6

Khal Drogo.

"What do you think you are wearing?"

My eyes rake over her disgraceful excuse for a dress—fabric that reeks of humanity, nothing of the title she now holds. I take in the sight of her, waiting for her to offer an explanation, but all I see is her lips trembling like a leaf caught in the fucking wind.

"I said, what are you wearing!?"

She flinches, recoiling at the edge of the courtyard stairs. Pathetic. I rarely raise my voice unless I am in my war room, unless I am commanding men on the battlefield. But at this level of depravity, I will yell.

"Your Majesty, please—it’s my fault." the omega ward behind her pleads. "I should have told her how strict the castle’s policies are."

"Please, don’t punish her." Akemi’s voice is a whisper meant only to be taken by the bustling wind but I catch every word. "It’s my fault. I’m not used to your culture—I just wanted something familiar."

Familiar. Her word rings in my head but I know humans—they take things they do not understand as beneath. Does she find my culture barbaric?

"Take her to the Paragon hall." I do not spare her another glance before turning to her brothers, who sit atop their horses, already prepared to leave.

"Can I speak to my brothers before—"

A growl rumbles deep in my chest and it is good enough to cut her off. She swallows whatever useless words she intended to say.

Two of her brothers, Gareth and Seth. I was told the last one of them has been absent for months now, off on some voyage or another and even now, these two know better than to exchange any sentimental farewell with her. The omega ward is wise enough to pull Akemi away.

With a nod, Clifford shouts an order to the gamma fangs, who lead them out of my castle’s grounds.

Five elders are present as witnesses to this exchange of the receiving of bride price. But they are not just any elders. They are supporters of my brother, Throgo—second in line to the throne, should my reign remain without an heir or should anything happen to me.

Akemi arriving here in anything other than Basgiath attire is a scandal waiting to happen, a weakness the council will twist and use against me. They already despise the fact that she is human. Now, this?

We are not like humans. Wolves like to claw apart, detach and distort.

"You must punish her." Ozaiah grits beside me.

The present elders are already murmuring among themselves. The omega wards, the gamma fangs and others present in this courtyard will have spun their own version of what just happened.

I storm into the castle with a growl equivalent to rage. If she will not respect the laws of my kingdom, she will learn to bend to them.

"Where is she?"

The doors opens before me, revealing her in the Paragon Hall. She’s seated in a chair, back stiff and her hands clenched in her lap.

Then she sees me.

And she stands.

“Take it off.” I

“I said, take it off!” Now, I raise my voice.

Omega wards enter behind me, carrying dresses fit for a queen—dresses she should have been wearing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disrespect—”

I grip her chin before she can finish, tilting her face up to mine.

“I didn’t ask you to speak.”

Lips tremble, eyes brim to tears. When I release her, the minimal force I use still sends her stumbling back a step. She flicks a glance to my side—at Ozaiah, no doubt.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t make the king repeat himself.” Ozaiah advises.

With shaking hands, she moves to untie the corset behind her dress, sniffling as she struggles.

“Hurry!” My patience is thin.

“I… I can’t reach the laces.” she stammers in tears.

Annoyed, I spin her around. My fingers make quick work of the knots, one after the other, until the fabric loosens and falls, revealing a slip garment dress and pale, white alabaster skin. It is contrast to the dark tones of Basgiath. As the gown slides off her shoulders, she crosses her arms tightly over her chest.

“Begin dressing her.” I command.

Ozaiah steps forward and the omega wards present the first attire.

“Remove the slip, your majesty. The only man here is your husband, the king. I’m not sure what you’re covering up.” Ozaiah tells her.

Akemi turns her gaze to me.

I sigh in impatience but lift my hand to cover my eyes, if only to ease her discomfort. Yet between the gaps of my fingers, I catch glimpses of the diameter of her waist when she takes off the slip dress. I see the slight dip of her navel, the flare of her hips—wider than any I’ve seen before, round and heavy, made for gripping. All of it hidden before beneath that flimsy human dress. A waste. A crime.

The fabric itself looks like it cannot contain her.

I didn’t know humans could be attractive in form like this. I shut my eyes until minutes later when Ozaiah speaks.

"Your majesty?"

I open them and there she stands Akemi—clothed in a pastel pink garment we call Moon robe. It is gorgeous, it does nothing to conceal the beauty of her Aphrodite body. It drapes over her like a veil over a feat, the kind of sinful curves that makes my teeth ache. A shame.

"Turn." The command is for my own torment but I need to see it for myself. I am a wolf. She is my mate. I am not committing a sin.

Akemi obeys and at once, my breath hitches loudly. And embarrassingly, everyone hears it.

Her backside—gods, the swell of her backside is a match to her hips. It is more generous than average. A stance of abundant flesh that makes what should be modest, obscene. It looks heavy with a promise of softness that would yield under my grip. My fingers flex. I want to mark it, claim it—

"It is good."

I rise, needing air, needing distance but Akemi faces me.

“I apologize. I don’t see your culture as barbaric—”

“You don’t?” I almost laugh. Ozaiah chuckles.

“I know the human realms use that word often when they speak of us. I did not name myself the Barbarian Alpha King. It was the human kingdoms that honoured me with the title.”

Her throat bobs, eyes dropping—and then the tears come. Again.

"Enough with the crying!"

I stride forward before she can spill another weakness. Her head snaps up as I catch the next tear on my knuckle, rough, possessive.

“You are my queen and you will stand beside me in council once our coronation is over. You will face wolves who are waiting to see weakness, waiting to see the human in you. If you act this way before them, it will be an insult to me.”

“I don’t mean to…your Majesty.” But still, she sobs.

I shake my head. “Be lucky that Ragar likes you.” I murmur and she doesn’t understand.

“My wolf. Be lucky he likes you.”

“What is going on here?”

The voice belongs to my mother. I assume she must have already heard everything that happened. Like I said, nothing in this castle goes unnoticed.

“Is it true that she wore her human attire? And did you make the poor thing cry?”

Mother’s gaze sharpens as I step away from Akemi.

“We have made it clear to her what is expected. She won’t make the mistake again.” Ozaiah says.

“If you were one of the people explaining it to her, then I am sure you threatened her,” Mother has never liked my beta, Ozaiah. So, her attention shifts back to Akemi.

“Are you okay, dear?”

Akemi nods.

“I am Drogo’s mother—your mother-in-law. I heard from Susana and Bella that you wore something different than what was required. I understand that you must already feel uneasy being in a foreign place, bound by foreign laws… Come, let us all have lunch together. Also, Throgo has returned from wherever you sent him.”

She takes Akemi’s hand, and my jaw flexes at the mention of Throgo—my twin brother.