All Chapters of The Beast's Slave: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Great and extraordinarily enormous dark clouds rage across the grey sky bringing along a great source of distress, unrest and wretchedness.“Sumaya!” River’s voice is merely drowned out by the wind that howls at an extremely high pitch. It slews across her numbing face, pinching her cheeks an uncanny red and surfaces tears along her lower lids.She squints hard against the grey storm that threatens anything in its undefined route. The forest before her is a must swallowed white, branches creaking and snapping with the lightning fast snow ascending towards the earth.“Sumaya!”The cabin creaks and groans, teetering dangerously as catastrophic gusts billow past her; hard, strong and extremely cold missiles from the sky freezing the entirety of the world before her.She raises a hand to block the hail that drenches her face, and squints indecisively at the snowed path before her.Sumaya’s prints had been swal

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

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

“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

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