Chapter 4: Luke Walker

Natalia 

Another bleak winter morning descended on the Night Walkers’ compound. I awoke shivering violently on my rickety cot, body aching in protest after yesterday’s endless hours of kitchen work. The frigid air stung my raw, cracked hands and feet as I hurried to dress in my threadbare slave’s tunic. I eyed the flimsy fabric critically, doubting it would provide any protection from the icy wind outside. 

Just one month I had suffered here, but it felt like an eternity already. Gone were the simple comforts of a warm fur coat and the sheltering forest I once called home. Now my life was an endless grind of backbreaking labor and cruel torment.

In the loud, sweltering kitchens, the head cook immediately singled me out. “You there, girl! Take this slop bucket out to the hog pen and dump it. Then haul firewood back for the stove.”

I simmered with resentment at her imperious tone, but silently picked up the heavy metal bucket brimming with rancid leftovers and kitchen scraps. The frigid wind outside stole my breath away as it sliced through my meager clothing. I wrapped my arms tight around myself, bracing against the cold.

The hog pen stood nearly a quarter-mile away on the far edge of the compound. I trudged through ankle-deep snow, dreaming longingly of sinking my claws into rich earth and leaf litter, of the warm press of my packmates’ furry sides as we slumbered together. Those cherished sensations were lost to me now forever. 

By the time I reached the pen, my bare hands were painfully red and numb around the bucket handle. I grimaced in disgust as the pigs’ reeking slop splattered over my worn shoes when I overturned the bucket. "Lovely – now I could look forward to stinking like stale refuse all day." Just another of the countless indignities inflicted on us slaves.

At the chopped woodpile by the kitchen door, I began loading and lugging round after round of snow-crusted logs, ignoring the protests of my cracked, raw skin. I struggled under the increasing weight, shoulders burning from the strain. 

Focused doggedly on my task, I didn’t notice the Alpha until he slammed forcefully into me from behind. I crashed face-first to the icy ground with a pained grunt, losing my grip on the heavy bucket in the process. Half-melted snow water and refrozen slush splashed directly onto a pair of expensive black leather boots. 

"Bloody goddess!"

Furious curses assaulted my ears. I pushed myself up slowly, fresh bruises blooming across my knees and elbows. When I raised my eyes, my blood turned to ice in my veins. 

Luke Walker stood imperiously over me, one of the notoriously ruthless Triplet Alphas who ruled the compound with unchecked brutality. The cold sneer twisting his classically handsome face told me plainly this collision had been no accident on his part. Luke delighted in tormenting slaves.

“You stupid bitch!” he raged, punctuating his words with a kick that scattered snow and grit over me. “Just look at the mess you’ve made!”

I scrambled unsteadily to my feet, pain and fear momentarily overridden by anger at his callous treatment. In just the one month I had suffered here, I already harbored a deep loathing for Luke above all his siblings. He was arrogant, volatile, and loved lording his power over those weaker than himself.

“Wasn’t my fault,” I shot back, defiance momentarily overriding my survival instincts. “Someone pushed me from behind. Maybe if you watched where the hell you were going—”

“Excuse me?” Luke cut me off, his eyes flashing with dangerous promise. He stepped closer, using his impressive height and muscular warrior's frame to intimidate and crowd me. “You dare speak to me that way, slave?" His voice lowered to a soft, mocking croon. "Lick the mess off my new boots this instant, or I promise you’ll come to regret it.”

Absolute outrage blazed through me like fire in my veins. Me, lick foul slush and mud from his disgusting boots? I would rather die than debase myself so for this sadist's amusement. 

Chin jutting stubbornly, I met Luke's blistering gaze and growled, “Fuck off. I didn’t spill that, and I'm not cleaning up shit for you. Clean off your own damn boots.”

We stared each other down, the frigid air crackling with tension between us. I watched his hand drift almost casually toward the control band around his thick wrist, which could activate the shock collar encircling my throat on command. 

But instead of immediate violence, a slow, wicked grin spread across Luke's face. It did not reach his icy pale eyes, which remained hard with promise of future retribution. 

"Fine, slave," he purred, tone laden with vindictive pleasure. “If you won't lick my boots clean, then take off that filthy rag you call a shirt and use it to wipe up this mess instead." 

I instinctively recoiled, crossing my arms over my chest. The thought of baring myself before this monster and his cruel appetites made bile rise in my throat. But the predatory glint in Hunter's gaze told me plainly he would relish forcing the issue.

When I did not immediately obey, his grin sharpened, baring his teeth. “Do it now, or I’ll drag you straight to the Matrons and inform them of your disrespect. And I can promise, you’ll suffer dearly for it.”

I suppressed a shudder at the vivid threat, my stomach twisting. The Matrons’ discipline was notoriously cruel, designed to break defiant spirits. But the thought of stripping for Luke's lecherous entertainment still filled me with visceral revulsion. I wavered, jaw clenched in frustration and despair.

"No? Pity,” Hunter clucked, icy amusement never reaching his eyes. “Very well, you leave me no choice.” He lifted his wrist meaningfully.

Before he could activate my collar, I grasped the ragged hem of my threadbare shirt with trembling fingers. Maintaining defiant eye contact all the while, I stripped it off over my head and dropped to my knees in the muddy slush. 

Jaw set stubbornly, I began scrubbing his boots with the filthy, icy fabric, ignoring the way Hunter's smoldering gaze wandered lazily over my exposed back and breasts. My skin crawled with disgust under his invasive inspection. I focused on my task, channeling my rage and shame into scouring the leather until no trace of dirt remained. 

"That's much better, pet,” Luke purred in satisfaction once I sat back on my heels, shirt clutched uselessly in my lap. “But make no mistake, this isn't over between us. From now on, consider yourself my special project. I intend to keep a very close eye on you indeed.”

He crouched down to grip my chin painfully between his calloused fingers. I froze, pulse hammering against his tight grasp as he forced me to meet his wintry pale eyes. 

“Mark my words, slave. Before long, that fiery pride of yours will be tamed completely. And you’ll be begging for my touch.” His smile held no warmth, only cruel promise. “I'll make certain of it.”

I wrenched my head out of his painful grasp, uncowed. Glaring at him with every fiber of loathing in my being, I spat, “Never. I would sooner die.” 

Luke merely chuckled as he rose smoothly and strolled away, leaving me shaken and seething in his wake. I knew with chilling certainty he would make good on his threat to target and torment me now. This twisted sadist had marked me as his newest plaything, and his petty obsession would give him unlimited new ways to degrade me.

So it proved over the next weeks. Luke went out of his way to invent excuses daily to punish and humiliate me however he saw fit…