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 POV)The cold here is different.It doesn’t bite like mountain frost or creep like palace stone. It seeps. It crawls under skin and settles in the bones, a reminder that nothing here was built for comfort or mercy.Rogue lands.They call it freedom, but I call it rot.I sit near a dying fire, its was flames weak, but its smoke was stinging my eyes. Around me, wolves linger in the half-dark…scarred, feral, and they’re watching me with the same suspicion they reserve for prey that might still bite back. They know who I was, but they don’t care.A fallen prince is still a body that bleeds.The crown is gone, the palace is gone, even my name feels thinner here, it has been stripped of the weight it once carried. Kael of DarkMoonCrest. Heir apparent.Exile tastes like ash.They took everything from me.No…. he did.Xander.Golden heir, beloved king, chosen by the abyssal throne and Moon and fate itself. He always had the things that mattered handed to him on a platter…loyalty, rev
(Edrian’s POV) The palace was finally quiet. Not the wary quiet of plotting corridors or the brittle silence of fear, but a deep, settled stillness, like the kingdom itself had exhaled and decided to rest. Xander closed the doors to our chambers. No expectations waiting on the other side of stone and steel. Just us. For a moment, we stood there, facing each other in the low glow of lamplight, the weight of everything we had survived hanging between us. King. Consort. Mate. Equal. The words still felt unreal on my tongue. “You don’t have to be strong tonight,” Xander said quietly, as if reading the way my shoulders remained too tense. “Not for me or ever.” Something in my chest cracked at that, not painfully, but like ice giving way to water. “I don’t know how to stop,” I admitted. “Every time things are quiet, I keep waiting for someone to come take it all away.” He crossed the space between us and rested his forehead against mine. His breath was warm. “They won’t,” he s
(Edrian’s POV)The first law Xander signed was written in ink the color of fresh earth.I stood beside him in the council chamber, the table scarred with centuries of fists and blades, and watched his hand move steadily across the parchment.“All bonds of enslavement within DarkMoonCrest are dissolved.”The words seemed to glow when the seal pressed down and for a heartbeat, it seems everyone held their breath, then the room exhaled at the same timeSome of the nobles stiffened, those whose wealth had been built on backs and broken wills but none dared speak. Not with Xander seated at the head of the table, even the Abyssal Throne was quiet behind him, its hunger was gone.“Effective immediately,” Xander said, his voice calm but strong. “Those who resist will answer to me.”A murmur rippled through the chamber, I’m not sure if it’s fear, anger, relief, or hope, maybe all tangled together.I felt it like a tide in my chest.Afterward, when the hall emptied and the doors closed, Xander
Edrian’s POVThe Abyssal Throne did not roar, it breathed life.I felt it before I saw it...I felt it before the doors were thrown open and the court gathered in a half-circle that dared not step too close. The air in the throne chamber had always been wrong, thick with a hunger that crawled under the skin. I had felt it the first time I was dragged across this floor in chains, felt it when the Alpha kings sat upon it and slowly unraveled.Today, the air was… different.The throne stood at the center, obsidian-black, veined with veins that once pulsed like a living thing. Now, as Xander approached it, those veins dulled. The low, predatory hum that had lived in the stones faded into a deep, settling quiet, like a beast finally laying its head down.I swallowed hard.Xander didn’t look back at me. He didn’t need to. The bond between us was a living thread, warm and steady, anchoring me even as the weight of the room pressed in.When he sat, the throne accepted him. Not with pain, not w
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