Jaxson
It’s easy to say how I got my role as the lead warrior in the royal guard; and it’s not the relation to my father, King Alpha Kennedy. I worked hard to be the strongest warrior, the most endured fighter, and it shows when I walk through a crowd. Everyone smells the royal bloodline and when they look, they see a warrior, strong and fierce. I refuse to give up in a fight, or bend to the will of anyone that tries to challenge my father or the royal pack.
Royals are the picture of prestige and strength, a group of wolves so damning in size and strength; we are the apotome of unfiltered perfection.
We heard rumors of rogues searching for casinos to rob, most of those coins then taxed to the royal pack and if there’s one thing my father doesn’t like to be messed with, it’s his gold. Rogues are mostly harmless, a majority of them useless, puny commoners.
They can’t stand authority.
They really can’t stand me.
My warriors halt, the smell overwhelming in the woods as the wind brushes up the mountainside. They’ve got the lower ground, which is perfect for us. I reach through the link, telling everyone to take their stance, surround the group, while the stench shifts from gruesome and dirty to something sweet and familiar.
In the same whiff, it’s also new to me, calling to my wolf from a distance.
There’s a scream, the sound rather alarming alone but my wolf perks at the noise, both of us instantly understanding what is happening here. That smell, that sound of a scream, is familiar in one way and one way only.
My mate.
“Rogues,” I say, hollering, my body trembling to rip them each apart until I find the source of that floral, sensual smell. “Find them and kill them all!”
Everyone shifts, including myself, charging toward the crowd of mutts hiding in the bushes like cowards. My warriors rip through the weaker rogues, killing them off one by one, but I aim straight for the floral scent, something so heavy on my heart by the sound of her scream. I need to find her, I have to see who she is and more importantly, why my mate was screaming in such a distraught fashion.
I pounce over the back of a rogue, spotting a small, pale body pressed beneath him. He was too distracted to see me coming, his hands once laced on the hips of a she-wolf who lays shuddering in the grass, her clothes torn to shreds all around her body. She shivers, although covered in sweat, fighting for every breath like she’s being choked.
I rip off the circle of cloth hanging around her throat, hoping it helps.
The sounds of fighting still lace the woods around us but I shift back to a mortal form, kneeling over her, her skin burning hot to the touch. She’s taken something resembling poison, but she’s alive, so I can only assume she has dabbled in a potion of some kind.
It doesn’t fool my nose or my wolf.
She’s a fucking commoner.
That’s when the other scent hits me even harder, watching her writhe in pure angst and agony, battling to stay conscious. I don’t even think she realizes I am here, or who I am, curling into a ball to ease the pain of a process that is only healed quickly by one specific act.
She wreaks of alcohol, though, also tainted by the blood of her wounds. One of the rogues charges at me and I don’t flinch, one of my warriors snapping a bite into his neck, his blood splattering everywhere and yet I can’t pull my focus off of the little female underneath me, weeping and rolling back and forth, trying to find relief.
I couldn’t possibly help her while she’s in this state, her mind fogged with liquor.
But the longer she pants in heat, the stronger the smell of her hormones shed light on her identity. I know better than anyone here about how royals are drawn to the sensual scent of a commoner’s blood. It calls to all of us, fueling our power and our harsher side.
Most royals fuck commoners for the fun of it, knowing they couldn’t possibly fight back. Some of them do it to get their release and then kill the stray, leaving behind no chance for an heir that is a half-breed.
But my wolf pities this girl, the one that smells just like my mate should smell, and the intoxicating feeling of needing her trust overwhelms me. I don’t want to hurt her, and I can’t dare to frighten her further, but I have to help her get through his pain one way or another.
“Okay, come here,” I say, attempting to sooth her while I pull her to sit up, what’s left of her clothes falling to the ground while I tilt her upright. She gasps, screaming in pain, her head falling back while she threatens to pass out. “I’m sorry,” I breathe, laying her back down, my heart breaking at her whimpering.
Commoners are weak already. She’s practically limp in this state.
She weeps harder, grabbing at her stomach, her jaw locked and her knuckles white.
“Dammit,” I groan, conflicted how I should do this. “I’ll make this pain go away,” I say at last, the sounds of the battle around us finally dying down; there is only silence in the woods except for her labored breaths. I have to fix this now. “Relax, mate. Just relax.”
Aurora
It’s a blur of light, mixed with a lot of pain, and nothing makes sense except that I know I have to pass out for the agony to end. My mind begs to be set loose into the darkness, but nothing works. I notice the rogue is gone thankfully, his hands gripping me so tight before that I feel the aftermath of bruises on my body, my eyes finding the cyan gaze of a new figure hovering above me.
His touch is warm, calm, trying to brush my cheek while tears file down my face. There is carnage around us, rogues in a war and biting, whining, and death shifting through the woods and yet he seems so still, so in control, and for a moment I don’t feel the sharp pain in my stomach and my lower back.
His hands brush down my chest, grabbing for me, the pain in my back seizing and forcing me to holler out, to beg for it to stop. He understands and lets me down onto the ground, pressing his palms to my hips while I wiggle and thrash in every direction.
“Please,” I say, unsure what I am begging for, just knowing that I need this pain to stop. It feels like death. It feels worse than it felt when Luke held another woman in his arms and kissed her. “Make it stop! Please!”
“Shh,” he says, something so soothing in his deep, raspy voice. “I’m going to fix it,” he says, nodding slow. He moves closer, practically lying beside me. “Just breathe.”
At his words, I feel his hand slide down my hip, over my abdomen and between my thighs. He presses into my warm, wet sex, and my body shudders in response. I lean back, letting it happen, the relief so quick to my aches that I feel almost everything around me drain away. He presses his hand down harder, rubbing me faster, somewhere in the mix his lips finding my throat, licking the aftermath of a bite mark I know bleeds there.
I feel the punctures heal with his saliva, his kisses becoming more sensual, slower, sucking at my chest and my neck and everywhere they can reach. I try to stay still, needing his touch, needing whatever it is he is doing to keep going on. It feels too perfect.
I whimper. He kisses the air from my mouth, and I allow it, even pushing into it more.
His tongue brushes the inside of my cheek, and he moves his body over mine, his warmth an unfamiliar feeling while I feel like I’m frozen solid even if I drip with sweat. He continues, though, kissing me more, pressing further between my legs, and I find myself grabbing at his sides to pull him down over my body.
A smile breaks against my lips.
“No, sweetheart, don’t do that to me,” he says with a stiff voice, and even stiffer erection.
His hips are hovering over mine and even then, he continues with just the use of his fingers. I arch my back, pressing against his pelvis and feeling his girth. The mere pressure of it near my warm, wet core makes my wolf whine, begging as much as I can for him to let it enter my body and relieve this pain once and for all.
He is a stubborn stranger, working feverishly quicker to rub my wetness, to pleasure my pains and eradicate this heat from my body once and for all. I still try to get more from him, needing his body, needing all of it. I grab for his abdomen, wanting to run my hands over his shaft, but he yanks my hand away.
“You’re drunk,” he says, very matter-of-factually. “Don’t push me, sweetheart, you wouldn’t be able to handle my size anyways, commoner.”
I groan, my nails digging into his sides.
He growls dangerously, the noise only shocking my body into more sparks of stimulation.
“Please,” I beg.
“You better finish now,” he snarls. “I won’t hold back much longer.”
His fingers push deeper, and I gasp, my legs parting as if on cue, to grant him further access. It works, too. He moves deeper, harder, and I become wetter. I tip my head back in a daze, any trace amount of pain finally withering away while I feel his finger slow with the release of pressure in my lower abdomen.
I grab for him, needing to feel grounded, and he grinds his body onto mine. It makes me melt, his hand pulling away and then soon after, his whole body moves away too. I lay sideways, trying to catch my breath, grabbing for clothes that I no longer have. I realize too soon that any shred of fabric I had been wearing before is gone, including the makeshift gag the rogue had slipped down over my neck.
I cower under the heavy gaze of the man who helped me through my episode.
He’s a beautiful specimen, bright blue eyes, and he is given a long coat with decorated metals to slip into, along with a set of black pants he throws on as well. He yells at someone, for something, and I find myself clinging to a white shirt that he forces me into. I hold onto the fabric, trying to catch my breath.
My eyelids feel heavier than ever before.
I lay sideways in the dirt, needing to stay grounded, feeling the world fleeting around me.
“Rest, mate. I’ll handle things from here.”
AuroraI can’t recall the last time I drank but I know it has never felt like it does right now. I jolt out of my warm bed, stuck in the blankets for a second, falling to the floor and having to crawl into the bathroom so I can throw up. My stomach churns, my body so sore that I feel as if I’ve been running for days on end without stopping.The memory of yesterday floods my mind while I sit by the toilet, waiting to hurl. Luke found his mate and my stomach seizes at the sight of him kissing her so outright. Everything changed so fast, too fast, that it left me in the dust to figure out alone.Then there was the casino, the endless drinks. After that my mind goes foggy.A delicious smell of pancakes and warm syrup floods my senses, and I stand slow, catching my balance. Only now do I spot myself in the mirror. I wear a long-sleeve white shirt, something I’ve never owned nor would I; it’s made for a male. Aside from tha
AuroraLuke appears outside my house, and I want to embrace him and never let go but I am inhibited by Jaxson's arm squeezing around my bicep. He drags me from my parents, being held back by warriors, and I watch them struggle at the sight of me being taken away.I leave with a small glance over my shoulder, being tugged into a horse-drawn carriage with the proclaimed prince of the royal pack. He takes a seat on the bench, and fall to the floor, flimsy with fear, his eyes burning holes into my back as the door is thrown shut. I close my eyes, expecting a hit, expecting some sort of pain or to have him finally do what royals do best with helpless, commoner girls.His brow furrows at the sight of me.As the carriage begins to move, he reaches forward to grab me but I flinch, my hands out before me, pleading that he doesn’t touch me. Now that we are alone, and my parents and best friend are out of sight, I feel vulnerable in the carriage
AuroraEven with the immaculate bed, so large I could roll over six times and still not hit the floor, I couldn’t sleep through the night. I kept tossing and turning, moving into the suite connected to my room and splashing my face with cold water, thinking it would help, but it only made it worse as I’d lay down and end up weeping into one of the millions of pillows.I feel dumbfounded at how this situation has come about, and how I should have never gone to the casino at all, but it wasn’t the worst part of the night. I could hear women being raped, being beaten, and I know for fact they are commoners. Royal men don’t hurt royal women like this.I miss Luke, my protector, my best friend.I always had a feeling Mary had a crush on him, always staring at him longingly while he and I hung out with our friend group, but I didn’t know she had already had the inclination that they were mates. I bet she knew for mont
AuroraThe cabin is small, stuffy, with a horrible stench of animal flesh and burnt cedar radiating through the small space. There’s a kitchen fit for one person at a time, chunks of meat set out on the counter, fresh and bloody from a recent kill. The living room is a few lounge chairs facing the fireplace that runs smoke outside, some of it staying dormant indoors, making it hard to breathe without tasting the stench.Jaxson pushes into the back room, something like a bedroom. The space is small, and the bed is nothing but a pile of blankets and a sleeping bag. I spot a male moving around in there already, laughing at Jaxson’s abrupt entrance into the room, and they exchange a hard handshake. Jaxson ruffles through clothes in a dresser against the wall and I watch him slip on some jeans and a flannel top. The rustic sight of a man so perfectly formal makes my head spin.That’s when his brother steps into the room, a blond kid cl
AuroraIt feels like ages before I finally fall asleep in bed, warm under the covers and exhausted from the day. Jaxson refused to speak to me after I hit him, and I feel on some level he is busy brewing with a new idea how to punish me, how to hurt me, and I can only see the way he had thrown his own warrior for grabbing me.His strength is unmatched.He left me in my new room alone for the rest of the day, the only exception being the servants coming through to bring various foods and fruits, but I hardly touched any of it. I can tell the servants are all commoners. It makes me sick to dine while they are bruised and wounded all over.I’m surprised that Jaxson hasn’t tried hurting me like they are hurt, speckling me with wounds until I conform and give into his whims. I turn nineteen in two weeks, the pressure looming while it will be a long year until my twentieth birthday, and I can tell if he’s a liar or no
AuroraAfter a few brushes of makeup, I slip into the gown pulled for me by the mute maids. They are young, like me, watching me be dressed and made up to be a princess with eyes of envy. I would let them have this life if they wanted it, considering how much I don’t want it. No matter my wishes, I am sewn into a long ivy white dress that mirrors the color of my silver hair, now pinned in a long ponytail down my back with extensive, loopy curls.They ignore their wounds and tend to my exterior, trying to make me beautiful, but I can’t stand the sight of being looked after by girls like Callie, girls I grew up knowing and being friends with who don’t deserve this treatment. I turn away from the sight of me in this dress, feeling sick at my reflection.The dress wraps over my shoulders, crossing over my breasts and leaving a lot of skin seen, not leaving much unseen. The fabric tears down over my legs, showing my thighs through the
AuroraJaxson pushes into the washroom, his crisp blue eyes a relief to see after experiencing such a threat from his brother. I am still weak with terror, my cuts and bleeding marks just enough to mask the smell of the second prince and his hands that crawled all over my body.Jaxson grabs for me to stand, holding me upright in the glass to assess my injuries.The fiery heat is still burning in my throat, still reeling off the threat, and my wolf is pleading feel safe. Pulling back from his chest, I can only shake my head, trying to make sense of everything that has happened and what came so close to transpiring.“What happened? Did someone hurt you?” he snarls.“No,” I lie. “It was my fault, sire.”He cocks his brow, as if he doesn’t believe me. I can’t piss off his brother more, though, so I do the only thing I know will shut him up and make him forget his rambling questions ov
AuroraI wake up in a flurry of fear, screaming in pain, my body trembling as I fall to the floor and curl up in the corner of my room. I tuck my head into my arms, trying to protect myself, begging for him to stop, to have some inch of mercy, but I wait expectantly for the rogue to claw my eyes out and be done with me.Warm hands reach for my elbows, making me gasp, Jaxson kneeling before me in silk pajama bottoms and a bare, masculine chest. His eyes are tired and bloodshot, running down the length of me, several warriors posted behind him as I blink awake to my bedroom.I’m coughing my cries, so overwhelmed with fear that it takes a minute for me to realize it was only a nightmare.Again.It’s been many days since Xander had cornered me in the washroom, his threat bringing on such intense nightmares ever since. Again and again, I see the rogue from the casino holding me down, his claws dragging down my body and pooling