The Beast’s weakness

JULIETTE

It should not have bothered me this much. I should have ignored it, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

“Night lessons,” Darius called it. It was absurd. An Alpha walking into the room of his so-called slave. . .me. . . just to ask questions about the books he ordered me to read.

Still, I pushed aside the documentaries on Kianka and looked at the ones he had recently given me. I did not know where to begin, so I flipped through their contents. There were five books in total. They covered court politics, pack histories, diplomatic decisions, and other matters that carried weight I was not supposed to touch.

After a long moment of hesitation, I chose the book on court politics. I forced myself to focus, line after line, letting the information sink in.

Knowledge like this was never meant for someone like me. Not for a slave, not just for an Omega.

I turned page after page, moving from my bed to the floor, and then pacing around the room when I could not sit still anymore.

Eventually, I settled by the window, still reading, overwhelmed by knowledge that belonged to diplomats and leaders, not to me. For a brief moment, I let myself imagine having the chance to speak my own thoughts, to argue against the laws written in these pages. I imagined showing that there were better solutions than endless wars and self-serving alliances.

By the time night fell, I had finished the book. I shut it firmly, closed my eyes, and rubbed my fingers against them, trying to ease the ache.

It was almost surprising I had not drifted off while reading. The only reason I stayed awake was because my mind would not stop running through arguments, debating every line as if I were in the council myself.

I opened my eyes, and my stomach growled, reminding me that I had gone without food all day.

“Great…” I muttered under my breath. The thought of going to the kitchen to get something made my stomach rumble even louder.

Patricia would never allow it. I knew that for sure. “The kitchen is closed,” I said in a mocking imitation of her voice and let out a scoff.

“Bitch,” I whispered bitterly.

Then came the knock I had been waiting for. I stood up to answer the door, hoping that this so-called night lesson would at least distract me from the hunger clawing at me.

I pulled the door open, ready to greet Darius, but the words stuck in my throat when I saw he was not alone. Patricia, the head maid, stood beside him, holding a platter.

My lips almost curved into a smile, but I bit the inside of my cheek to stop it.

I stepped aside, letting them in. Patricia placed the platter on my bed, bowed slightly, and left without a word.

Darius shut the door himself, then dropped onto my bed as if it belonged to him. “You have ten minutes,” he said flatly.

I moved quickly, almost desperate, grabbing the platter and settling on the other side of the bed.

In less than five minutes, I had finished the meal. My stomach finally stopped aching, and I felt stronger, less worn out.

“Were you watching me all day?” I asked, wiping the sauce from the corner of my mouth.

Darius crossed his arms and raised a brow. “I expected a thank you.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “Why? Because you managed to do the bare minimum and feed your slave?”

Darius slowly uncrossed his arms and shifted on the bed, as if he needed a better position just to process what I had said.

“Or am I no longer your most precious property—someone you treat however you want?” I pressed.

He did not answer. He just watched me in silence, as if my reaction entertained him.

Then he let out a short snicker. “You’re right. Now, let’s begin.”

For the next hour, he kept firing questions at me. Most of them I answered poorly, stumbling over myself. Others, I had strong arguments forming in my head, but the words refused to come out the way I wanted.

“Poor,” he remarked after my answer about the weakest form of alliances between packs.

“It does not change anything,” I said firmly. “I believe marriage is the weakest form of alliances. It is selfish and inconsiderate, and not all of it ends well.”

Darius scoffed. “The world is not pleasant and simple, Juliette. Marriage is not a weak link; it is one of the strongest, especially when an heir is born from both bloodlines. It is sacred and blessed by the goddess herself. Alliances made through marriage should never be broken. If they are, destruction follows both sides.”

“That is why you refuse to get married?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Darius shot up from the bed, his jaw tightening. “Keep your lousy mouth out of my personal business.”

“Oh, it is personal now?” I stood too, glaring at him. “You ruined my life. You forced me to become your slave. You dragged me into your business. So yes, maybe I have the right to know why the mighty, ruthless king is so afraid of marriage.”

“Juliette!” Darius roared a warning, and my heart skipped a beat. A small part of my resolve wavered, but I forced myself to keep a straight face.

His teeth were clenched as he stepped toward me. He grabbed my jaw in a hard grip and stared straight into my eyes. “You are nothing but a slave to me. You are beneath all of my possessions. You have no right to speak about my life.”

I winced as his grip tightened even more. Reaching up, I tried to push his hand off my face.

“You are like the dirt I step on. Remember that and stay within your limits.”

He let go of my jaw and shoved me aside. I staggered but managed not to fall, my hands instinctively moving to my aching face.

“Tomorrow, I expect good answers to the questions I will give you. If you fail me even slightly, I will have you punished.”

A lump formed in my throat at his words. Memories of past punishments flashed through my mind, and the thought of facing another one made my stomach turn. I already knew that this threat would keep me awake all night.

Darius turned and left, slamming the door behind him. The sharp sound made me flinch.

“Oh Goddess,” I whispered, letting myself drop onto the bed.