All Chapters of A Daughter’s Revenge: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

I’ve never seen this place before. The mist is so heavy, I can barely make out the outline of the trees ahead. My feet crunch fallen leaves and twigs as I run through the forest. My dress is long. The material is diaphanous, a gauzy gold that shimmers as it moves and catches the light. I can hear the pounding of hooves on the ground, a roar in the distance. I’m not clear on if I’m running towards them or away, as the sound seems to echo around me. My wrists are cluttered with stacks of golden bangles, clanking in the rhythm of my stride, a beautiful song with a frantic beat. “Asteria! Asteria!” I hear a name called in the distance. “Hurry!” The thuds of approaching horsemen is deafening, they will surely discover me even under the cover of thick mist and forest. A small hollowed log rests against a tall tree. I decide to crawl into the hiding space to see if the horsemen approach. “I can smell her.” A man says somewhere near. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” He calls om

The sun rose too soon for my weary body. What little sleep I got was restless. My mind racing my body fighting against the sleep. My mind a mush of magical academia. It’s taken my whole life for me to understand what it means to be werewolf. What my role and expectations are. I’m not sure how I can just accept and begin to be a witch. I do not even understand the expectations within that society. I cannot navigate it. I am both a witch and a werewolf. I am also neither, entirely. I dress slowly. I have no desire to eat whatever slop is being served for breakfast, but I know I must in order to get through the day. It’s my moon ceremony. My whole life, I’ve waited for this moment. I have dreamt about it. I have yearned to find my mate. To fully become a wolf. To accept a pack and a mate. To run through the fields, my paws pounding on the dirt or in the cool grass. My mate running alongside me. I’ve waited seven years for this day to come so that I can escape the Alpha Osiris estate.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My crown of braided hair is intricately weaved and neatly pinned into an elegant updo. My hair is my glory. Many slaves have been forced to shear their hair closely; some for practicality others on the whims of their masters. I have always kept mine neatly coiled, hidden away from others and their envy. I pine to pin the cathedral length veil in my hair— Oh the drama of it! The last seven years spent hiding away ended with a dramatic entrance with an artisan’s stitch work so delicately laid trailing behind me for the length of a man. I must instead settle for the decidedly more modest floor length veil I had originally stitched for myself. Small daffodils, marigolds, and peach blossoms carefully embroidered around the edges. I smooth my gown and take it in. The dress itself is simple in design. Perfectly tailored to my body, the scoop neck basque waist dress accentuates my slender curves. My décolletage on display, my unmarked neck a siren so

“Mate.” The low voice growls, the bass tone vibrates my body, compelling me to surrender. “Mate.” The word leaves my lips as a whisper on the wind. So quiet but full of intention. Breathy and wanton. Theia joyfully surges forward. It’s as if time stops. The crowd around me fades as I focus only on the specimen before me. Fresh rain on Evergreens and lemon thyme. The scent is familiar and intoxicating. “Everything belongs to me, little she-wolf, even you.” He whispers in my ear, his body painfully close to me. My knees feel weak. Just being in his presence is overwhelming. I can feel eyes burning into me. Hushed whispers buzzing around me. His fingers trace my collarbone and shamelessly dip between my breasts. Our heartbeats are synchronized, beating as one, as if our rhythm has always been in tune. “Prince Edward of Fives.” I say breathlessly. “I’m not sure I know your name.” He says in return. “Ceres, your highness.” I respond. “Sons and Daughters of Selene!” The Rev

“The priestesses will decide if you are worthy.” He says after a long moment of silence. “What?” I say, unclear what he means. His juices leaking like a river from my backside, my body too sore and battered to move. “The Immaculate Mother must accept you as my mate.” He says dryly. “You must pass the exams.” “Didn’t you just—- accept me?” I question feeling completely vulnerable and exposed. “No.” He laughs. “I just took you. I made sure not to seed your womb, so if you are forced to become a priestess or choose to die; at least I was able to taste you once and there are no complications.” His words disgust me. Instead of content and satisfied, I feel used and soiled. I feel Theia’s heartbreak as she whimpers and crawls into the darker corners of my mind. “I don’t understand.” I whisper. “Look, it isn’t personal. I’m destined to be King. I can’t just mate anyone.” He explains. His tone sterile, like he was reading from an encyclopedia. “I had a feeling this match was going