The Ruthless Lycan's Hybrid Priestess Mate

Rhea I am considered an abomination. That might be a tad dramatic, but I’m not like everyone else. At least not like anyone in the Wild wolves pack. I’m almost twenty-one years old and have never once shifted. I haven’t found a mate either. I’m a wolf-less omega, making everyone see me as weak and worthless. Sometimes, I think they might be right. But as the daughter of the pack’s Beta, I’ve lived a very sheltered life, protected by the noble station of my parents and the fact that my mother is one of the most powerful witches in her coven. Today started out like any other average day. Normal, mundane even, with my head buried deep in books. They’re my usual respite from my own non-existent reality. I don’t notice how the entire day passes me by until my mother calls me down for dinner. “Rhea! Dinner’s ready!” I close my book and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my shoulders from sitting too long. I quickly wash up and rush downstairs, my stomach growling in anticipation. As I enter the dining room, I’m thrilled to see father has arrived early today from his pack duties. It means it’ll be one of those rare days where the three of us have our meal together as a complete family. We’re barely seated for our meal when there’s a sudden commotion at the door. A series of knocks come in rapid succession, giving us hardly any time to respond before there’s a loud bang. The door is kicked in, landing on the floor with an ear-splitting thud. A group of armed men in uniforms, customary to the pack’s enforcers, troop in. They’re unsmiling, their faces set in grim lines. “Is something wrong?” Father is already standing up to meet them, his brows creased in concern. “You’re to come with us,” one of them says, his deep voice booming. He looks like the leader, standing a bit taller and broader than the others. “Come with you?” My father runs a hand roughly over his closely cropped hair. “Is something wrong with the Alpha?” The man completely ignores the question. Instead, he says, “You can either come with us willingly, or we’ll have no choice but to take you with us forcefully.” “Forcefully? What are you on about?” My father asks, his voice rising in pitch. “The Alpha has ordered your detention based on allegations of treason against you. You’ll be detained until your trial, which will take place early tomorrow morning.” “Treason?” I gasp, a cold fear slithering up my chest. My father, accused of treason? That’s impossible. He’s the most honorable person I know, and I’m certain he’d die to protect his brother—the Alpha. “There must be some sort of mix-up here,” mother says, coming to stand beside father. “Whatever the case may be, right now you’ll have to come with us. Tomorrow, during the trial, you’ll have the opportunity to plead your innocence.” “No!” I scream, going to stand in front of Father. “He’s going nowhere with you.” One of the men moves forward menacingly, and from the look in his eyes, it’s obvious that he’s not against using force to remove me from his way. “It’s fine,” father finally mutters coming between us. “I’ll come with you.” Then, turning to me, he says, “It’s all probably just a simple misunderstanding. I’ll be back home tomorrow, safe, I promise.” He cups my face with his hands and places a kiss on the side of my head before clearing his throat. “Let’s go.” I let mother hold me as father leaves with the enforcers, his shoulders straight and his steps steady. I barely sleep a wink all night, and the few times I manage to, I’m plagued with nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat. As I turn and toss in bed, the only thing on my mind is how, in the span of a day, my entire existence is balancing on the thin edge of a sword. And now, here I find myself, at the break of dawn, seated among the other pack members, my fingers tightly clasped in mother’s hand, as we await father’s sentence. The pack square is filled with countless onlookers. My uncle, the Alpha, sits on his seat at the center. Judgement has been passed. There was just too much damning evidence against him. Correspondence between him and people from our enemy packs. Whatever happens now will be remembered by all, young and old—a tale to serve as a deterrent to others who might have the faintest plans to go against the Alpha. Through it all, father maintains his stance of innocence. Then the time comes. Alpha Xander stands up and walks to where father is kneeling. His face is stone cold, and his rigid shoulders strain against his royal apparel. Neither the Alpha nor my father say a word, staring at each other, having a wordless conversation. Everyone else falls silent, barely breathing, as if waiting for a bomb to drop, and they might as well have been. Then he gives the command, and the executioner steps forward and leads father to the guillotine. I run towards him, but I’m too late. Before I reach him, the executioner lets go of the blade, and father’s head is swiftly and neatly severed. He’s dead. An ear-piercing scream rips through the air. It might have belonged to me, but in that moment, I don’t care about anything. My father is dead. The man who has protected me all my life, who brought me back books each time from his various travels, is gone. The only person who ever truly believed in me, called me smart and beautiful, and always assured me I had a greater purpose than I could see. He’s gone. We are barely given time to grieve when Alpha Xander turns to us, and with a finger pointing in our direction, he says to the royal guards, “Seize them and take them to the royal jail.” ****** It’s been days since we were detained, days since my world was turned upside down, days since father was so brutally murdered before my very eyes. I still see his face every time I close my eyes, the grotesquerie of the entire scene, the deceptive calmness of his features just before the blade severed his head in one smooth motion. I can’t get the image out of my mind, no matter how hard I try. They said he was plotting to kill the Alpha, but that was a lie. My father was a good man, an honorable man. He would never do such a thing. But nonetheless, here we are, locked away in this dark, cold cell. I’ve lost track of time. The days blur together, as the days bleed into the nights. I’ve cried so much my eyes feel raw and dry. My whole body aches from the hardness of the unyielding floor. The unfairness of it all crushes me, making it hard to breathe sometimes. The only thing that keeps me going is mother. She holds me close and whispers words of comfort and love, telling me that everything will be okay, that we have to stay strong. She says that father died an honorable man and that nothing they say can change who he was to us. Sometimes, her voice breaks off at the end, and I can see how hard she is struggling to keep herself from falling apart. They bring us food three times a day, if you can call the disgusting sludge they heap on our plates food. The thin soups and rock–hard bread are barely edible, and the first time I’d tried the drippy curry, I had been unable to keep it down. Spitting the curry right out, unable to handle the blandness of it. But as the days go by, the portions have gotten smaller, and my hunger has grown. Now, I eat whatever they give us, down to every last bite. Sometimes, I push my plate with my barely eaten food towards mother who ravenously eats her food, as soon as it comes, and I can see that the measly portion barely satiates her hunger. So I tell her I’m not hungry, even though my stomach is gnawing at me. She needs the food more than I do; she’s lost so much weight already, that she’s now a shell of the woman she used to be. I try to remember that she didn’t just lose her husband, but she’s lost her mate too, so I can only imagine the excruciating pain she’s had to go through. I think she knows I’m lying, but she never says anything. She just eats, her head bowed low as she spoons the food into her mouth. One morning, I’m lying on the floor, curled up in a desperate attempt to keep warm, with mother at the farther corner of the cell, fast asleep, when the cell door swings open. A guard enters, followed by a strange-looking man. He has a shrewd smile on his face, and everything about him is disconcerting. his eyes scan me like I’m a piece of meat, and I feel a chill run down my spine as he looks at me. He doesn’t say a word, just nods to the guard, and just as quietly as they enter, they leave, the door locking behind them. For days, I wonder who that man was and what he wanted. But I don’t say anything to mother. She’s already worried enough. I try to push it out of my mind, telling myself it was probably nothing. But then, one morning, the door opens again. This time, it’s just the guard. His voice is rough as he barks out one word. “Up.” The guard grabs me by the arm and pulls me to my feet. I try to resist, but he’s too strong. “Where are you taking me to?” I trash against him, but he’s unflinching. Mother is crying, as she begs him to let me go, but he doesn’t listen. He drags me out of the cell, and I look back at her, my eyes wide with panic. The corridor is long and dimly lit. The guard’s grip is tight on my arm, and I’m quite certain his fingers will leave a mark, as I feel the roughness of his hand through my thin clothing. We pass other cells, but I can’t see inside them. The walls are thick, and the heavy doors block out any sound. I wonder if there are others like me, locked away and forgotten. We finally reach a large wooden door at the end of the corridor. The guard pushes it open, and I'm blinded by the sudden light. It's been so long since I've seen the sun. I blink, trying to adjust my eyes, and when I can finally see, I'm in a courtyard surrounded by high walls. The air is fresh but carries the scent of damp earth and decay. The guard leads me to a group of people standing in a semi-circle. From the way they’re dressed, i can tell they’re not from here. I recognize the man from before, the one with the shrewd smile. He steps forward, his eyes narrowing as he looks at me. I stand tall, trying not to show my fear, as I straighten my shoulders, refusing to cower. "She's the one," the man says, his voice smooth and confident. "She'll do nicely." "Where are you taking me?" I demand, my voice shaking despite my efforts to stay calm. "What do you want with me?" The man chuckles, a cold, humorless sound. "You belong to me now, you’ve been sold.”