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epilogue
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2021-05-24 04:59:09The 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
CarrelI would recommend The Cursed Lycan as that's my next book :)
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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
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River crouches low by the tall river reed, her body judders in slight anticipation watching the girl and boy run hand in hand as they periodically cast slight glances over their shoulders.The boy presses her against the tree, the messy fumbling of stark youthful hands is clear as he touches her. River moves slightly in the swamp, swatting at a stray fly that buzzes noisily beside her ear.She is far enough not to be seen, and close enough to gaze in morbid fascination at his calloused, coal stained hand that slides beneath the girl’s dress. It goes higher and higher revealing her soft pale legs, unmarred by scars and coagulated bruises like River’s.There is something sonorous and resonant to their intimacy that grows heated and wild as he touches something hidden beneath the girl’s garments. River knows what it is and the thought wraps fingers of flames around her neck, as though he himself is touching her.She shifts, her heart drums
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“Where have you been?” A voice questions from behind following the casting of a shadow over River, temporarily shading her from the glaring sun. “Rita has been searching for you since morning.”River finishes scrubbing her hands clean in the bucket filled with ice water, then cups a handful splashing it over her face in an attempt at cooling the rose that shakes in her blood, and shadows her cheeks. “I was washing the linens.” She lies smoothly, avoiding the girl’s stern stare.“Is it an emergency?” In truthfulness, River’s heart still tumbles, body juddering at the inability to rid herself of the intimacy image.The girl shifts to her side as they pick a path back towards the village, “Not really, it is in regards to tonight.”River licks her teeth thoughtfully, squinting up ahead as a group of children rush past them, wooden swords clashing playfully, “What of tonight?”
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“He watches you,” the girl whispers, soft lips brushing the shell of River’s ear. River blinks feigning disinterest whilst her heart slams against her sternum within.“Who?” Her voice leaves in wistful indifference. Amusedly, her friend leans against her forearm, dropping her temple on her shoulder with a hum; “Do not act so nonchalance, River, your face says otherwise.”A rose shakes in her blood and shadows her cheeks. River sucks a mouthful of the cool night air and spares a glance upwards.Past the red, orange and yellow ball of rage that roars upwards eating its way through the wooden pyramid at its base. Plumes of grey are buffeted into the night sky, carried aimlessly by the chill October wind.Ashen debris glides silently away from the smoke onto the throng of excited children and talkative adults that all sit around the great bonfire beast, their eyes transformed into orbs of light each flickering orange
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Rome was not built in a day, but it surely fell in one.Siege and terror spread throughout the city. Consciousness ebbs through her thinly, she grows aware of the hardened earth beneath her cheek and flaming heat licking across her cheeks, thick heady smoke invading her lungs, charring it.River begins to cough, struggling to blink past the haze of tears clouding her vision. The dullness that fills her hearing clears and with it comes piercing incongruous cries and high pitching wails. Something - someone - is pushing on her shoulder with forceful violence, urging her to wake.Dull throbbing phantoms along her temple and she groans, tentatively touching only to pull away with dark smudged fingertips. River angles her head slowly, faltering at the feel of something weighted on her neck, the clinking of metal.A collar and chain. She notices the women and girls then, each huddled amongst each other like sheep, petrified eyes widened in horror, reflecting fl
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Immediately, two guards appear by River’s side and, tugging at the shackles that bind her wrists, take her to his hut. River blinks downcast, fixating on her sandals as they walk across a low field, sounds of banter fading in the distant background.His building is separated from the rest, privacy. Much to her surprise, it is a substantial building, with a veranda on two sides and steps leading up to the main door. River is taking through a large hall and into an equally large room at the back. Despite the size, the furniture is sparse - single large bed, a divan set against one wall, a study table with a seat and two thick leather-bound books stacked neatly beside a candle.Wordlessly the men unchain her and step out of the room, shutting it behind. River stills at the centre, uncertain stare drifting from one corner to the next.Alone, she thinks.Shaking with cold and shock, she moves to sit on the bed’s foot but catches herself, realizing
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River startles awake then stills as jarring pain shoots up the back of her neck. She hisses, raising a tentative hand to her now sore neck then the skull, rubbing it in gentle soothing circles. A moment passes as she adjusts to the unfamiliar room she currently lay in.The divan she had passed out on, now the current source of all her muscle aches, is stiff beneath her body. She exhales softly, face scrunching at the putrid scent of her breath and body odour. For a heartbeat, everything seems normal, and she is close to rising with chores listing themselves in her mind habitually.Mistress needed her morning herbal tea then linen washed, rosemary-scented candles lit and the curtains are drawn to allow light dissolve the musty darkness that blanketed during the night -- River halts.All thoughts in her mind scatter like dry leaves during a whirlwind, her attention drifts across the unfamiliar room that takes shape. She draws in a shallow, measured breath as reali
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Hadrius.River did not know the extent of power in which his name held. The simple murmur of that word set both men and women apart from, avoiding the girl much like a plague.As though his name had been branded across her forehead, each place she walked the women scattered from her path like dry leaves.Something was terribly wrong with their reaction, River realizes, yet no one dared tell her the reason.Twice she tried approaching two girls, bent over a cauldron stirring thick chunks of stew for the men’s dinner. One girl glanced up, as though sensing an unwanted presence, then her eyes widened to saucers and she scurried away. The other simply hunched over the pot and played pretend, feigning she was not there.It unnerved River, their reactions. Something bitter and hot swirled in her belly each time she stepped out of his tent. Not that she minded for isolation had always been her preference, still…River blows out a breat
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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
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“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.
