been strategically picking us off bit by bit, wearing away at the edge of our territory. The Wyres have always been ruthless, but his reputation exceeds him. The Bloody Prince is a tale mothers tell their pups to scare them into misbehaving. He’s a whisper in the wind of gossip at every meeting, every dinner, and his name always carries a tinge of fear. Even for us. They still call him the Prince, though that’s not his real title.
Alpha.
An ancient, barbaric term. One my ancestors had gladly tossed aside for a more regal one. When I marry the Bloody Prince, I won’t be a princess anymore. I’d be called Luna. A title that held far more of our culture and history than anything I hold now.
But I don’t want to be a Luna.
I just want…to be me.
Letting the pillow fall to the floor, I rise. My reflection glowers back at me in the vanity mirror. My cheeks are flushed red, my eyes watery and wide with fear and barely contained fury. The tips of my canines prick at my bottom lip. But I’m too upset to care.
They will not get away with this.
I will not become some monster’s plaything. I’m not sure how, but I’ll find another way to end this war that doesn’t involve selling me off like cattle. Mother and Father can do as they wish, but they don’t control me. Not entirely.
And if they try to make me go, then I’ll go kicking and screaming. I’ll fight them with everything I’ve got. The day the Bloody Prince takes me as his wife is the day he’ll regret it and every single day after.
I’ll make sure of it.
+++
Nothing has been working. My usual repertoire of resistance goes virtually unnoticed by my parents. Wolves are stubborn, and this battle between us is turning into a cold war. It doesn’t matter how many times I refuse to attend dinner, or how long I refuse to speak with them—they just…don’t care.
In between the bouts of silence and petty behavior, I spend most of my time in the library. Usually, I avoid confining myself to the mansion as much as possible, but duty calls. I’ve read up on everything we have about the war, though most of its earliest accounts were lost to myth and legend. My family brought over most of their records from the Old Country, but it’s not enough.
With a frustrated sigh, I slam one of the few hundred old texts shut. More are scattered around the long table in the center of the hall, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I’m not even sure why we have so many books. It’s not as if anyone actually comes to the library and reads. Not in this day and age. We have phones for that.
My thoughts whirl. Nothing in these books has given me any sort of idea of how I could end this war without being shipped off like a prized pig. Most of it includes accounts of some of the worst battles; ones where too many lives were lost. I’m surprised both Shifters and Wyres have survived any of it.
Footsteps sound down the hall and I tense. I recognize my mother’s swift, fluid gate, the way her heels click on the marble floor. And I’m really not in the mood to ignore her now. All I want to do is scream. To rant. Talk to someone about how incredibly shitty this situation is.
I want to whisper my fears of the Bloody Prince. Of the Wyres. Of my future.
Tristan hasn’t come to see me since my proposal in the bedroom. It’s the longest we’ve gone without speaking. A part of me is embarrassed about how I acted then, but the anger of his refusal stings even worse. So far, that is still my best plan. My only plan. If the Bloody Prince wants a virgin bride, then I could save myself with one simple act.
Clearly, it is easier planned than done.
The door opens and Mother steps inside, her movements loud in the silence of the library. “Octavia?” She doesn’t need to speak loudly. With my heightened senses, I could hear her miles away. Which means she can also hear me just beyond the stacks, sitting at the table.
I wait for her to appear between the shelves, dressed in another black pantsuit. Her hair is left undone this time, flowing in rich, inky waves between her shoulder blades.
“Octavia.” She stops just beside me, hands clasped in front of her. When I don’t answer, she sighs. “Are you going to ignore us forever?”
“Just until you end this insane plan of yours,” I reply bitterly.
She sits in the chair next to me, reaching across the table to take my hand. I move it to my lap, fists clenched tightly. “Some day you’ll understand. I know that’s cliché,” she says quickly, “but it’s true. When you become Queen, Luna, whatever it is you’ll be, you’ll understand then.”
“I understand now,” I tell her. “I understand that you and father have taken the easy route instead of figuring out another way.”
“There is no other way,” Mother snaps. She takes a deep breath. I can feel her wolf so close to the surface. “If there was, we would take it. But there isn’t. We have more experience in these matters and, most of the time, we have to make hard decisions like this.”
“You made it look like a pretty easy decision to me,” I scoffed.
Mother’s silver eyes sharpened. “That’s enough.” She stands, her back stiff with anger. “Your dramatics ends now. You will be on your best behavior when the Prince arrives in two days.”
“When the what comes in two days?” My head whips up. “You can’t be serious.”
But I can see that she is.
In two days, the Bloody Prince will be at our doorstep. The monster that stalks Shifter children’s nightmares will be here. In my home.
“I came to give you a warning,” Mother replies. “You will see that this peace treaty works out or you will forfeit your right to the crown.”
She doesn’t wait for my reply. Turning, she sweeps from the library, letting the door slam shut behind her. I can only stare after her, open-mouthed. Ice freezes my lungs, constricting my air. My wolf self growls in the back of my mind, snarling in protest. But I remain silent.
My whole life I’ve been training to take over from my parents. That’s been my sole purpose for the past twenty-two years. To threaten my future like this, to take away the one thing I’ve lived for, is cruel even for my parents. The peace treaty is important, yes. But not so important as to threaten the future of the entire Shifter kingdom.
The sound of my fist hitting the table echoes throughout the room. My claws dig into the wood.
Two days. That’s all I have to find another solution. To find another way out.
Two. Freaking. Days.
- Writer
