The Royal Ass

Every evening, Malakai would join Amani in her chambers for dinner, their shared meals becoming a regular engagement. At first, she resented his presence, preferring solitude during her newly acquired misery. However, as time passed, she found herself gradually growing accustomed to his company.

During the day, she would immerse herself in her art, her paintbrush gracefully dancing across the canvas for hours on end. Every now and then, Malakai would casually enter the room and quietly observe—a tranquil escape from his own demanding existence. His genuine admiration for her artwork was evident in his words, and she couldn't help but feel a blush creep onto her cheeks in response. Yet, a part of her chastised herself for caring about his opinion, reminding herself that she didn't need his validation.

Amani could always sense his tension whenever he entered the room. Whether he was by his father's side during court and other Royal Council affairs or on patrol for perimeter checks throughout the Kingdom, the weight of his responsibilities did not go unnoticed.

Wherever there were reports of rogue sightings, he and his unit were always there, ready to take action. Malakai had already earned the respect and prestige of a King, a result of his father's diligent training since the untimely death of the late Queen.

Reluctantly, Amani had to admit that it was becoming increasingly difficult to harbor any hatred towards Malakai. Despite his commanding presence and his need for control over every aspect of her life, he surprised her with his kindness and never caused her any harm.

Unbeknownst to Amani, Malakai was fighting his own internal battles simply from being in her presence. He struggled to suppress his wolf's primal instincts to mate and mark her as his own. It was highly uncommon for mates to go this long without coupling, and the only thing holding him back was the fact that she didn't have a wolf.

Without her wolf, Amani didn't feel the same strong yearning for the Prince as he did for her. Being a Lycan, she knew he was her mate. The spark was undeniable when they touched, but with her wolf, it would feel a thousand times more intense, both physically and emotionally.

Malakai deeply respected Amani. He wanted her to desire him willingly, without any sense of obligation just because they were destined mates. It was widely known that Malakai possessed a strong sexual appetite, and Maggie felt compelled to reassure Amani that he has remained faithful to her, which Amani was sure added to his already simmering tension.

Amani couldn't help but feel bothered at the mere thought of him being with another woman, and she found herself utterly baffled by her own emotions. She was supposed to hate him, wasn't she? She wasn't sure anymore; her conflicting emotions were becoming increasingly perplexing. To make matters worse, she caught herself anxiously watching the clock in her room, eagerly awaiting the hour when they would have dinner and spend time together.

As the weeks went by, Amani found herself gradually venturing out of her room more frequently. She started taking daily walks through the garden, accompanied by Maggie, with whom she had developed a close bond recently. The garden was a sanctuary of vibrant colors and fragrant blooms, a haven that brought solace to her troubled heart.

Initially, Amani would receive numerous stares from curious onlookers, undoubtedly drawn to the scars on her face. At first, she would lower her head in embarrassment, attempting to shield herself from their prying eyes. But then, an indomitable force within her urged her to hold her head up high, meeting the gaze of those who dared to stare for too long.

And in that moment, she discovered a power she hadn't known before. It was a power that commanded respect, causing those who lingered too long to avert their eyes in submission. Perhaps, it was because they knew who she was mated to, and they knew better.

She wasn't exactly sure what had them cowering away once she stood her ground, but when they did, she relished it. It ignited a feeling within her, something completely foreign. What was it? Could it be arousal? Of course, such power would evoke arousal for someone like her—an alpha. And indeed, she was an alpha. Whatever it was, she would be respected here. She would demand it, and nothing less.

She had actually started to grow accustomed to the scar on her face, not being blind in that eye, of course. She hated that, but she couldn't deny that the scars gave her a certain badass appeal. Each time she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, she realized that she was still undeniably beautiful.

However, the scars on her body were a different story. Amani could never bring herself to fully accept them. Whenever it came time to bathe or dress, she would deliberately avoid looking at them. They seemed grotesque and repulsive to her, prompting her to always choose attire that concealed them as much as possible.

As Amani lay in bed, lost in her thoughts, she was interrupted by a gentle knock at her chamber's door. "Come in," she called out.

"Good morning, my lady," Penelope entered her chambers with a warm smile and gracefully curtsied before Amani.

Penelope was sixteen years old and had been Amani's personal servant ever since Malakai had grown comfortable enough to allow someone other than Maggie to be in her presence. Only Penelope was entrusted with the privilege of serving Amani and being alone in her chambers. The Prince had not granted permission for any other servants to attend to her.

Fortunately for Penelope, Amani was not demanding, and she did not have to rush around in a frenzy. While Amani prided herself on her independence and self-sufficiency, Penelope constantly implored her to allow her to assist her, fearing the consequences if Malakai were to discover her performing menial tasks on her own. An incident involving Amani attempting to run her own bath had left Penelope in tears, leaving Amani both concerned and baffled.

Amani was surprised that she didn't have to call the poor girl in to chew her food for her. Were the members of the Royal Family so insistent on never lifting a finger to do anything for themselves? Amani detested slavery, just like her parents did. Though her father, Alpha Saul, was a Lord and had numerous servants, they weren't slaves. They were free and well-compensated.

Amani's father had always instilled in her the importance of self-reliance, as he believed that anything could be taken away in the blink of an eye. Little did she know how true his words would ring. In the Royal Kingdom, the situation was quite different: every omega was enslaved, obligated to wait hand and foot on those of higher status.

"Penelope, I thought I asked you to stop bowing to me. You're not a slave when you enter this room, so I want you to treat me just as you would any of your friends," Amani said, her voice firm but gentle. She got up from bed and gracefully slipped into her robe.

Penelope looked down, her eyes filled with unyielding loyalty. "Forgive me, My Lady, but I can't address you any other way. It's not proper. You will be Luna Queen one day, and I just can't treat you like you're ordinary." She hurried over to Amani's bed, swiftly stripping the sheets to lay fresh, clean ones.

Luna Queen? The thought of Amani being Luna Queen one day had never even crossed her mind. Conflicting emotions swirled within her. Did she truly desire that title? She was an Alpha, strong and fierce. Why did the idea of being called Luna make her feel inadequate? Her mother was a Luna, and was the strongest woman she’s ever known. A wave of profound sadness washed over Amani as she remembered her mother's courageous sacrifice, fighting by her father's side until the end.

"Uhm... My Lady?" Penelope hesitated before speaking up. "Did you... hear me?"

Amani turned abruptly, her attention caught by Penelope's words. "I'm sorry?"

"Today is the Alpha King's birthday, and I've been given the order to assist you in preparing for the grand celebration."

A surge of anger immediately coursed through Amani's veins. Her hands clenched into tight fists, the sharp sting of her nails piercing the tender flesh of her palms. She hadn't seen the Alpha King at all since she arrived at the place.

She assumed that the Prince purposely prevented them from crossing paths, aware of how unsettling it would be for her to face the Lycan who had issued the command to slaughter her pack. The one who had taken away her father, her mother, and even tried to take her life.

"Who gave that order?" Amani's voice trembled with fury.

Penelope hesitated, sensing Amani's sudden change in mood. "The Prince, My Lady," she uttered timidly.

Without hesitation, Amani strode towards the door, forcefully flinging it open.

"Where are you going, My Lady?" Penelope inquired, concern etched on her face.

Amani turned back to face Penelope, indignation flaring in her eyes. "I'm going to have a little talk with the Royal Ass."