2. A B*tch in Heat

~ CASIMIR ~

I was horrified.

When I’d told Ghere to order the Reapers to find women from the poorer side of the human city, I had imagined the wicked types. The women who embraced their fate and it made them bold. Instead I’d been sent a box of poorly bred puppies suitable only for drowning?

What the actual fuck?

“God help us,” one of them murmured.

I snorted.

“I assure you, God abandoned this place long ago,” I drawled.

The woman looked at me, shocked. It was the one at the center who’d stayed on her feet. She’d been staring around the chamber in horror, murmuring to herself, clearly forgetting that we wolves enjoyed heightened senses.

She remembered now.

The guards laughed, but the women’s eyes snapped down to her feet. She dropped her chin. Her hair, a rich mahogany brown, the kind that would spark red in sunlight, fell around her face in long waves, though it was messy and matted now.

She was a thin little thing, though there was evidence of muscle under those terribly fitting clothes.

Then—noting the tear at the neckline of her shirt—I started paying attention. Which made me scan the others and grind my teeth. The Reapers clearly hadn’t been gentle.

I cursed again. None of the women were even clean. I saw torn shirts, ripped jeans, even bruises. And one of them had hit the floor and remained there, as if she were already dead.

“Who is responsible for this shitshow?” I growled to Ghere below the hearing of the humans.

The male stepped up to my side, responding in kind so they wouldn’t hear us. “Khush led this foray,” he muttered.

“Order ten lashes. I asked for women who’d met darkness, not poorly freighted dolls.”

“Consider the restrictions, Casimir: those who are virgins at this age are likely more timid in their approach to life.”

“Timid? These women are helpless.” Some of them, including the one who’d stared at me, looked malnourished. I was tempted to simply send them back and tell the Reapers to try again—with more stringent instructions on who and how to select targets. “Are they even fertile?”

“Impossible to know for certain with virgins, of course. But we know they all cycle regularly,” Ghere provided.

I shook my head. “Look at the bruises on that one.”

“I believe some of them fought—”

“I don’t give a shit, Ghere. You want me to believe the guards couldn’t control these frail birds without tearing their clothes?”

The male hesitated, obviously wanting to correct me, but unwilling to risk my ire.

I rolled my eyes and gestured at him to speak—I wouldn’t punish him for raising truth, if he had it. But how the fuck was I supposed to name a mate from among these pitiful creatures without walking straight into yet another failure?

But Ghere must have read my wave to proceed as the signal to begin the rite, because he stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“Ladies, I know the day has been difficult, but I assure you, you are safe here. The King Himself, Casimir Augustus Klane, is here to greet and assess you. Despite our, er, unconventional beginning, I hope you understand that it is a great honor to stand here today. The King of Wolves seeks a mate. A human mate. You alone have been selected from among your kind for his consideration.”

I was considering very little. If this was the best the human race had to offer, we were all in much deeper trouble than I had imagined.

“A mate?” the same woman asked quietly. “I thought… the stories said he was already mated?”

Ghere opened his mouth to reply, but I spoke first. No point avoiding the truth. “She died,” I said baldly.

“May… may I ask how?” Her eyes were wary, but accusing. She was brave, this one. The others were all staring at the floor, though two of them seemed to still be at least partially in the thrall of the compulsion, because their eyes were glazed, and one was loosening a button at her throat.

I raised a brow, partly-amused, partly-impressed. “She suffered a mental breakdown and killed herself,” I said with a warning smile. The woman blinked. “Being the Wolf King’s mate comes with many privileges. But few humans are strong enough to live in my world. Hence, the Sifting.”

Ghere leaped in then, as if he was afraid I’d give away too much. “Of course, we will provide everything you need to advance in this process. The King only wishes to identify which of you is most likely to thrive.”

Thrive? These women didn’t know the word existed. I stopped listening as Ghere continued to explain the process of the rite, the tests and challenges, and their role in them.

I was fast determining that this entire idea had been a poor one. These women didn’t even have the physical strength to live here, let alone to keep up with me. Chances that they’d be capable of enduring the inevitable trials to come were miniscule.

The women’s eyes grew wider as Ghere explained the wealth and opportunity that would be afforded to them, as well as the expectation of delivering an heir, and a second child to ensure the succession of the throne.

The two who hadn’t shaken the compulsion began to shiver and stare at me with hopeful eyes.

I’d barely touched them with the power, but their minds were so weak, they were already more than half mine. It was pathetic.

“…our main concern is for your wellbeing,” Ghere went on kindly. “The King’s power relies on his utter domination of the packs. But especially those highest in the ranks of the hierarchy… which includes his mate. I am aware that your human society does not function similarly—but please, understand… the power you felt from Casimir when you entered was only a taste. He is the most potent ruler the wolves have enjoyed for centuries. You will not need to worry for your safety or provision. Our King is… formidable.”

One of the women who’d given over to the compulsion shuddered and clutched a hand to her chest.

Holy fuck. Weak didn’t cover it.

“Actually, Ghere, I think this has been a mistake,” I said abruptly, interrupting him. “I don’t believe my mate is here.”

I began to turn away, muttering to him under their hearing. “These minds are far too weak. It’s a waste of my time. We need a new pool.”

“But, look, Casimir!” Ghere grabbed my sleeve, pulling me back to face them. “They’re receptive, see? You’ve always said that a willing partner is worth more than someone who must be… urged.”

It was true. I had. But only when their commitment rose from strength in themselves. Not wounded puppies who rolled over and showed their bellies to the Alpha with tails wagging.

I could see that the two women who’d never fully released from my power were beyond willing. They were already halfway in love. Which was our entire problem with these humans. This would not do.

“The position of Queen requires three things,” I snapped impatiently. Let them hear the terms and reject them, then we could move on and find a new group of women. “Firstly, the ability to bear heirs. Secondly, submission to me as King and Mate. And third, acceptance that I will not offer love. Love is a sacrifice of self. My power relies on dominance. It weakens when I yield to another. I cannot offer it and remain King.”

I was growing impassioned, so I stopped for a moment and took a breath, dropping my voice for the women who were all listening avidly. I met their eyes one by one until I landed on the warm-haired beauty who’d spoken up.

“My Queen will receive anything material she wishes. But she will submit to me, and I will not bow. She will share my bed, my power, and my wealth. She will not share my heart.”

I’d been glaring down at them, impatient and determined. I lifted my chin and waited, but none of them spoke.

Good.

Too weak—or perhaps, strong enough only to see that they had frail hearts in desperate needs of the affirmation of a male’s—

“What happens to the others?” the mahogany-haired one asked quickly. “You have eight women here. What happens to the other seven when you… when you choose?”

I smiled. “I assure you, mate or not, by the time the sifting is complete, all of you will desire to stay here with me. And if I find you appealing, I will not turn you away.” Though, looking at this lot, most of them would be thrown back to their own world. I wasn’t interested.

Ghere nudged me, but the two who’d already given themselves both looked ecstatic.

The one whose hair was so rich and warm frowned at the floor, her eyes flitting back and forth as if she searched her mind, her lips moving though she made no sound.

She was a strange little thing—courageous to speak to me without permission. She might be fun to break if she turned out to be strong-willed.

Ghere was dry-washing his hands, looking at each of the women in turn, clearly nervous about the direction this had taken. I wasn’t sure why.

He cleared his throat. “As you’ve heard the King explain—”

“Are you violent?”

I turned back to the woman with a flat smile. “Show me a wolf who isn’t. And I am the King of the others. What do you think?”

Her throat bobbed. The tear in the neckline of her cotton shirt offered a fleeting glimpse of plump cleavage. My cock twitched.

“I meant… I meant with women… um, Sire,” she said uncertainly. “With your Queen. You said you have to dominate, that she has to submit. What is she submitting to?”

An image flashed in my head of that day just weeks ago when my second mate had killed herself. I’d had my toys, one of them by the neck.

I smirked. “I don’t make a habit of leaving bruises,” I said, letting a dark promise seep into my tone. “But they’ve been known to happen.”

The woman flinched and I sighed, rolling my eyes. “I take no sexual pleasure from violence. I am a wolf, not a beast. A loyal, submitted female has no reason to fear me.”

It was, perhaps, a stretching of the truth. But the woman looked relieved.

I was intrigued. Of them all, she’d shown the strongest spine when I compelled them. Not that that was any guarantee. The last two had been the strongest in their bunches as well, and look where that had gotten me.

Dark frustration washed through me again as I looked over this group of thin, dirty women and I shook my head. “Ghere, this is pointless—”

“I’ll volunteer,” the mahogany-haired one said quietly.

“You see,” Ghere nudged my side nervously. “One offers to be sifted already. I’m sure the others will as well. There is no need to—”

“No,” she said, then licked her lips and stepped forward. “I volunteer to be your mate.”