Of All The Odds....

"Kill him." "Cut him up." "Yes! Tear him apart." "Get up from the fucking floor, Jonah." "Oh, he's so dead." "He won't be able to walk properly after this." "Does he have any tooth left?" "Off with his head!" "Get him, Marcus!" "Stop hitting like a fucking baby, you pussy." "Break all his bones. Whoo!"

A million agitated voices echoed through the wide wrestling arena witnessing the biggest pack fight of the year.

Several hundred werewolves from the kingdom of Adivaine and all other neighboring kingdoms gathered here every year on the night the moon shines brightest in honor of The Wolf Spirit.

We come together to watch the most savage and ruthlessly vicious werewolves wrestle to the death for fame.

Demons, vampires and witches alike were also in attendance but for more sinister reasons.

Everyone except the Lycan King attended these events. He never showed his face in public.

I once eavesdropped on two women gossiping in hushed tones at the fruit market,

"The last time the Lycan King, our very own Alpha Zane, came for this event every werewolf he passed by died that week and it rained so heavily that the match was canceled and everyone rushed home freezing wet."

The other woman's voice harshly whispered, "I think he's -" she looked over her shoulders like she was expecting the King to spring up from somewhere behind her " - cursed."

"Shut up. Do you want me to report you for treason? Let's leave this topic."

It was a popular rumour in the kingdom of Adivaine that the Lycan King of this city was cursed. Some even said that he was dead long ago and that the person sitting on the throne as the Lycan Alpha King was an abomination created by witches and warlocks.

These stories were whispered in corners and alleys, used to scare children from roaming about, sung drunkenly in pubs by miserable old deltas and muttered in midnight tales over a bonfire.

But no one dared to say these things aloud except they wanted to be meat for vultures.

This year was our Alpha, Alpha Pytor's turn to host the competition so he assigned Father, the most capable Beta of our pack and his trusted right hand man with the task of putting everything into place.

Logan sneered behind me, "Stop moping around, devil's bitch. The Lycans will not serve themselves."

He slapped my ass and walked away.

I was enduring being on my aching feet, waiting on tables and being sexually harassed while running from this Alpha to that Omega, making sure they're never out of alcohol.

If that is "moping around" then the rest of this fucking audience are in comas.

"Psst. The Lycans. Now!" Logan whispered harshly from behind me.

I spied Father at the betting tables hoping he hadn't noticed that I had been too busy serving the drunk werewolves that I ignored the Lycans. Gratefully, he was doing the one thing he was excellently good at - gambling- so he didn't notice me. 

I could barely afford to get Logan angry but Father? The punishment would be worse than death.

I rushed over to get sufficient alcohol for the members of the royal court. The feared Lycans.

I walked with my head bowed as I served them one after the other.

"Look at me." A slow, calm voice washed over me in a cool wave.

Cautiously, I fearfully raised my head up and looked everywhere but his face directly.

"Look. At. Me."

And so I did. As I did so, it felt as if someone poured ice-cold water through my insides.

Beta Darius the Lycan, the King's right hand, captain of the King's guard and his second-in-command.

The Beta Darius.

It felt like I had been standing there for an eternity as his dark eyes bored into mine. Only the Lycan King looks directly into his eyes.

No one else dared to look into his eyes except they had a death wish. I had a strange feeling and struggled to find a word for how exactly I felt at that moment.

He stretched forth a long slender hand to touch my hair, "What are you?" 

I knew what he meant.

I had snow-white, almost silver hair, pale skin and my eyes were such a clear crystal blue you could see yourself in them. I looked very much different from any other werewolf in the kingdom.

I looked like a witch.

That's why I was an outcast, even in my pack.

"I am –"

He interjected, "I want you. Who's your father?"

Irritated

That's the feeling. I felt deeply irritated. I instinctively knew that I never wanted to be even a thousand miles close to him.

"Find out who her father is. Right now." He ordered a guard beside him and he scampered off.

In no time, he was back, "Beta Derek, your highness."

Beta Darius rose up in his full height and my heart began to beat crazily in my chest.

"I have an announcement." He motioned to the same guard as before, "Quiet the crowd and pause the match. Also, let her father know that I summoned him."

The guard howled long and loud and immediately, silence engulfed the entire arena and the werewolves savages in the ring stopped tearing at themselves.

My father hurried over to meet Beta Darius who had stepped down from the elevated platform where he and the other Lycans were seated and stood right next to me.

I squirmed when I felt all eyes on me.

"Everyone, on this legendary occasion I would like to do something equally legendary."

Murmurs rose up in the crowd.

He began to circle Father slowly like a predator, "Beta Derek, is it?"

"I would place a bet on the outcome of this match and all of my fortune is yours if I don't win. But if I do, I want her." He gestured to me.

I stared rigidly at the floor thinking of a million vile, disgusting things he could possibly do to me.

"But, my Lord, she has not yet found her mate. Don't you th–"

"I DON'T CARE. All my mates die anyways, so it's a good thing she's not, no?" He roared at Father and he shrank back a little.

"I'm sorry your highness."

"Object one more time and I'll have your head on a spike this instant." He threatened.

Where the king was not around, Beta Darius was king and his word was law.

"I pick that one." He pointed at one of the werewolf fighters. "Now, let the games begin."

I looked up in horror. I'm so dead.