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2024-10-29 19:42:56Little clouds that, like ravelling skeins of glossy white silk, are drifting across the hollowed turquoise of the autumn sky. The scent of a thunderstorm and snow drifts by closely.
As River walks through the camp, she looks at the common women, noticing a split lip here, a bruise there. One girl, young and otherwise pretty, had a star-burst scar on her forehead where a spear butt had struck. Her stare lingers on their faces long enough to feel an ice finger touch her heart.
She wonders if Hadrius would be as callous and brutal as the men. She expects nothing short of such violence, yet hopes she would not surpass his limits. He held the power in their relationship and should he wake up one day and decide to whip her bloody, neither man nor woman would bat an eyelash at his actions.
River licks her teeth and grits her teeth at the possibility of such a thing happening; she is a slave and mistakes are bound to happen, a spill of wine here, the crease of cloth the
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The Beast's Slave 10
Leaves crunch beneath Hadrius’ bare feet.He moves with agile ease, in hand he carries the limp body of the woman he had murdered amidst fucking her.His eyes idly scan the campsite, seeking men who sat outside their huts or around the fire speaking in low tones, sharpening their battle swords or simply dozing with chins tucked on their chests.Hadrius steps past the treeline, walking deeper and deeper still. The woman in his arms sways lifelessly, eyes dimmed like the onset of glaucoma and staring at the twilight sky. The trees rise all around forming a thick canopy of leaves that block out the moonlight, allowing only faint slants of white that cut across his bare back and ponytail that sways with elegant laziness, the silver barbells pierced horizontally on his nipples glimmer wickedly.He ducks beneath a low branch and straightens as the trees slowly part, revealing a partial clearing where his second-in-command currently stands, nude, arms cros
The Beast's Slave 11
River wakes before the crack of dawn - her body seemingly unable to capture a full night’s rest as she had tossed and turned on the hardened divan. She lays on her back, staring at the wall, hyper aware of the cold morning air that filters through partially opened windows, skimming over her sweat drenched skin.Goosebumps rise.She sighs and rubs her eyes while slowly pushing herself into an upright position. Automatically, her eyes slant towards the large figure that remains still beneath a thin silk sheet. Hadrius is motionless, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest. He lies on his back, one arm cast over his eyes, the other resting over his bandaged torso.She studies his form, realizing then just how large the man is -- it seems the queen sized bed is not sufficient for his bare foot peeks just about the edge. She traces the curve of tribal markings along the sole of his foot, wrapping around each toe, and wonders why he seems so intent on cov
The Beast's Slave 12
Each footfall of River’s shot panic up her knee, stabbing her heart with a pained intensity. Fear expands within her, threatening to break her skin. She struggles and fails to maintain each measured inhale.Anita walks beside her in a manner of submissiveness, head lowered to the floor, a shawl wrapped around her head to hide the formation of new bruises that map her skin. Odin had done that to her, River realized, horrified. Her stomach cartwheels at the prospect of what he might do to her.“What does he want with me?” River finally manages to speak, a strange touch of pain in her voice. She glances sideways at Anita whose gait is monotonous and holds a slight limp to it, each footfall causes her to wince in mild discomfort. “Anita-”“Just count to ten,” the girl whispers in finality, though she does not look up, “count to ten and it will be all over. Or think of your family… or something other than…
The Beast's Slave 13
Hadrius did not return throughout the evening.River remains in the room, pacing back and forth, unable to still the lengthy juddering of her heart. She pauses at one end of the room and gnaws on her fingernail, unconsciously biting too hard and drawing blood.The pain is sharp and instant, briefly drawing her from her mind in a web of stinging thoughts. "Fuck," she curses lowly and makes for his bathroom carefully washing it in the bowl of water before tearing a thin strip from the hem of her skirt and wrapping it around her thumb.The pacing continues.It does not stop until the familiar discordant sounds of voices echo from the outside as the beasts began their return, howls of their wolves drifts from the mountains and hills, resonant laughter.Nothing that gives evidence of tension.River’s shoulders sag. That could only mean that they did not know what Odin had done to her. Hadrius must have left the camp altogether.A kno
The Beast's Slave 14
The icy grey sky restlessly grumbles as clouds part with a sigh, roaring rain pounding on the men, reflecting the hazardous yet calm anger that brews within the warlord.The harsh rain obliterates the crystal reflection of the sky and turns it into a disoriented haze that only sharpens his senses further acutely, and as darkness shifts, so does his reptilian calculative eyes - drifting from one man's face to another.In the dimness of his mind, Hadrius feels his wolf rise on its haunches, shifting the thinness of skin that struggles to maintain his human form. He is hot to the touch, firm lips twitching with a spasm of vexation.Anger is an understatement, fury itself seems nothing more than a speck of dust before the warlord's building temper. Knowing that one of his men had touched a possession of his was not only degrading but outright insulting. A challenge to his title for no respect lay in such actions.It stained his authority over them as Beta, se
The Beast's Slave 15
River does not know what to expect when Hadrius had commanded her to sleep in his bed for the night.His demand, curt and cold, feels like a hunting crop lashed across her face, and she stands before the queen sized bed in a daze, hectic spots of red dotting her cheeks.Her mind reels with dark, nebulous thoughts. Having just barely survived Odin’s sexually deviant behaviour, she wonders if Hadrius is trying to do the same, perhaps in a more coaxing manner. Like a spider, he is slowly luring her in gossamer threads, wrapping her gently, spreading her wide— her mouth grows bone dry at the prospect of him.Unlike Odin, Hadrius is an intimidating behemoth of a creature. She could not fight him off, and if she did try, River is sure he would snap her elbows within a heartbeat.He is your master, the voice urges, dryly unpleasant, stealing her fears beneath the conventional expected role of a servant.You do not deny the man who claimed you
The Beast's Slave 16
While wiping the warlord of his own potent cum, River realizes two things; one of them being he holds a beautiful, distinct mole just below his navel, like a dappling horse.The second is, beneath his intent, lambent gaze the room suddenly swells around her like a bruise. It is just the two of them yet she feels the four wood walls press towards her, like lungs that had breathed in.As the cloth rubs at his torso, feeling ridges of muscles bump beneath, River focuses on each narrowed breath. The room smells musky and sour at once, as though a thousand suffering people lay sweating in it, and then ground roses into the floor with dirty feet.She lowers her head further, chin almost brushing her chest, urging the singed strands of hair to curtain her face as fingers of flame slowly wrap around her neck then ears, pinching them red. River blinks hard as the cloth scrapes lower and lower still, sucking her tongue hard as his cock comes to view, limply resting on the
The Beast's Slave 17
“It seems they were here.” Hadrius tilts his head heavenwards, studying the faint crowding of dark clouds. His nostrils flare mildly as he inhales and lowers his gaze back to the path set before them.A village had been massacred— and it was not by his men.The buildings are delapitated structures that remain standing through faith and decaying pillars, blood sleek across earth crusted walls and soil as though someone had done it deliberately. He drags a thoughtful finger through the dirt and lifts it to his nose, taking a short whiff before licking the sand, sucking his finger thoughtfully.It tastes familiar, of dirt and rustic blood yet underneath lies a subtle undertone of fur.The taste of something putrid… rotten… nonhuman.It is neither the wolves nor is it the vampires.Hadrius gathers a fistful of the coarse sand and straightens, watching as the contents slip from between his fingers. “Any survi
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The Beast's Slave Bonus 1
The bonus chapter most people have been waiting for and an important note at the end. “Brother.” The warlord glances up from the alliance paper sprawled before him and at Cain who sits at the head of the table. Beside him is another Alpha, supposedly from another wolf pack that Hadrius could not remember. There was a lot to remember. Hadrius blinks and Cain’s pointed stare drops to the table, “Will you not sign it?” The warlord glances down once more to find the ink pen had dripped onto the paper’s corner, a blank space still awaiting his signatory. He sits straighter and clears his throat, “Yes.” Drawing out his signature, Hadrius caps the pen and slides it towards the awaiting mediators and legal advisors who peer over the papers once more before nodding at the pack leader. Every man rises then, pausing to stare upon Cain and the new Alpha as they exchange firm handshakes and murmurs of ‘we
The Beast's Slave epilogue
The week had gone by in a blur of activities; Novus’ final sighting before the eyes of the public - his execution and burning at the altar. There had been an incoherent pleasure that drifted through the warlord at the sight of Novus’ clipped and outraged face as he gazed upon River, alive and healthy despite his endeavours. He had gone into a frenzy, a sort of madness, regression as the guards dragged him up to the altar. Blood and fluids trailed in rivulets down the man’s wounded body, gaping gulleys of flesh and flashing alabaster bones still unhealed in display for those watching in raptured silence. He was cursing the brothers out. Eyes wide and terror-filled, frothing at the mouth as indecipherable words left him. Neither Hadrius nor Cain flinched at the horrific sight, their countenance masks of clean-cut stone, pristine and unwavering at his curses that dissolved to pleading and begging. They fell on deaf ears. The guards bore him down on the wooden cr
The Beast's Slave 69
Hadrius sighs, “No you’re not.”River’s smile droops, “You have to admit it was a good prank.”Wordlessly he draws her beneath the sheets, worn out not only from the day but her endless antics. For the first time in a long time, Hadrius feels his age. Unable to keep up with her youthful banter and annoyance that is endearing but twists something ageing in him.Her purring picks up in the silence, filling the void as he strokes her hair lethargically. “I have a question for you.”River’s head tilts up in his embrace, searching his face in the darkness.His gaze remains fixated on the wall, then slowly draws down to her. “Would you like to be Luna?”“Luna?” She echoes and he nods.“It’s a title parallel to queen.”“Oh,” he feels her fingers play with his pierced nipple, rolling the barbel back and forth. “No.”
The Beast's Slave 68
“She performed a partial shift.”The warlord’s intent, worried stare lifts from his mate currently sitting on the healer’s table, and to the source. The healer stands by his side holding a large leather-bound book with ancient diseases and plagues that befall the Lycans. His hand rises to rub the throbbing spot between his brow, a tension headache bloomed out of fear and pure terror for his mate.Thrice in his life now River has nearly given him heart attacks and high blood pressure.“A partial shift,” he murmurs thoughtfully. Such shifts were rare, one in every five centuries would either be born with the inability to fully shift or a human turned would only grow out their tail and ears.His gaze returns to his mate, now freshly dressed in a clean white shirt and skirt, her bare feet doodling circles on the air below. She is rubbing her ears in wonder, turning her head this way and that whilst staring at her reflection
The Beast's Slave 67
“Crawl to me.”Heat flares throughout River’s body as she kneels a distance from him, dark eyes fixated on the warlord’s shadowed face. Her lips are slightly parted to which she shuts gently as he arcs a sardonic eyebrow and taps a patient boot on the floor.River swallows, throat jerking against the dryness and obediently she lowers both palms onto the carpet. As her hands sink into the cushioned floor, blood rises stinging to her cheeks, wide eyes brilliant and unwavering on his dominant countenance.Slowly, like an obedient puppy, she obeys.Each movement is slow, her knee rising in tandem to each hand, hips swaying like a swelling tide in the ocean, from side to side. The sheer dress caresses her skin, whispering along the curves of her body and she feels her nubile breasts gently press on her inner arms as she crawls.He watches her. Hellfire swallowing his gaze in absolute darkness, not once leaving her face as space b
The Beast's Slave 66
River woke with a fire of determination lining her veins. All she sees is red whilst stomping down the palace’s hallway in search of the one person who would know Hadrius better than she did.Despite the weather’s coolness, dark winter clouds lumbering lowly, heavily, River still feels the prickling sensation of heat on her skin, rubbing its friction hands up her inner thighs, cupping her throbbing womanhood.Hadrius had refused to touch her and she threw a tantrum throughout the night, then cried believing that he would allow her to suffer in such a way. In retrospect, River cannot help but cringe inwardly at the realization that she truly shed tears over his cock and sudden chastity.It’s the heat, she reasons, it has to be.Since its beginning, she had been nothing but affectionate for the warlord, oftentimes wanting to hold him if not fuck him. The emotions that tumult within felt vivid; love, caring and adoration. Sometimes she woul
The Beast's Slave 65
The serenade of the black wintry sky is filled with a choir of stars that sing patterns across the dark, each musical note wavering in the air and seeping into the warlord’s room.The silence is broken by such song, along with the restless shifting of covers as River lies beside him in unsettled slumber.Something slips through her blood and she turns, unconsciously slinging her leg around Hadrius’ waist, but the brushing of sweltering skin is enough to shed hairs of sleep from her mind. Peeling one hesitant eye open, she peers briefly around the room through a hooded lid, then slumps back onto the pillow beneath her.There, she finds herself torn between the carousel of ideas that fill her awakened mind and the whispers of sleep that still call back to her.River sighs against her arm. An itch dances along her nose but she brushes it away, following the movement of her hand to the slumbering behemoth beside her.The twisted bedsheets d
The Beast's Slave 64
Hadrius stares.The numbing shock that cripples his nerves only thickens at the sight of his human. She still watches him, a slight haze to her cloudy eyes and she blinks once more, the earthen color shifting to golden if not for more than a second before dissolving.His lips part to speak but no sound leaves.His hand tries to rise and reach for her but leads weighs them down. A shocking anchor rooting each limb to the spot.Seemingly undisturbed, or perhaps unaware of his distraught state, River searches his face over and over, suddenly alert and confirming a dreadful suspicion that did not come to pass.She sinks back into the table. “I thought you had died—” A startled huff of breath vacates her lungs as the Warlord’s large body suddenly climbs atop hers.Hadrius does not know what he is doing, not until his hands reach for her face with desperate urgency, his mouth finding her own in a bruising kiss as teeth graz
The Beast's Slave 63
Cain stands on the ridge, watching the dark shapes of battle moving across the field. He cannot make out faces or individual forms. The charge of his hellhounds onto the final remaining Lycans, striking them down like useless things, uprooting them like weeds on a rainy day.The thrum of satisfaction juddering within feels like power, a hammering beat to his chest that lines his veins with the fire of victory. A godly glory.The writhing field is like a gorgon’s face slowly turning his face to cut stone. The kingdom had finally fallen.“Cain!”The voice that calls him is distinct, sharp as jagged sea rocks. Cain slowly angles his face over his shoulder, Lycan eyes offering clarity as the distant figures approach. He sees Hadrius leaping off a horse, his men not far behind.There is an urgency to his face; a twist of sheer cold terror that causes Cain to hesitate. Hadrius has something in his arms.Cain sees it in pieces.
