2

Khal Drogo.

When I laid my eyes upon her, something strummed in my chest. Her lips were as red as blood. Skin as fair as snow. The human girl looked fragile, too pure for a wolf like me. Her hair, more white than blonde—crowned her head yet fell in waves down her back. I have met many women in my lifetime, yet in an eternal lifetime, this human girl, Akemi, would pale goddess Aphrodite.

It was her scent that sprang my feet. Then, it was her eyes that kept me in front of her. Green. The color of fresh moss, they unnerved me like a man going to battle without his weapons.

She is small—fragile even—dwarfed by my size. I am easily four times her weight, and yet, when I held her face in my hands, her lashes fluttered, delicate like the wings of a trapped butterfly, daring me to be gentle. To me, her entire being is a contradiction to all that I am. And then, there was her face, so innocent, petite nose, leading to a rose bud lip—it arrested me the most.

When I touched her, it was as though she weighed nothing. The smallest hands I have ever seen, dainty and trembling, barely grazed my forehead yet it was the most intimate thing I'd ever felt despite having so many mistresses at my disposal.

 I, Khal Drogo, Alpha king of barbarians was undone by the touch of a human girl. Stupid.

Knots flexed in my chest. My own foolish heart pounded like thunder and for the first time in years, my hands quivered as I set her down. I declared those words, whether she liked it or not—Mate.

There is no treasure I have wanted that I have not added to my chest box. Yet, how can a frail human girl like her be the Luna of a pack that was built on bloodshed and power?

"Akemi is our fated mate."

"She is human!" I snap at Ragar, my wolf.

"Okay. Then, she is our human mate."

"Ragar! How can my mate be human? These are not the laws of wolves!" I spar with this truth.

"Wolves make laws. The Moon Goddess weaves destinies together."

"She is frail! A human! Have I been mateless for the past two decades for a girl like her?" My chest dabbles with fury and Ragar goes silent, leaving me alone with the storm of my thoughts.

A melanotic growl escapes my lips in response to his silence.

My mother’s voice is the first to break the quiet. “Are you sure Ragar chose her?” she asks in concern.

Beside her, my half-sister Susana leans back, arms crossed in trouble. “Are you sure she’s even a virgin? You should’ve checked before giving her the bonding mark.”

I grit my teeth but say nothing. Susana has always been tactless.

The others are listening—Gareth, my supposed mate’s brother is present too. My two betas, Ozaiah and Clifford, are flanking me, while a few elders trusted by my mother observe in silence, trying to make sense of this "abnormality."

“And how do you suppose the king would do that? Her brother swore on his neck that she is a virgin, and the whole of Basgiath heard the king call her his mate. Everyone witnessed it.” Ozaiah says.  She was there when the declaration was made.

Susana’s voice caters to sarcasm, again. “She won’t even last three days in our kingdom. She’s too fragile—looked like snow standing next to you. And if she does last three days, she won’t survive my brother’s bed.”

“Have some decency, Susana!” my mother chastises, though Susana just rolls her eyes.

Elder Rome voice cuts in. “In the human kingdom, with her noble lineage, she could be queen there. But here, we are creatures of claws. She is not made for this.”

“But the king’s wolf has spoken!” Clifford, my second beta asserts. Even though I’ve said nothing yet, my betas know what to say on my behalf.

Gareth shifts nervously but bows low. “Your Majesty,” he murmurs.

“Today, your sister has become my mate. Clifford, ensure he is sent home with the appropriate bride price—gold, silks, precious stones. Send all that is worthy of a queen.” I say.

Gareth's eyes widen. “You are most gracious, Your Majesty!”

“An invitation of the formal celebration of the bond will be sent to you later,” Ozaiah speaks up, “However, Akemi will not be crowned as Luna and queen until the consummation of the bond. Only then will we ensure her purity as you’ve sworn.”

Gareth swallows. “Of—of course.”

Just then, Magenta, the attendant responsible for preparing my mate, enters the room and bows deeply.

“Akemi has been bathed, oiled, and perfumed, ready for the bonding, Your Majesty.” she announces and with that, I walk out of the council room to do my duties as king. I consider this bonding thing a trivial affair because I am a king who has spent most of his life in battlefields, in bloodshed.

One woman won’t shift the wreckage that lies in the depths of my heart. Mate or not, she will not alter the way I make decisions. Akemi will receive the same treatment I afford my mistresses—no more, no less. Love is not a trait embedded in the blood of an Alpha king. It never has been. My head rules and occasionally, I let my cock have its say. But never will I allow it to lead and forget my crown, my judgment, or the iron grip I hold on this kingdom.

She’ll learn soon enough, if she hasn’t already—that there is no soft place to land in my world.

For twenty years as King, I have sacrificed blood, time, and life itself—molding this land into what it is today. I have fought through endless wars, spilled enough blood to make rivers, and carved an empire out of chaos. Basgiath dominates the seven realms. We are unmatched in warfare, in the forging of weapons, in the construction of mighty cities. No kingdom dares challenge us, and none can match what we’ve built. We are called barbarians not because of how we look, but because of how we lead this land—brutal, leaving nothing but submission in our wake.

All kingdoms bow before us, they would even sell their daughters for the chance to ally with our strength. And now this—Akemi—a fragile, breakable human, is the one the Goddess saw fit to bind me to?

This all began because of my relentless urge to unravel how the kingdom of Valeria reaped such abundant harvests every year. Their farmlands pulse with rare crops that thrived in every season. I need that knowledge for Basgiath. Though we excel in weaponry, construction, and warfare, our soil isn’t as generous. The variety of crops we possess pales compared to the riches of the human lands. If Basgiath is to truly become unrivalled, I need to address this weakness without revealing it to the world.

An alliance was my solution, one that wouldn’t raise alarms or spark rivalries. A family bond—a unit household that would give me what I seek under the guise of diplomacy, without admitting Basgiath’s agricultural shortcomings.

I did not expect this search to lead me to thousands of women, each offered as tribute. But among them, one scent cut through the crowd—vanilla powder, sweet like sugarcane and sharp like wild jasmine. She was screaming with all her might and my wolf commanded me to face her.

Now, I will definitely face her.

The doors to my quarters swing open, ushered by the silent hands of omega wards.

I walk past the receiving area, stepping deeper into the shadows where the bed dominates the room like a battlefield. My boots come off as I reach the edge of the rug, and my eyes lock onto the form beneath the sheets. The faint outline of her figure is barely visible, but it’s there—small. According to Basgiath’s tradition of bonding, the bride must be stripped bare, to make it easier for her husband to have access.

There’s a purpose tonight…it’s nothing more than to sow my oats in her and call it done. I yank the sheets but she’s not naked underneath them. Instead, she is in a sleeping gown, shivering silently, hands over her stomach. It’s not fear of the night; it’s fear of me.

Slowly, those doe eyes open and meets mine. I don’t need to be told that terror grips her. She’s in a land that isn’t hers, in a kingdom that devours weakness—Basgiath. My kingdom.

“Treat her well.” Ragar’s voice intrudes on my thoughts and I scoff aloud.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” I snap, for her to hear as much as him. I unbuckle my belt with and watch her recoil, shrinking into the bed as if the very shadow I cast over her is enough to break her. The sound of her sobs begins to fill the room.

Her tears...they mark me with disgust. I hate weeping women. The khol around her eyes smudges, running in dark lines down her cheeks. They whisper that I’m a monster, that I’ll take her without thought—but no. I am not the brute they imagine.

Her sobs grate against my nerves and it is riling into a fury that I am tempted to unleash.

“I’m warning you.” Ragar mutters again, but I ignore him, stepping closer to the woman.

“Akemi,” I say her name.

“You will rise on your feet whenever I command it!” I growl, and though she hesitates, she obeys, shedding the sheets and standing before me. Barely able to keep from trembling.

 “Cease those tears! Didn’t your brother tell you why you’re here? You’re here to open your legs and remain silent.”

“N-no...he didn’t.” she stammers.

My lips curl in contempt at her idiotic brother. “You’ve not known a man, so they say. If I find out that you or your brother have lied, I will make you watch as I hang your family one by one.”

The threat sends her shrinking back against the wall, but I know there will be no bonding tonight. Not when fear still pulses so strongly in her veins. I am not the kind of man who forces himself upon a woman. I am the kind who would give her the night of her life and leave her asking for more.

Still tonight, I have to mark her as mine. I step forward and reach for the ties of her gown. She gasps, trying to shield herself, but my hands are swift. I loosen the ties, exposing a tender of her pale breasts. The sight draws out my inner beast, the wolf in me is ready to claim what’s mine.

I sink my teeth below her collarbone, low enough to be seen as a cleavage. I mark her. It is a bite that will tell anyone who sees it that she belongs to me.

The sharpness of the pain, the shock of it, is too much for her fragile human body. She faints but I catch her easily, cradling her limp form in my arms.

As I stare down at her face, something strange stirs. A desire, not just to possess but to protect. My mark throbs against her skin, and with it, a raw, sexual instinct begins to brew inside me. With this mark, I will desire her like no other. Like a madman.