Chapter 5 - Caged

Selene

After Anton takes me away, I find myself in an incredibly spacious room that's clothed in riches from top to bottom. The place is so big that I feel like a tiny, irrelevant speck, and more tears and sobs continue to fall from my eyes.

"Crying won't change anything, you know."

I sniff and raise my head at Anton's voice. He's looking at me with little emotion, although his eyes betray a little compassion.

I fall to my knees and press my forehead to the ground. So much has happened in so little time, and my head keeps spinning.

"Please," I beg. "I'm nobody. The Lycan King can find someone better. Please."

"I'm afraid I can't help you in that respect," he says, and I can see a flash of pity cross his face. "He's given his orders, and he wants you."

Lifting my head, I ask, "Why? Why me?"

He doesn't respond.

Moments later, a young girl no older than I am steps into the room. She's wearing a cream coloured gown that brushes her ankles and has sleeves that reach her wrists. Her head is inclined downwards as she moves, and her eyes are trained on her feet.

"Master," she says to Anton as she stops by his side. Her hands are clasped together. "You requested for me."

Anton barely spares her a glance. He gestures in my direction. "Get her cleaned up. Make sure she's presentable for the king."

She nods. "Yes, Master," she says, and starts to move towards me.

I start to move away, seized by another bout of fear. Get me presentable for that monster? Why?

The look he had given me back in that hall was so strong that I had feared I would break apart. It didn't help that moments after our eyes met, I felt the oddest sensation in my chest—like something had been pulling me to him.

But that can't be possible. Why on earth would I ever feel connected to the man that has been said to be so ruthless and unkind? It was probably all in my head.

The question that remains is what he wants with me. He could have decided to just let me go with the others if I was going to be made into a servant.

He had said I was his.

Anxiety crawled up my throat and hung there, making me nauseous.

"I suggest that you don't try anything funny," Anton says, stopping me in my tracks. His handsome face is back to its expressionless form. "King Tavius doesn't like it when things don't go his way."

My lips tremble. This is really happening. I've been taken as some sort of . . . pet for the king.

Oh, Goddess, what will I do? Is it a crime for a person to be vulnerable? If I'd never fallen for Darius, would this have happened to me?

As his name crosses my mind, a new wave of fresh hurt spills through me. He actually rejected and betrayed me. To him, I was nothing but a passing fancy.

Anton leaves me in the room with the young girl.

As though his presence was like a weight on her shoulders, she lets out a long breath. Her shoulders rise a little, and she lifts her head higher.

Her eyes are warm. Kind. Full of pity. "There now. I know it's scary, but it'll be worse if you don't do as Master Anton says."

I press my lips together. It's obvious that causing a scene will not help me at all. Self-preservation kicks in, and I decide to comply.

"What does the king want with me?" I ask. "He separated me from the others I came with. He took one look at me and singled me out."

Her eyebrows slightly furrow as she thinks. "I can't say for sure, but," her cheeks slightly redden, "he's never requested for a woman to be taken care of before."

"What do you mean?"

She looks around timidly, and lowers her voice. "I can't say too much, but it's unlikely he wants to harm you."

"How can I be so sure of that? His men killed members of my pack—slaughtered them like chickens. I don't—I want nothing to do with him."

She sighs. "I don't think you have a choice."

————

I eventually allow the servant—Leticia—to help me wash up. Although I don't allow her to clean my body, once I'm done bathing, she swiftly appears and wraps me in a large towel.

It occurs to me that I've never had an actual bath before. Back at the quarters that I shared with the other breeders, bathing was usually a rushed affair consisting of a tiny cubicle, an always too small bar of soap, and a bucket of water.

The fact that here, I actually sat in a clear white tub filled with rose-scented water and had the luxury of actually getting all the dirt off my body, was a shock.

Leticia directs me to the dressing table, and sets me down on the chair in front of the mirror. There's already a dress on the bed, and although I haven't been able to inspect it closely, I can tell that it's a far cry from the rags I used to wear.

The servant runs her hands through my hair gently. My hair that's usually a dark brown looks almost black since it's still a bit damp.

"Now that you're all cleaned up, we'll get you dressed. The King will request for you soon, and you have to be ready by then."

Every time someone mentions the Lycan King, my heart skips a beat from the fear that it incites.

So, that's how he actually looks. From all the stories, I'd expected him to be more beast-like and terrible looking, like al the horrible deeds he's said to have done.

I didn't expect him to look so . . . beautiful. Youthful even.

Werewolves age slowly once they get to their prime, so I know that he's likely older than he looks. He has the face of one still in his mid-twenties. Defined, sculpted muscles had shifted underneath his shirt as he had walked up to me. His hair has the most unique look I've ever seen—black, but with streaks that burn a deep red when light touches it.

In summary, if Anton is considered very handsome, the Lycan King supercedes that by a wide margin.

I shake my head to remove such thoughts from my mind. He's the reason that I'm here, and he should be treated no better than the monster he is. There was always some ounce of doubt whenever I heard stories of how he conquered a pack, or raised a territory with his men, but after the things I saw this night, I know for a fact that they are true.

Maybe his reason for bringing me here is so that I will start to think otherwise. I won't give him the pleasure.

With Letitia's help, I get dressed.

Indeed I look so different, and so familiar all at once. My skin's finally been freed from the constant film of dirt. The dress, although simple, is sophisticated enough that I actually look like a respected member of the society. The bust of the dress is a little bit free, given that I'm probably a few inches smaller than the appropriate size. My exposed collarbones press against my flesh, and I don't miss the hollowness of my cheeks.

"You're beautiful," Letitia says. "It's no wonder he took interest in you."

I pat down the sides of the dress, biting my lower lip. I don't want him to take any interest in me. I just want to be left alone.

I put on the shoes that came with the clothes, refraining from speaking. I still don't know if I can fully trust her. For all I know she might be a spy.

It's barely seconds after I'm finally done preparing that a heavy knock comes on the door of the room.

Letitia goes to answer it. I hear the gruff voice of a male telling her that the King's waiting.

"Alright. She'll be right down," she responds. The door clicks shut, and she comes back to where I stand. I hold my breath, already knowing what she's about to say.

"The King's ordered you to come."