Chapter 4

Reyna

"Get up, filth!" I was roused from my sleep with a heavy kick on the side of my hip. A cry escaped me as I rolled off the narrow bed and crashed onto the concrete floor.

"Pathetic." Another voice followed. I tried getting up on my feet as quickly as I could, still disoriented from my sleep. Two men stood looking at me, one with a scowl on his face, the other an indifferent expression, his thick arms folded across his chest.

"Look at you, sleeping as if you are the dungeon queen," the one scowling sneered, gesturing at me.

"More like the queen of mate murderers," the other responded, a sharp sing-song edge cutting through his voice. "Slave, the bell rang two minutes ago; why were you still sleeping?" Just as quickly, his previous sharp tone turned into a flat murmur.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Bell?" I asked, stealing alternative quick glances at them.

For a moment, neither man spoke, and then they both burst into laughter, with one of them stepping forward. "The bell that tells you when to wake up," he answered.

"Now move!" The other one ordered, and before I could react, he wrapped his hand around my bicep and steered me to the open cell door. We exited the dark, damp holding place to an isolated house a few meters from the dungeons. They pushed me inside, laughing out loud when I tripped and fell face-first in the foyer.

"Don't break her face." The voice of a woman sounded, followed by the sound of stilettos coming into contact with the floor. "It needs to be intact for our alpha king to break it himself." My body temperature dropped instantly.

"On your feet," the woman ordered, nudging my fingers on the floor with her shoes. I pushed myself to my feet, blinking rapidly against the sting in my eyes. Curiosity had me lifting my eyes to look at her. She was a middle aged woman, dressed in a black and white dress, with a white apron tied around her neck. She wore stockings beneath the knee-high dress, her hair was tied in a neat low bun, and her lips were adorned with a bright orange lipstick.

"Mmh, so this is her," she stated, her eyes looking past my shoulder, to the guards who stood behind me.

"Oh yes," one of them answered.

The woman sighed. "She's more beautiful than the ones I have trained before, even with the bruise on her face."

"She seems like she is sweeter too." I pressed my lips together at the insinuation of one the men.

"Let not King Zion hear you speak of such; she belongs to him. Now get out." The woman instructed, silence filling the space after the two men walked out.

I stood unmoving as she circled me slowly, with my heart racing. I had not forgotten the training Clark had talked about before I was thrown into the dungeons the day before.

"Name?" she asked, finally standing in front of me.

I swallowed first, my throat feeling dry. "Reyna," I whispered.

"This is the last time you will identify yourself with your name," she said.

"What?" I asked, blinking rapidly, wondering what she meant.

"Slaves do not have names." She paused. "In this palace, your name means nothing; you are nothing but the king's property and property gets discarded if it is of no value," she explained, her tone of voice tightening. Something twisted painfully in my chest. For twenty two years I had been Reyna; now I was just a possession.

"Now, follow me." I limped after her, each step driving the reality deeper into my chest. We came to a large bedroom, where two girls stood with their heads bowed. The first thing I noticed was four wrapped dildos, placed on the table in front of them. The next was their dressing, two mid thigh pure white dresses. 

"Welcome, Madam Agnes," they said uniformly, hands clasped together behind their backs.

"These are servants in the palace, a level above you," Agness started. "They will be assisting with the training."

I was ordered to stand in front of them and handed over one dildo. I unwrapped it with shaky hands as instructed. The next few minutes dragged by as I was trained on how to give a blowjob and how to deep throat. For several times the gag reflex was triggered, and I paid with a cane on my back each time.

By the time I could suppress the reflex, my jaw throbbed with an ache. Next came the posture training, with Agnes forcing me on the bed, manipulating my limbs into extreme, agonizing sex positions. She pulled my hips back and arched my spine to angles that had my muscles throbbing.

"Remember, you are here for the absolute pleasure of King Zion," Agnes said, pressing her cane against my inner thigh to force my legs wider. "Full blooded shewolves have left his bed unable to walk, with their throats raw from screaming. Their bodies heal fast, but you are wolfless, yours will not." The tip of her cane dug deeper. "You must learn to open up, to bend, or he will break you. Do you understand me?"

A cold shiver crawled down my back. "Y-es," I forced the word out.

"Good, I am training you so you do not die in his bed."

She went on and on, telling me that I was not allowed to speak unless given permission to. I was supposed to keep my eyes lowered at all times, keep my privates and armpits shaved, and oil the former anytime the king called for me.

"It's time for a bath," she said. The two young women escorted me to the bathroom. I thought I was going to clean myself in privacy until I was ordered to strip and get under the shower in their presence.

"She's not too dirty; I'm told she was cleaned well yesterday," Madam Agnes spoke, her gaze detached, nonchalant about my nakedness.

The two women cleaned me under the shower, then drew a warm bath for me with several herbs. After that, Madam Agness shaved me herself, taking more time on my pubes. All that time, my heart broke repeatedly, suddenly wishing to be back in my pack. No matter how much they tortured me, at least they never had to force me into nudeness.

By the time they were done, my skin tingled from being rubbed too much. I was given a long dress, with a matching set of red lingerie beneath. My hair was blowdried, and combed down on my back. "The alpha king loves his food covered, for his eyes alone." Madam Agness explained when I furrowed my brows together.

Then, her phone rang. The conversation did not last more than five seconds, and when she spoke, my stomach just sank. "The alpha king wants to see you."

She stepped forward, adjusted the sleeve of my dress, and then asked me to look at her. I could have sworn a flicker of uncertainty flashed in her eyes before she masked it with a tight smile. "Remember everything I taught you."

I was driven to the palace, escorted by Clark, who had come to pick me up. I could hear blood rushing to my ears in the quiet short drive, racing against my pulse. As I finally stood outside the oaken door, I realized that there was no going back. When Clark knocked, I swear a knot tightened in my belly.

"Enter." Came the deep alpha king's voice, its sheer power sending shivers down my spine.

"You can do this," Clark whispered, pushed the door open, and left me frozen at the entrance, my feet suddenly refusing to move. From where I stood, I glanced in quickly, spotting the alpha king behind a large desk, the mask still on his face, before quickly remembering to lower my eyes.

"You are keeping me waiting." At that, my feet finally propelled me forward, inside the room. As the door closed behind me, my entire body ran cold. I was trapped inside a room with the most feared man on earth, and when he stood, I almost peed on myself.

He walked slowly, circled me, and stood behind me. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder, the simple touch making my body warm up. It was light, not a bruising grip Agnes had warned me about. He pushed my strands down my shoulders and unfastened the clasp of my dress, making it pool on my feet. I was left in the lingerie, hands on my sides, with my palms sweating. I braced myself for his order to climb his desk or bend over. Instead, the warmth of his presence vanished.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice almost like a low rumble. Slowly, I lifted my face and looked into his green eyes. He stood feet away, his arms crossed on his chest.

"Did you kill him?" he asked, the question cutting across the room.

I blinked, completely thrown off balance. "Wh-what?" I stammered, my voice trembling.

"Your mate, did you murder him?" he clarified. Nobody asked me that in a whole year, not once, they just decided I did it.

"No," I choked on the word, a new wave of unexpected raw emotions flooding inside. Wasn't he supposed to just believe that I did it? Did my answer even matter to him?

Silence stretched between us, even as my eyes dropped back on the floor, I could still feel his gaze burning through me. Then he returned to his desk and sat down. "Leave," he said quietly.

I froze, completely stunned by the abrupt dismissal. "Do you want me to repeat myself?"

I didn't wait for him to speak for a third time. I picked up the dress and scrambled out into the hallway as fast as my trembling legs could carry me. One question, however, stood out: what the hell had just happened?