Feyre’s POV
I was sitting in the library, idly going through a book when the maid came to fetch me. Alarm bells rang in my head immediately. She bowed low, rushing over her words in her hurry to deliver her message. “The Alpha wants to see you.” She panted and it was such an odd statement that I paused. My father never wanted to see me. Maybe he had once upon a time when I was younger and promising, but not since I’d turned seventeen and my first shift had still not occurred. These days, he went out of his way to outrightly avoid me, so the sudden request for my presence was strange. Not to mention worrisome. Shaking myself free of my thoughts, I rose to obey, not wanting to portray any hesitation to his summons lest it become the reason I receive a fresh round of punishments. Bookmarking my unfinished page for later, I headed out of the library with her, going down the hall to the door at the very end of my father’s study. She bowed and scurried off, leaving me to face theman inside alone. I envied her freedom to run away at that moment knowing I didn’t dare. Where would I go anyway? I had no one. Mother was dead. I had no siblings or friends to seek refuge with. All I knew was this pack. And him. Steeling myself for whatever was to come, I took a deep breath, raised my hand, and knocked. “Enter.” I heard faintly and let myself in. The blinds were down, and the lights were low so even though it was quite early in the morning, the office was dim, casting a yellow glow on the whole room. Another prickle of unease needled through me as I spotted my father not behind his desk, but standing before the large portrait of our family, a glass of whiskey in hand. “Good Morning Alpha.” I greeted and got silent in response. I fell quiet and waited to be addressed, facing his empty chair with my head bowed instead of witnessing whatever moment he was having there. To think that a pictured form of myself received more attention from my father than I did hurt, but I was long past such childish notions. After all, I am twentyyears old now. “You’ve left me with very little choices regarding what to do with you Feyre.” He started before turning and walking slowly to his desk, his words emphasized by his every step. “There’s no place in my pack for a werewolf who can’t shift, nor it would seem in anyone else’s. You can’t call your wolf and as a result, can’t find a mate with a neighboring Pack’s Alpha and at least provide me with a valuable connection. Or an heir. You play no role in the betterment of the pack which protects and provides for you every day. Tell me Feyre, of what use are you?” My outward expression barely changed but every word cut deep. I stared silently, willing the tears to hold off until I could get outside and find a safe corner to cry.“I’m sorry Alpha. I wish I could be more useful to you.” I said after a long moment when I was sure I wouldn’t burst into tears if I tried to speak. He took his seat and sighed. “Oh. You will. At long last, I’ve found something that you can do for me and your pack and perhaps finally warrant the stain of your birth in my lineage.” My head shot up from its bowed position and I saw his face for the first time since I entered the room. Hell, for the first time in a few days even. He looked tired, the lines around his face etched even deeper by stress with his graying, brown hair in disarray. He rubbed a hand over his face while I waited, anxiety building with every second he took to say what it was he meant by that statement. When he finally spoke, I almost wished he hadn’t. “Tomorrow morning, you are to accompany the Lycan King’s men to the Whitewood pack as a show of goodwill. You’ll serve as his war prize, a present from our pack to encourage him to honor our peace treaty and appreciate the unwitting victory he brought us by destroying some of our mutual enemies.” I gasped, my eyes widening and he glared at me as if daring me to protest. I suppose it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Most werewolves started to shift at the onset of puberty. By seventeen if your wolf hadn’t come, it probably never would. No wolf means no mate. As the Alpha’s daughter, not having a wolf to mate meant I couldn’t help my father ally with any other pack. What Alpha would want to risk their pups also being unable to shift as well? My pure-blood status of having descended from a long line of Alpha werewolves meant nothing if I didn’t have any wolf to show for that lineage myself. I was, as he so cruelly put it, useless. This was the only way I could possibly help my pack form an alliance. As the Lycan King’s… prize. Something for him to play with in hopes that he would not turn his rampage to our pack and destroy us as he had done several others. It was either that or… Or what? I run away? Try my hand in the human world? Helplessness washed over me, I wouldn’t even know where to start. “I expect you to be packed and ready by tonight. You leave by seven AM sharp tomorrow morning. Look presentable. Alluring even.” His look turned threatening again “You must do your best to please him Feyre. You will refuse him nothing. Do as you are told and I’m sure hewill be fair to you.” He was lying and we both knew it. If we could count on the Lycan King’s fairness, he wouldn’t be sending me out as a gift to garner his favor. All werewolves in the country knew of Xaden Whitewood. Most feared him. He had a reputation and it was not for being fair. Itwas for being Cold. Ruthless. So very powerful. And exceedingly violent when crossed. I repressed a shudder and nodded my head. “Good.” There was more silence, the only reason I didn’t leave was because he hadn’t dismissed me but I couldn’t imagine what else there was to say. I understood his spoken and unspoken messages loud and clear. Since I couldn’t be of any use as an heir or a Luna, I would be a whore. Pack above wolf. Wasn’t that the code? Even if I didn’t have a wolf, it’s not like I had anything else. What would be the point? “I wish it was different Feyre. I wish you weren’t…” He trailed off and this time I did flinch, turning my head to the side so he wouldn’t see the first of my tears start to fall. He let out a heavy sigh and then I heard his seat move. “You may go.” Immediately I rose and practically fled the office. Once the door shut behind me, I ran to my room and didn’t stop until I flung myself on the bed. I burst into tears then, heaving sobs that rocked my whole body while I cried my heart out; at my disappointing past, my hopeless present, and my terrible future.*** Later that evening as I packed my boxes, a knock came at my door. My throat was scratchy when I said “Come in.” And I had to clear it several times to be able to speak properly. I looked up to see Rowen, my long-time, one and only friend and companion. “Hi.” I croaked, my voice still not quite clear. “You’re leaving?” “Yes,” I said simply, too drained to explain any further. Drained and ashamed. If only I could shift. If only I could call to this stubbornly dormant wolf who had to be somewhere in me but still would not yield no matter how fiercely I called for her. Lessons, treatments by witch doctors, and even medical physicians had all failed to trigger my transformation. Perhaps I was cursed. I sighed; if I was the witches would surely have found it and broken it. My father took me to enough of them when I was fourteen and still hadn’t had my first shift. “I heard. Everyone’s heard.” Well, now I am even more embarrassed than before. I tried to remind myself that they were bound to know anyway. Everyone has been wondering what would happen to the Alpha’s wolfless daughter. I guess now we know. I would be the war prize for the Lycan King. “What are you going to do?” I let out a bitter laugh “What can I do Rowen? Run away? Turn into a wolf and find a mate myself? Die?” I whispered the last one and he gave me a sharp look. I shook my head. “I’m kidding.” Mostly. “Look, maybe there’s some way we can─” “There’s nothing either of us can do, Rowen.” “You don’t know that!” “Yes, I do. You’re not an Alpha so you can’t challenge either my father or the Lycan King! I’m not a wolf so I don’t even have any choices!” I sighed at his hurt look then softened my voice. “It’s okay really. Not what I hoped but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” The smile I attempted was much stronger. Now he looked sad. “I’m sorry Feyre.” “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. And you will too.” “Yeah, but I’ll miss you.” He sniffled a little and I laughed, pulling him into a hug. “I hope you’ll be okay, Feyre.” To be honest I had no idea about that but there was nothing I could do about it. “I’ll be fine Rowan. I promise. I’ll call you as often as I can.” If you’re allowed to, my brain supplied but I tried to ignore my own internal monologue. “It’ll be okay. I’ve accepted it.” Maybe not completely, but eventually, I would.Feyre’s POVI left my father’s manor, my home for the past twenty years, along with all of my belongings, accompanied by a group of strangers who were to escort me to my new home. Well, it would be more like a new prison but I didn’t see the need to be so particular. I’d dressed as attractively as I could, heeding my father’s wishes as always, in a purple dress that matched with the deep violet of my eyes. My hair had been tamed into an elegant twist at the back of my neck with two tendrils hanging on either side of my face. Even Father had approved of my appearance before we’d left. The journey took six long hours, all of which I spent riddled with anxiety before we arrived at the Lycan King’s palace. It sat up an incline, at the top of a hill, overlooking the great city beyond. My escorts dumped me before the front door, informing me my bags would be brought up before leaving. A maid waited by for me, curtsying once before leading me through a flight of stars and several
Feydre’s POVI remained at the doorway, unwilling to go near the lewd scene on the bed. His eyes, one bright amber and the other a golden-yellow scar tissue from a wound that extended above his brow and down to his cheekbones, roved over me. Heart beating faster and faster, I watched them go from mild curiosity to puzzlement and then such anger that I flinched. “It can’t possibly be.” He said in a tight voice that promised unpleasantness if whatever the ‘it was’.“Step closer Girl.” He growled at me. Shaking from head to toe, the look on his face not inviting atall, I took a few careful steps closer. He sniffed the air and then his anger morphed into rage. In a flash, he rose, the naked girl on his lap thrown off in the process. I flinched at the sight of him before me, for he was naked too. “Leave.” He thundered at her and she scrambled to her feet, grabbing her clothes and fleeing to the sitting room, one last lingering glance at me. Once she was gone, his full, angry g
Feyre’s POVI was taken to a much smaller room than the one I’d originally been shown, given the progression of events. My neck still ached, the memory of the Lycan King’s crushing grip etched into the slate of my consciousness. Garrick wordlessly showed me inside, turning back out and bolting the door shut so that I was locked it alone. I turned around to take in the room.There was a narrow bed inside along with a modest desk and chair. Nothing else adorned the room by way of furnishing or decoration. A single door stood on the other side of the wall. I opened it to see a small bathroom with a shower installed to boot. A tiny window opened to the outside, the only source of light and ventilation. Two scones were perched on the wall, but the fading rays of the sun, still yet to set, provided enough light for the moment. I didn’t bother to put them on. Evening was fast approaching, I thought walking to the window. I had somehow managed to survive my first day within that ruthl
Feyre’s POVThey didn’t come for me until the next evening. At first, I thought it was the maid so I didn’t bother to stand up from my bed or even turn to look. She would drop the food on my table “You need to come with me, Miss.” A strange male voice I’d never heard before said and I startled, turning my head to see a guard waiting at the entrance of my door. I sat up straight, heart flying to my mouth immediately. I was already dressed, albeit still in the outfit I’d worn upon my arrival. I’m sure I looked a sight in my rumpled outfit, but my bags hadn’t been brought up and I’d had to re-do the same dirty, rumpled dress after my shower this morning. Despite my bedraggled appearance, I arranged my skirt around my legs and walked past the guard, staring straight ahead and keeping my chin high, doing my best to bolster my courage with a few breathing exercises and mantras. I would not cry. I would not beg. I would accept whatever fate I was given with as much grace and
Feyre’s POVI let Garrick lead me out of the throne room unseeingly, tears blinding my gaze and sliding quietly down my cheeks. After a few minutes, I pulled away from him and wiped them off with the back of my hand, preferring to follow on my own. He glanced at me but said nothing, taking his arms off me once I tried to shrug him off and striding so he was firmly in front. We went through the halls of the castle and I could barely notice the surrounding decor, defeated as I was by the proceedings of the meeting I’d just left. Xaden had let me go. Something I hadn’t thought possible. His disinterest had actually worked in my favor. I could have been on my way home by now. I could have had a chance to figure out what to do with my life, even if I was no longer welcome in my pack. I could have been spared this but instead, I was here, being led further and further into the castle that was to be my new prison. And it was all because my father hated me. Hated me for being a disappoi
Feyre’s POVI was led out of the dressing room by Mrs. Esmelda afterwards and taken to the dormitories where the girls slept in shared rooms. The receptionist Garrick and I first met informed the Madame that only two rooms had any free bed spaces. After letting her know which, she was dismissed and Mrs. Esmelda took me back through to the hallways, stopping at one of the doors. She didn’t bother knocking, flinging it open, and striding in like she owned the place. She didn’t but even if she had, some courtesy would surely not be out of place. A small girl with dark brown hair jumped at our intrusion, knocking a bottle of ink off the table she sat at in the process. “Oh!” She exclaimed, scrambling to pick it up. She stood suddenly, knocking the chair with more force than necessary, and the weak, plastic thing toppled backward. “Mishka!” Mrs. Esmelda bellowed. “Sorry! Sorry!” She apologized profusely, dabbing at the ink on the table with a rag. After she was done, s
Feyre’s POVI spent the next day being waxed, scrubbed, oiled, and primed by three maids. I was naked for hours in a large spa-like room where I received what would ordinarily have felt like really nice pampering. Knowing why it was being done, I felt more like a chicken being fattened for slaughter. Or more specifically, an object being beautified for use. After they were done, I was smooth all over, all the hair on every part of my body aside from my head had long disappeared. My skin felt so soft and sensitive. I was slightly disturbed by it. I smelled differently too, not strange considering I’d practically been bathed in several perfumed oils. My nails were perfectly trimmed, the soles of my feet scrubbed till they were soft and pink. I felt like an entirely new being, on the outside at least. Inside, I was miserable. I waded out of the spa room in fluffy slippers and a kimono to see the maid who had escorted me over waiting impatiently. I was starting to learn, here at t
Feyre’s POVI stared at the rigid sex toy in front of me and blushed. All around me, girls were fiddling with theirs, practicing stroking and licking and the seemingly impossible task of putting those things down their throats. Judging by the large, flesh-colored organ on my own workbench, I was clearly expected to do the same thing. I could barely even look at it, much less touch it and make the same choking, gagging sounds the other girls were doing. I stared at my feet, willing the ground to open and give me respite from my embarrassment. The… sex instructor, for lack of a better description for the woman who asked us to do these things, glared at me. “Why aren’t you practicing girl?” I swallowed and stared down at the large, intimidating organ then back at her. “Pick it up.” She growled. I jumped. Many ears and certainly all eyes were on us. Mishka had explained how I didn’t want to attract punishment. From our handlers or instructors or clients or the king himself.