LOGINSome chains are made of iron, others are forged by fate. Edrian Lorne has never dreamed of freedom. Born a slave, trained to obey, and scarred by a master’s cruelty, he has learned one truth: hope is dangerous, but when war tears his world apart, he finds himself standing before the Crown Prince of DarkMoonCrest… and the impossible happened when their eyes met, and the mate bond roared to life. Prince Xander Veyrion has spent his life pursuing one thing, the throne. The bond to a slave is a threat to everything he has built, to every alliance he needs. Yet denying the pull between them proves harder than ruling a kingdom cursed to rot without a noble-born mate. In the shadows of court intrigue, deadly magic, and whispers of rebellion, the bond between Edrian and Xander burns hotter with each stolen glance and forbidden touch. But when betrayal strikes and a killing curse forces their hands, they must decide, cling to ambition and lose each other, or defy the kingdom and claim a love that could bring an empire to its knees. A slave with no hope. A prince with everything to lose. And a bond that could change the fate of a kingdom.
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This story contains mature themes, explicit sexual content, BDSM elements, violence, and scenes of power exchange. It is intended for adult readers (18+) only. Reader discretion is advised.
Edrian's POV
“Get up, slave. You’ve been chosen.” The guard kicked me in the belly.
"Ahhh," I screamed as the sharp pain hit me in my lower abdomen, dragging me out of the little sleep i was just getting.
My muscles were already aching from the hard labor of the day, from hauling crates, scrubbing floors, and taking lashes for another man's mistakes.
I didn't bother to ask who chose me because i already know who
A knot twisted low in my stomach.
“Tonight?” I asked, keeping my voice flat and emotionless.
"If you ask me that stupid question one more time, you will regret it," the guard said, almost whipping me with the lash in his hand.
I immediately shut up because, of course, i knew better than to ask such question.
I slowly stood up with fear in my chest. This was not the first time i had been summoned to warm the master's bed, but that doesn't make it easier because no slave has ever gone to the submission room and came back unscratched, it is always with bruised, scratches, i have heard that some slaves even died of the torture that goes on in the room.
I also have the scars under my clothes; they are healed on the surface, but the memories never healed. They're still fresh, like it just happened yesterday.
I dressed without a word, pulling on the thin linen trousers and shirt kept for occasions like this. The cloth was pressed against my damp skin, and smelled of soap and old fear.
The journey to the submission room was quiet except for the sound of the guard's booth and my thumping heart.
As we got closer to the west wing of the mansion, the section where the rest of the slaves avoided unless they were summoned, I kept my eyes down.
When we reached the doors, I raised my eyes. They were carved with curling patterns that seemed beautiful at first… until you realized they were wolves tearing into prey. One guard pushed them open, and heat and smell washed over me. It smelled like burning oils, sweat, and leather.
Immediately I stepped inside, i fought the urge to turn and start running because that would mean losing my life.
Half-shadows crept over furniture and walls in the low flickering torchlight. Weapons for pleasure and pain hung on the walls like hunting trophies, whips hanging coiled on hooks with their silver ends catching the light. When I saw the silver weapons, fear gripped me because of the pain it has caused me in the past. Wooden paddles blackened with age, metal cuffs fastened to the wall and ceiling, rods shiny like wicked promises, and more unidentifiable. The floor was sprinkled with furs in great dark layers, the sort which ate you up, the sort which deadened out sound.
At the center of the room, on a broad bed that was covered in blood-red silk, was the master.
He lounged with casual arrogance, his robe loose enough to show his bare chest, a chalice of wine in his hand, and a naked woman in black mask beside him. He had never had company. The woman's red lips curved into a wicked smile that I'm sure didn't reach her eyes if i could see them right now.
"Begin." My master's thick voice brought me back to reality.
My throat suddenly went tight, but I managed to move forward.
"Yes, master." I manage to croak out.
I understood what he meant, so i slowly moved my fingers around my skin and pulled the hem of my shirt over my head and dropped the shirt on the floor.
I am now standing with my bare chest, which earned me lustful glances from the master and the woman in the mask.
My hand wandered down, over my rib, then down to my belly until my fingers were just at the waist of my trousers. The woman cocked her head and stared at me like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. She licked her lips, and her hand slipped under my master's robe.
I slowly pulled off the trousers, and I am now standing bare butted naked with my cock still soft and dangling.
I slowly wrapped my fingers around it and started stroking it.
This isn't the first time I will be doing this in front of the master, but that doesn't make it less shameful. I couldn't hold his gaze, so I looked away.
And as I kept stroking, my body started responding, and my cock began to go hard. I picked up a bottle of lubricant and applied it for slippery movement.
My breathing became shallow as pleasure spread over my body. How do I explain that I do not enjoy this?.
Slow fake moans escaped my lips because I knew the master to enjoy the sound.
I continued stroking, and it became faster because I couldn't wait to get this over with, but the master wasn't having it.
"Go slowly and look me in the eye. If you tear your gaze from me again, you will lose your head," he threatened, and I did what I do best: Obey.
When I turned my gaze to the master, the naked woman was already down on her knees with the master's cock in her mouth. I watched as she moved up and down and slurped while I stroked myself slowly.
My body betrayed me as I feel myself become even harder by the sight in front of me, and I find myself actually enjoying this. I dare not tear my gaze away from the master as my slow stroking became faster again.
The master threw his head backwards in pleasure.
The room is filled with moans, mine, the woman and even the master's.
The ache built until it was almost unbearable. My legs trembled with the effort to hold still. I could feel the edge approaching, sharp and dizzying. I was going to cum and then...
BONG
The war bell split the air, the deep clang reverberating through the walls.
Another.
BONG.
My bones rattled to the sound.
Next thing, the master shot up to his feet, and his glass of wine fell with a clatter on the furs, splashing red wine everywhere. The woman gulped hard and crammed up.
"They are charging!” I heard a guard shout as he came up the hall.
"It's an ambush," another voice shouted.
The master didn't spare me a glance as he took bold steps towards the door in his robe, and the woman followed. They both left the room, leaving me butt naked.
I didn't know what to do as I stood rooted to the spot, still breathing heavily and still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the war bell is still ringing.
My adrenaline kicked in as I quickly packed my discarded wears. I pulled the shirt over my head and started moving towards the door, but I didn't even take three steps before something hard hit the back of my head. Pain exploded in my head, my knees became weak, and I fell to the ground.
The last thing my mind was wrapped around before darkness swallowed me was the fact that I wasn't given the opportunity to cum for the last time.
Kael's POVThe moonlight spilled through the wide arches of the council hall, silvering the cold marble beneath my boots. It was quiet… too quiet for a palace built on constant whispers and watchful eyes. I liked it this way because I’ve learnt that silence made men vulnerable, and silence let me weave my words like silk around their throats.And tonight, my target was Edrian.I found him where I knew he’d be, he was leaning against one of the high windows, shadows clutching his frame, his gaze was distant. He carried himself differently now. Not the slouched posture of a slave but the sharp, wary poise of someone who had finally glimpsed his worth. The silver streak in his wolf sang in him, whether he admitted it or not. And I… Kael, son of the second queen, heir by opportunity if not by birthright, intended to make him mine.“You look tired,” I said softly, stepping into his shadow. My voice was smooth, the kind that coaxed rather than commanded. “The weight of truths can drag even
(Edrian’s POV)The chamber felt too small.Every word Korran spoke pressed down on me until my lungs forgot how to breathe.Heir of House Deymira.Royal blood.The key to breaking the curse.The shouts of the council, the strike of the fist of the Alpha King on the table, the clamour of the nobles who insisted upon their answers, everything faded away to nothing... everything melted away to the sound of a hollow ringing in my ears. I could not even feel my legs walking until I was outside the room, the heavy doors closing behind me.The passage was long, interminable, and the torches were a streak of light as I swayed along. My heart was beating like a hammer, my throat flamed, and yet the words pursued me like wolves, not a slave... noble... royal...I leaned my back against the cold stone wall, my hands gnawing at my own chests as though they could excavate the truth before it could swallow me up.“Edrian...” Xander’s voice reached for me down the hall."Don't. Please." I jerked, an
Xander’s POVThe whispers had already spread like wildfire.By the third morning, even the kitchen servants had ceased to bow properly when I passed. They gazed long and wondered without saying anything."The heir to the throne was deprived of his right to the throne.""The throne will go to Kael."I had heard the rumors myself echoing through the courtyards, seeping through the stones of this palace like rot.. The nobles were acting civilized, though I could see the delighted looks on some of them, and the deceitful ones of others.And still, I did not care.Not enough to kneel in front of that council and grovel. Not enough to sit in chambers and argue with men who had already made their choice.I had chosen, too.Looking at Edrian, the set of his shoulders, the shadows beneath his eyes, his attempt to shoulder my decision as though it were his own, I was certain I would repeat the same a thousand times even if the kingdom burned.The argument with my father had been brutal, all ste
Amber's POVRidiculous.Impossible.Insulting.I could still hear the healers’ words echoing in the hall as if they had carved themselves into my skull: “A mate mark from an Alpha can override the killing spell.”That boy...no, that slave should have died the very night I wove my spell. The magic was flawless and absolute. It should have drained him dry before Xander even reached the healer’s chamber, but Edrian lingered. Lingering was not possible. Lingering meant his wolf had been stubborn enough to hold the thread of life until...I dug my nails into the arm of my chair, blood welling beneath my painted nails.Until they found the loophole. Until Xander made the choice no prince in history had ever dared.He marked him.I could hardly breathe when I first heard it the rumour. My goblet slipped, crimson wine splattering across my gown, and still I sat frozen, numb, waiting for someone to laugh, to correct the mistake, to tell me this was a fucking joke.But no one laughed.The whisp
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