02

A violent draught pebbled her skin and the thief gritted her teeth while urging her feet through the city and into the woods. Alessia quietly chose a familiar path that wound between the tall, silhouetted trees like a slinking serpent, the growing darkness sinking around her. She exhaled and squinted up at the fence that suddenly stood erect before her, a small gaping hole made in one corner. After crawling through the space, she staggered the rest of the way in hopes that  her spilled blood would be washed away by the rain drumming down from the heavens.

The Alpha's palace came into view a moment later, bright as a falling comet amidst the sweltering blackness. The path she took was smooth and paved unlike the dust-kicked path in the market, each brick being polished until it was gleaming under the night sky - gleaming much like the walls and the doors and the glossed windows that approached.

Gritting her teeth to stop them from chattering, Alessia stepped from the path onto the grass and warily found the small jigsaw of vines obscuring a ladder that scaled the palace wall. Her ladder, she liked to call. As she tilted her head upwards, the image of a familiar oval window at the top, spilling golden light from within, graced her insides and her bruised body. The rain pattered on her thinly flushed skin. 

She considered chucking a pebble at the window and having Circe sneak her in through one of the doors but her throbbing side protested, along with the fact that the Alpha's daughter wasn’t permitted to walk without the accompaniment of a guard - despite it being within the secure confines of her home. Sighing, the weary thief began to climb the wobbly vine, inhaling a sharp breath each time her hand stretched out to pull her upwards. It felt like a knife to the gut with every hold. 

"Circe," she whispered harshly once her fingers gripped the ledge. A soft hum cooed from the bedroom. Peering over her shoulder and down at the twenty-foot drop, Alessia sucked her tongue, then turned back. "Circe."

Ignoring the burning pain that ripped through her side, she hauled herself up the rest of the way and almost collapsed before the window, clumsily pushing herself into a crouch. She cupped both hands around her eyes while peering into the room on both feet. It was grand with familiar, opulent furniture and extravagant tapestries. Her eyes slowly tracked across the expanse in search of the princess, only to halt at the flutter of white cloth.

Circe was exiting the bathroom with a silken robe covering her lithe body. Despite the covering, her youthful, feminine figure was outlined beneath: the delicate column of her neck and the full, soft curve of her breasts were followed by a cinched waist that flared outwards into hips fit for breeding. 

The princess was working one hand through her gold-spun hair, removing the pins one at a time to let the strands effortlessly curtain about her cupid face.

Circe’s beauty was like an arrowhead to the heart. She possessed the epicene beauty peculiar to young girls of a certain age, short-lived, unlikely to survive past twenty. 

Her beauty was nurtured and cultivated for one sole purpose: to be the Lycan King’s virgin breeder. 

The crackling fireplace cast a glow of warmth upon her snowy skin as fresh as newly-pressed olive and a marbled flush to her pomegranate lips, which suddenly parted in a silent scream. Her words drowned in her throat at the ominous figure crouched low by her window, only to pause.

Alessia raised a hand in a small wave, her lips pressing in a sheepish smile as she watched the princess try and steady her pounding heart. She gestured at the window impatiently.

"Alessia—" Circe began as she stepped forwards, fingers reaching and fiddling with the latch. Once it gave way, the window opened and she gestured the girl swiftly inside. Luminous blue eyes swept over the thief who tumbled into the room with the harsh stirring wind as her friend. Hastily, Circe locked the window. "What happened?"

The room was warm, like the welcomed embrace of a loved one whom Alessia knew nothing of, in comparison to the gusts of wind outside. Rising to her full height, she started to unbutton her cloak, face scrunched in a tight grimace. "What didn't happen?" she muttered while growing conscious of Circe's open stare; it grazed over her bruised and bloody torso before running back to her face where a faint imprint of a hand lingered. A flash of disapproval darkened those eyes.

"What did you steal?"

Alessia blinked up at her friend, a lie ready on her tongue to save her from further questions, only to hesitate and wither at her disapproving stare. Struggling to feign innocence, her face settled for excitement as she slid a hand into her waistband and withdrew with a gleaming dagger. 

She raised it to the light, turning it this way and that, watching as it caught reflections of the dancing fire at the dangerously sharpened corners.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Lessie—"

“No, no, just... look at it, Circe." Eagerly, she stepped forward and pressed it into her friend's soft palm, then closed her hand into a fist. "Go on..." Her eyes remained bright and keen on the princess, searching for that same honeyed desire of excitement that lanced through her.

There was none.

Circe held it away from herself as though it was made of something poisonous, her full lips turning down at the corners. "Was this truly worth getting brutalized over?" 

"Yes," Alessia replied without a moment's hesitation. She reached back for the dagger with a beckoning hand. The light in her eyes danced alive with the blazing flames of the fireplace as she stared in absolute awe at the blade, causing Circe to shift in discomfort as she handed it back to her. "It belonged to a Gypsy tradesman from the fifth kingdom."

"Did it really?" The indifference in her tone was laced with a tinge of friendly mockery, distinct from the shadows that leapt in the corners of the room.

Alessia pointedly ignored her while thumbing the blade. "He said it killed a Lycanthrope."

"Well, that’s a lie."

The thief’s eyes were a honed blade that cut through the other woman. "No, it isn't."

"It's a fairy tale. A myth. Nothing can kill a Lycan and you know that. Now come," she ordered, eyes softening as she reached for Alessia's face, "Let me see your wounds."

Circe touched her jaw, unafraid. Her fingers were slender, white, and faultlessly elegant. Alessia patiently waited as her friend tilted her face left and right, her eyes lingering on each cut. Her hand dropped to the buttons of her shirt and slowly began to open them to expose the breadth of her shoulders. "You're cold," she said and Alessia shrugged nonchalantly. "My bath is heated. I was going to shower but I suppose I can share.”

Alessia was already shrugging off her blouse with a warm, cunning smile that mirrored the blade’s sharpness. “I was going to bathe with or without your consent,” she commented before shimmying out of her sodden pants. She kicked them aside, abandoning her outer clothes in a small heap, and trailed behind her friend in a bra and underwear. 

“One day, you will remember whom you are talking to like that,” said Circe chastisingly.

Alessia snorted and peeled off the remainder of her clothes as they stepped into the large bathroom. It was lavish, almost ostentatious, with patterned rose tiles and hot steam that rose in thick sheets from the large porcelain tub. The heat curled over her skin and swept over her bruised sides with soft hands. 

The pungent scent of sweat of her skin soon turned into an afterimage, faint and almost undetectable under the fog of eucalyptus oils. She gave a mocking bow to Circe.

“Apologies, my princess,” Alessia grinned with a mirthful eyebrow waggle. “Allow me to show my sincere regrets by shaving your hairy anus and making it presentable for the Lycan King.” 

Circe snorted and dipped a dainty toe into the tub, then twirled it around briefly before sinking the whole foot up to her thigh. There was not a blemish on her skin unlike Alessia’s, which she caught sight of in the large-scaled bathroom mirror - littered with scars and now dull blue-black bruises on her sides. 

“Well?” A soft splash of water touched her skin. Alessia’s attention slanted back to the princess who was neck deep in the water and watching her with steady blue eyes. “Get in then.”

The grin reappeared on her face like the sun from behind clouds. “So do you think that he likes anal?” Alessia inquired innocently, fighting to contain her laughter while slipping into the hot waters beneath her.

Circe made a noise of disdain at the back of her throat. “I do not care to know that.”

“Well, you should,” she noted and began to soap herself, lathering herself with specks of diamond whilst her friend gazed on with a peculiar look in her eyes. She soon moved onto the piece of pumice and soap brush; such puritan aids were only available to the royals and Alessia was keen on taking advantage of the benefits of their friendship. “Maybe he likes spanking-”

Circe’s eyes passed over her, displaying jagged distaste. “Can we please not discuss the Beast in my chambers?” 

“Okay, I’m sorry.” It was no secret that the princess loathed discussion of the Lycan King, for even his title bristled her feathers. Although, it was to be expected considering her position as a sacrifice soon to be placed at the altar for either his taking or death. Alessia cupped a handful of warm water and rinsed her face before settling back, skin raw and throbbing from the thorough cleaning. 

Their eyes met from across the steam. Circe had not moved an inch but remained still neck-deep in the bath, her golden hair floating about like lily pads. “How was your day?” the princess asked hesitantly as her leg brushed Alessia’s under the water. 

“Swell, I stole and got beaten by a mob of men.” A pause. “How was yours?” 

“The usual.” 

Alessia knew the drill: wake at dawn for guided meditations; be oiled and pampered by the maidens, then weighed and measured accordingly; eat from the platter of scarce foods made solely to enhance her beauty and maintain a low body fat percentage; scheduled nap and study; play the cello and harp, followed by more studying and language practice; take a short walk around the garden and return once more to the imprisonment of her room.

Alessia would have expressed her pity somewhat mildly but knew such emotional displays would only rile the princess. Circe did not need a reminder of who she was, what she was.

“What’s this?” the thief hummed while reaching across the tub for a folded book she had seen lying in the periphery of her vision. The cover was missing, the pages yellowed and the ink smudged black from lingering in the steam too long. Despite all this, she could make out the pages and detailed writing. She arched a curious eyebrow at Circe who shrugged indifferently.

“It is an erotica.”

“Erotica?” Alessia echoed and at her friend’s nod, she began to flip through the pages. Her eyes danced over the incomprehensible words before she shut it and tossed it at her friend. “Read it for me.”

This time, Circe raised a blonde eyebrow. 

“Please.”

With a sigh, she turned to a random page, then watched Alessia for a brief moment before clearing her throat. 

She caressed him gently, feeling his flesh pulse and twitch against her. His penis was beautiful, long and thick, the head large and dark like a ripe plum. Unable to wait a moment longer, she ran her tongue over the spongy tip. It was the softest, smoothest thing she'd ever felt in her life. And she wanted more. So much more.

Circe paused, her eyes flickering to Alessia who remained stoic in the water. The cadence of her breathing had slowed to a tense pace like that of sliding through treacle as a burn of embarrassment crossed her brown cheeks. 

She gestured to the princess to continue.

“Oh, Mara,” he gasped. When she looked up at him, she saw his head thrown back, the muscles of his neck flexed. "Please, love, take me in your mouth. I need you."

Another pause.

Alessia groaned, “Must you pause every time?” 

Circe chuckled lightly, “No, but I am enjoying your reaction to this.”

His pleas inflamed her. Mara lowered her head once more and sucked him between her lips. He fit so perfectly, cradled on the hollow of her tongue. Some primal, basic part of her soul knew she had tasted him this way before. She used her tongue to wet his cock until it glided smoothly in and out of her mouth. Once more, she felt his hands in her hair. Not pushing, never forcing, but simply holding her, stroking her—

“Why do you have this book?” Alessia suddenly demanded, the red beneath her skin deepening as her dark brows furrowed in confusion. A flash of doubt crossed her eyes. “Are you a virgin?” 

“Of course I am.” The book slammed shut in her hands and Circe tossed it aside a moment later. “The Luna has requested I read such books so that I may know what to do and say when the time comes.”

The breeding time. How to submit and pleasure a demon king for as long as he would let her live. 

A doleful silence settled between the two and Alessia felt a smatter of pity churn in her gut for the princess. The sacrifice was in less than a week and such a realization brought bile rising up her throat in fear. She could only wonder how Circe felt. 

Circe took one look at her, noted the sympathetic expression, then rose from the water. 

“What are you doing?” Alessia questioned as the princess began to turn around, exposing the valley of her elegant winding back, slim from the nape of her neck and curving inwards at the waist before blossoming slightly around her glossed hips - the hips of a fertile Luna, she had once overheard the servants say.

The hips of a breeder.

Circe leaned over the bathtub’s edge and reached back with both hands to spread her cheeks. The action defined her pink, fleshy womanhood shaved clean up to her tight asshole where wisps of fine blonde hair mapped.

“Well?” The princess flashed her a coy smile. “Get shaving.”