All Chapters of The Beast's Slave: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

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 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

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

River is running.She stumbles over numerous rocks and felled trees along her path, myriads of cuts form along her bare calves and forearms, one stray branch swipes along her cheek, drawing blood.She does not stop.The earth is dry beneath her feet. Frigid night air like razors slicing through her trachea and lungs with each pained inhale. She half-wonders if anyone would notice whether she had escaped. There were numerous slaves and the beasts treated them with indifference, her absence would hardly make a dent.Right?Then why is she frantically sprinting through the forest? Why is her heart slamming with a vicious intensity against her ribcage, rising her swelling throat and finally ears. She sees nothing but the twilight sky and dim dots of stars. There is no moon tonight. Her supposed final night of living.If tomorrow is the day we leave, what do we do with them?We discard them.Discard them. Hadrius h

Hadrius’ sigh of deflation is drowned out by the wails and shrieks of female slaves as they are cut down all around him.He moves in a manner of languid indifference, shifting from one side of his room to the next, picking his large silver sword and sheathing it against his waist.The room contains all materials he had gathered during their annual raid, from exotic cities to temples and churches. Each item of decor must have cost an insurmountable amount, yet it was all to be burned.He would return with nothing to the kingdom for no item held sentimental value.Such as the slaves.Beyond the walls he hears the dogged earnest steps of a woman trying to escape the vicious wolves. Her scream is cut off by the sudden lunge of one animal, canines sinking into her neck, ripping out her trachea with practiced ease.It was all too noisy.Had he had his own way, Hadrius would have commanded his men to kill them whilst they slept. The sw