Chapter 5

Amalthea's POV

I was still trying to decide what to do when I felt a cold hand grab me from behind.

“Gotcha!”

My body stiffened.

I slowly turned my head and my eyes landed on one of the werebears. He has a sinister smile that sent a chill down my spine.

“Hello beautiful,” he purred, tightening his grip around my arm as he pulled me closer.

“Get away from me!” I screamed in terror, years burning my vision as I tried freeing myself from his grip. “Please,” I choked out, still struggling to set myself free. “”Please just let me go.”

“Sure thing beautiful,” he let got of me, his eyes watching me like a hawk as he trailed his fingers reached out to caress my cheeks, making my skin crawl

“Don't touch me!” My voice came out harsher than I intended as I jerked my head back.

“Feisty, huh?” He gave me a sinister smile, and was about to touch my cheeks again when I sank my teeth between his thumb and his index finger, biting down hard till the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

“Ahhh! You stupid bitch!” The man growled, and his other hand connected with my cheeks with a deafening slap that sent me sprawling to the ground, my vision blurred. “I'm going to make sure I kill you!" he snarled, and raised his hand to hit me again.

I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the impact, but then something warm and sticky splattered all over my face, some of it getting into my mouth.

Blood.

I slowly opened my eyes, and my breath caught in my throat, as I stared at the lifeless eyes of the werebear, his heart ripped from his chest.

Thud! He fell to the ground just beside me, making me flinch, and my eyes landed on the mask man, his eyes held that unnerving intensity as he stared at me.

I didn't know what to feel, relief or terror? But before I could process anything he spoke.

“Get up,” he ordered. “We need to get moving before others show up.”

I nodded my head in response, and made to stand. “Ouch!” I winced, and fell back onto the ground as a sharp pain shot through my left ankle.

Tears burned my vision at the nerve wracking pain.

“What is it?” The masked man asked in an indifferent tone.

“I– I sprained my ankle,” I muttered, trying to hold back fresh tears threatening to spill out my eyes.

The masked man sighed in exasperation, and muttered something under his breath, as he scanned the area around us.

Without warning he crouched down in front of me.

“W-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” He asked, not sparing me a glance. “Get on my back.”

“W-what?” My eyes widened in disbelief. “I–i can't–”

“Fine,” he stood up abruptly, brushing off dirt from his pants. “You can stay here since you've chosen death.”

“Wait!” I called out desperately, as he was about to leave. The day was getting dark, and if the werebears didn't come for me, I'm sure some wild animal would have me for dinner.

The masked man sighed for the umpteenth time before turning around and crouching in front of me.

This time I didn't ask questions and just got on his back, biting back a groan as I matched my sprained ankle on the ground.

It felt awkward at first, as I didn't know how to place my hands. We barely knew each other and here I was climbing into his back.

But the further we walked into the woods, I pushed my pride, or whatever it was aside, and rested my head on his back as exhaustion slowly began to take over.

We walked deeper and deeper into the woods for hours, and not once did he lay me down to rest or anything–truly, he wasn't ordinary.

The trees began to thin, and I could see faint lights in the distance, as well as buildings.

We finally arrived at what looked like his Pack, it was deserted given the time, it was probably past midnight already, so the Pack members were sleeping.

We arrived in front of a castle like building, with modern features. A few guards were on patrol outside and when they saw us coming they bowed their head slightly.

The masked man nodded in response before heading into the building.

Most of the lights were switched off so I couldn't make out the interiors, but from the little my eyes could make out I could tell it was glamorous. The outside smelt of everything wealth, so I expect the insides not to be less.

“Y– welcome,” a woman walked up to us, and bowed her head slightly at the masked man.

“Tell the healer to look at her ankle, then get her ready,” the masked man ordered as he put me on the ground, and the woman offered her shoulder for support, before he walked away.

“Can you walk?” The woman asked.

“I can manage,” I muttered, biting back a groan that threatened to escape my lips.

The woman led me to a couch.

“Sit here, while I get the healer,” she instructed before walking away.

I sat down in the living room for probably the next fifteen to twenty minutes, before the woman from earlier walked in, with a man who held a small deep bowl on his hand, .

“Ouch!” I winced, as the man touched my sprained ankle, and began to apply tumeric paste on it.

“This would help with the swelling,” he said, as he continued to apply the paste.

“Here, drink this,” the woman from earlier, handed me a cup, and the strong spicy scent of ginger wafted into my nose.

With my nose scrunched, I gulped down the ginger tea in a go.

After applying the tumeric paste, the man covered it with a bandage.

“I'll check on her tomorrow,” the man said to the woman before walking away.

The woman led me up the stairs with the help of a younger girl.

She brought me to a dimly lit room, and helped me with my bath, while taking extra care of my ankle and the paste applied on it.

“What's your name?” The woman asked, as we stepped out of the bathroom.

“Amalthea,” I answered.

She nodded, before walking over to the wardrobe in the room, and brought out a lingerie.

“His majesty will be with you soon,” she said, and my stomach sank, as reality came crashing down on me.

For a split moment I had forgotten what I was brought here for.

A tear rolled down my cheeks, but I didn't bother arguing or fighting as the woman put the lingerie on me.

Without another word, and one last glance she walked out of the room.

I sat down on the bed with different thoughts racing through my mind. What if the Lycan king doesn't find me appealing–not like I care, but it's a significant factor if I want to keep the breath in my lungs.

The ticking of the alarm clock at the other end of the bed only added to my misery.

Tick. You're doomed.

Tick. No one would help you now.

Tick. You'll get ripped to shreds by the Lycan king.

Each tick made my heart race twice as fast, and I couldn't take it anymore, as at this rate I feel I might die from a heart attack than from the Lycan King's hands.

Biting back a groan, I stood up from the bed, and gently walked to the other side to switch off the alarm clock.

As soon as I got hold of the clock, I heard the sound of the door knob twisting, and then the door swung open.

I froze.