Chapter 3

Reyna

"I..." The rest of the answer got stuck in my tightening throat. Who was I anymore? I whispered to myself. I wasn't Reyna of the Blessed Crescent pack or Randolf's mate and certainly not even a wolf anymore. A slave accused of murder, perhaps, tied to a chair, exposed before the most powerful man in the werewolf world.

"I ask once, then act." The way he spoke the words had my mouth opening even before my brain thought about what I was supposed to answer.

"I don't know," I muttered hurriedly, gasping the moment the words left my mouth. Oh no, I didn't just say that to him! I thought and closed my eyes to avoid seeing his slap coming. Instead, what I heard was his voice, still low and controlled.

"Look at me." I opened my eyes, craned my neck further and looked into his and suddenly my bladder felt full. For seconds he held my gaze, while I struggled with my quickening intakes of breath. I could have sworn I saw his green eyes change colour into a dark red, but I blinked and the red wasn't there anymore. Maybe I had imagined it, I mean with what I had been through it was expected for my eyes to play tricks on me.

"You are—" A knock on the door stopped him mid-sentence.

He took a step back and answered without taking his eyes off me. "Enter." A man walked in, shorter than him but still tall and built. Something about his boots felt familiar, about his steps.

"Greetings my king. I see you have met your new slave," he spoke. That voice took me back to the auction. He was no doubt the man who had bought me, the man who had won the bid with such a huge amount of money and for what? A wolfless girl like me?

"She was still unconscious when I brought her in," he added. Was he the one who bathed me? Applied oil on me?

"Clark," the king called, turning to look at the man.

Clark bowed, his hands clasped on the front. "My king," he said.

"I told you I was no longer interested in slaves, no?" the king asked coolly, the tone of his voice never changing.

"Yes, please let me expla—" A raise of hand by the king had Clark stopping immediately.

"I do not want her." As the king pointed out, my brows furrowed. So he didn't ask me to be brought in. I felt a breath of relief leaving my chest, that is, until he added, "discard her."

"B-ut," Clark stuttered, the composure he possessed back in the auction breaking at that moment. "I bought her for six hundred million."

The king didn't even react at the mention of the amount. "Not my problem. You can have her for yourself." He walked towards a door, which I guessed led to the bathroom.

"She is wolfless," Clark stated urgently.

"And so was the previous slave and the ones before that." I frowned at the king's words. "It has been years of searching. Alma was wrong, and I have made peace with that." He placed his hand on the doorknob. I didn't fail to catch the stress he put on the name "Alma" as he pronounced it, and that only raised my curiosity about who that was. "Make sure you make peace with it too," he finished, and just as he turned the knob, Clark spoke.

"She was convicted of killing her mate then staged the murder to look like suicide by hanging. They sold her today, the very same day the Wi—" Clark stopped mid-sentence, throwing a quick glance at me. Just like that, the king stopped and his back stiffened instantly.

"Are you sure of this?" The king asked, his hand still on the knob. I didn't know what to make of their exchange, but I certainly knew that there was no way he was going to let me live, especially not being told I was a murderer. I closed my eyes, and for a long time, relaxation came over me. The thought of dying and meeting my Randolf again had me welcoming the idea of death. It was better after all to leave the world than live in it as a slave.

"Yes, the slave merchants who sold her confirmed this." Clark's tone rose, like he was actually happy about it. "She must be the one."

A silence stretched in the room after that, with my ears only making out my breathing. "Lock her up in the dungeons." He opened the door but stopped. "And Clark?" He looked at Clark over his shoulder.

"Sir," Clark answered, his lips stretching into a smirk.

"Never bring anyone into my room without my permission." With that, he disappeared behind the door, leaving Clark jumping into the air. I watched as he shouted a series of "yes", wondering what exactly was happening. One minute I thought I was going to get killed and the next I was supposed to be taken to a dungeon.

"Come on," Clark beckoned, and when I didn't move, he face-palmed. "Oh, the restraints." He walked over and untied me, his eyes not wandering.

"First, you will get dressed, and then I will have someone bring you food," he explained, pulling me up on my feet. "Make sure you eat well, because you will need all the strength you can get."

I blinked at him. Was he really the same man who had commanded silence in the auction hall? "Then tomorrow, someone will train you on how to handle and endure the king, how to take him whole."

The words evolved quickly. "What do you mean?" I asked, blinking at him as I tried making sense of his words.

"Very few women can survive a night with the king, and you, my dear, must survive at all costs." My legs almost gave out, as his words sank in. "I bought you specifically for this reason, for the king's sexual pleasure."