I am not the Villain

“AGH!” Roseanne groans in pain. Her hands and feet are tied tightly. She struggles to be free but it is almost impossible to move. Roseanne’s amber eyes are covered by a dark cloth and she can hear the gleeful voice of a man.

“This one’s a beauty!” one of the men is saying. “She’s gonna bring us a fortune!”

“Let me go!” she demands but someone slaps her across the face. The sound of the slap echoes throughout the dark room where she is kept. Her captor hit her with such force that she can feel drops of blood flowing down her cheek. 

Roseanne curses the Crown Prince. Ivan Vissarion is a vicious man who made Roseanne’s life miserable at the royal family. Cruel and sadistic, Roseanne is his favorite toy to torment. For the past eight years, he tried to harass her or worse but thanks to her abilities, she managed to find out about his evil plans.

But that night, she was drugged and sold off to these men who are going to put her up for a slave auction.

How did I not recognize the milk of poppy? She wonders. 

“She’s got bright golden hair too!” She hears one of the men exclaim. “And that body...ugh! I wanna have a taste of her myself.”

Roseanne is on the defensive. If her hands were not tied, she could have escaped using her powers. 

But she has hidden her powers from the Lycans. If they find out about her abilities, they will do everything they can to take over her powers. 

And she cannot let them succeed. 

“Don’t be silly, Pyodor!” the other man snaps. “She’s a virgin! Do you know how much a virgin human girl will sell? 

Pyodor? I know that name! She realizes. Pyodor Berezin is an infamous slave trader who has connections with the Vissarion royal family. He sells slaves and girls to the Emperor, adding more women to his harem of courtesans. Everyday, the human girls are tortured by the murderous Lycan and Roseanne has seen the horrors they go through.

Ivan now sold her to these people. No one can save her from their clutches and she cannot risk using her powers.

Moon Goddess, please! Help me! She begs. 

“Let’s prepare for the auction, Costa,” Pyodor says to his partner. “Tonight’s event is special. I hear that a VIP is coming!”

“I don’t know but I got a card from Sloria,” Pyodor revealed. “Looks like someone important is going to grace our event.”

“You don’t think it’s the Duke himself?”

Duke? The Slorian Duke?

Roseanne is now panicking. They say that the Duke of Sloria is a heartless monster who will not hesitate to kill anyone in his way.Unlike the kingdom of Ezealyra which is filled with green pastures and beautiful landscapes, Sloria is completely covered with snow. No one can enter it without the permission of the Duke and he will not let anyone enter it. 

The Duke of Sloria is the de facto leader of the land but no one has ever seen him nor the people of Sloria. In fact, the region is so secretive and dangerous to cross, people believe that it is a myth.

Is he going to come? She wonders. I must escape!

She hears the two men’s feet shuffling followed by the sound of the door shutting behind them. They are gone. 

Roseanne tries her best to free herself but the poppy concoction has weakened her. She can sense that she is alone in the room. Even without the blindfold, she knows that the room was dark. Her limbs are paralyzed and she is unable to be freed.

“Alexei…” she whispers in despair. Her heart is bleeding for her childhood friend. Many years have passed by but the pain of losing him is still fresh. He was her confidante, the only friend who understood her. He knew her secrets and she knew his. They were supposed to be together. It was a promise they had made.

“I will always protect you, Rosie!” he had told her. “We will be mates one day. You will see.”

“But the Moon Goddess chooses the mates!” Roseanne squeaked. “What if we are not mates, Prince Alexei?”

“I know we are mates! You’ll see!”

Mates...Roseanne is lying on the hard ground. Her tears are falling nonstop, the pain in her heart growing by the second. He promised her that she would be his mate. But that promise was shattered in one night when the previous Royal Family was killed off.

“Come back to me...Alexei…” she sobs. 

…

The streets are shrouded with a deafening silence. A bright full moon is shining in the sky, illuminating the stone roads which are surrounded by gothic style slated houses, crammed together. A deep fog has settled on the Capital, clouding the vision.

From a distance, the sounds of horses’ hooves broke the uneasy peace of the Capital. Amidst the mist, a carriage appears. The wheels are coated with gold paint, attached to the mahogany vehicle which is being driven by an old driver. He drives the horses with ease, passing by the homogeneous houses where werewolves are resting. There is no one else on the street except for a few omegas and humans who are trying to find a place to sleep for the night.

Inside the passenger box is a well dressed man. His ebony hair is covered with a gentleman’s hat and he is dressed in a fine long coat which perfectly complements his sculpted structure. The man’s gaze is on a large silver locket. He stares at it, his heart cold and numb by the picture he hides in it, his eyes hidden behind the shadow of the hat.

The man is in his mid twenties but he carries an aura of authority which eclipses everyone else’s presence. There is a mischievous charm to him which attracts others. His sharp features amplify his raw magnetism, drawing all attention to him. He closes the locket and neatly puts it back into his pocket.

His manners are polished and elegant. Straightening a cane he is holding, he patiently waits to arrive at his destination.

After a while, the carriage stops. The driver climbs down and opens the door for his master.

“We are here, Duke,” the driver informs him. The Duke nods and slowly climbs out of the carriage. He is of a large build and even taller than average werewolves. In fact, he is of the Lycan race, the most superior one of all.

They are at a cheap looking tavern which leads to an underground arena. Without a word, he enters the tavern where a guard tries to stop him. But the Duke flashes in a cold glare which makes the guard gulp in fear.

“F-Forgive m-me , my lord!” he squeaks. “You can enter!”

Something about the man scared the guard. With one gaze, the guard understood that this was the Duke of Sloria, one of the most dangerous men in the continent.

The Duke simply enters the tavern. It is an old, shabby place made of a few bricks and stones. A bartender nods at him as he passes by but the Duke pays no heed to him. He heads straight towards a small wall and searches for a particular brick. He finally finds a loose red brick and presses it.

The wall jerks open on its own, revealing a secret staircase. The Duke climbs down the staircase until he reaches a large arena where hundreds of patrons are seated. They were of all ages. Some are alphas of highly important packs while others are from the nobility who are looking for new flesh. The men hold important ranks and the Duke knows that some of them have mates.

But when it comes to carnal desires, these men will stoop low enough to torment their mates and take up mistresses for themselves. Most of their mates are helpless and endure the pain of betrayal in silence. The physical pain and mental anguish they suffer is inexplicable but it is better to be tortured than rejected.

Such is the law of the Moon Goddess.

He stands in the middle of the crowd, silently waiting. His prey today is Pyodor, the infamous slave trader. There is a debt the scum has to settle with the Duke.

The Duke taps his foot, feeling impatient. He is not the only one; the crowd is also impatient. There is a rumor that a rare blonde haired virgin is on sale today. Ivan, the fool of a Crown Prince, has sold her off for ten million creds and the Duke is highly interested to see this girl.

He takes out his watch to check the time. As he is about to open the pocket watch, a host comes on the stage to greet them.

“Gentlemen!” the chubby host with rotten teeth exclaims. “Tonight, we have all gathered to see the auction of a rare beauty!” 

The men around the Duke cheer at those words. He only pulls his hat lower, hiding his presence. The Duke is the strongest person in the room but he is hiding his presence. Power should be shown only when needed.

“Presenting to you the exquisite virgin..”

Suddenly, the world freezes for the Duke. A strong scent of sweet apples hit him, enticing his senses. His wolf Deskov sniffs the air longingly, howling inside him. The aroma is seductive, lulling the Duke towards it.

He knows what it is. 

“Mate,” he whispers.

“...Roseanne Vadimovna!” The host finishes.