Married To My Husband’s Brother

Life In The Palace

Sophia's POV

"Is this what your cluster-fucked hands are good for? The King's room must be spotless. SPOTLESS you whore, goddammit!”

My lips hold back a wince as a long spikey whip cracks across my lower back. The head maid, a woman with a face as hard as stone and eyes filled with malice, stands over me.

"Useless animal." She spits, and I wince again, palms instinctively flying to my bruised back. I could feel the torn flesh, and the wetness of blood, a sign of her hardwork.

Nevertheless, this is my life now.

This is all it’s been for seven months, ever since my husband, the man I once thought I loved, sold me off, as one of the Lycan's countless slaves. Though, that was far more considerate than the position I bore here. At least, in most eyes.

Every day is a new form of torture. The physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional torment.

[Whore, bastard, slut]

The words follow me like a second name, clinging to my skin, I barely hear my name being called here, my true identity is now an imagination, even to me. The other servants, they look at me with disgust, some gossip behind cupped hands, their laughter only fuels the anger more. Though they don't believe I'm enough to whisper about, their laughter comes for something else.

A pregnant slut, I'm called.

They only see a pregnant woman, the one sold for money. The one carrying a bastard that isn't her husband's.

And they're right. The child isn't his.

I don't know who the father is. All I know is that it's a constant reminder of the choices I made. The decisions I took to escape the hell I was living in. A few months ago, a friend, bless her heart, told me about a way to make enough money to escape from my in-laws.

She told me of a man, someone she knew, who would pay well. “He's impotent.” She'd assured me. “So you'll be fine. Just a night, and you'll have enough money to start a new life.” I was desperate, pathetically desperate.

I didn't care about the risk, not with the way my husband and his family were bleeding me dry. The man was a stranger, but the amount of money he was willing to pay to get between my legs was my only ticket out. My way to freedom.

Now, freedom, was what got me into this.

The head maid shoves a bucket and a cloth into my hands. “Don't just stand there. Get to work. And don't miss a single speck of dust. The King abhors filth, and if he finds any, you'll be the one to pay for it. With your blood."

She gives me one last hateful glare before turning away, and I watch as she makes her way down the hall.

My heart pounds in my chest, this is the King's room. He's the one person I've tried to avoid since I was brought here. The Lycan King is my husband's brother. His name is Leonidas but no one is to call him by his name, not even his concubines are allowed such privilege.

He rarely leaves his study, and when he does, his presence is a physical torment. He looks at me, especially, with a type of undescribable hatred that makes my skin crawl. It's not the usual disgust I see in the eyes of the servants. It's something otherworldly, I've done nothing exactly to displease him, so naturally I can’t place my hand on the reason.

Nonetheless, I settle things with tagging him a bastard. The only explanation for such unnecessary hostility to someone whom he barely knew. Even though, by law, I was his sister-in-law.

I drag the heavy bucket up the stairs, each step a struggle. My swollen belly is heavy, round and a burden to my movement, but I love this baby more than anything, it is the only light in this evil world I live in. Although a regular reminder of my shame, but also the only thing that keeps me going. The child inside me, it's innocent, and I have to protect it.

When I reach the door, I hesitate. My hand glitches as I slowly push it open. The room is empty and completely silent, filled with a heavy, masculine scent, old books, and something.. something else. I can feel his presence everywhere, even though he's not here. The Lycan King always exudes this much energy, it was no shocker.

I start with the dusty shelves, wiping each book slowly. My back aches as I bend, and a sharp sting from being whipped mercilessly, goes through my lower belly. I bite down on my lip to stop whatever that threatens to escape. The work is endless, and my exhaustion, both physical and mentally, is crushing.

I don't know when it happens, but the next thing I know, I'm on the floor, the rag still clutched in my hand. My head rests on something soft. Just a few minutes, I tell myself. I just need a few minutes of rest. The Lycan Kiing isn't here. He won't know. I will be gone before he comes back which he rarely does.

But of course, this time, he does.

A low growl, like an eartquack rumbling the earth, instantly pulls me from my brief slumber. I jolt awake, my eyes flying open. I'm on the rug by the fireplace, and the King is standing over me, a dark tall frame against the fiery embers.

His eyes, two burning coals of gold, bore into mine. The usual hatred is there.

"What do we have here?" His voice is husky and dangerous, a predatory purr that always sends an uncomfortable shiver down my spine. "A brave slut resting on my floor. What makes you believe you're permitted to enter my room and make yourself at home, little whore?"

My heart leaps into my throat, choking off any response. My mind races, trying to find a lie, anything to save myself. I scramble to get up, my hands and knees clumsy from the exhaustion.

"Don't move." He commands.

I freeze, my head bowed, not daring to look at him. His is burning a hole through my head. I can feel his anger. I despise him, but he's terrifyingly frightening, my hatred involved or not.

He takes a step closer.

"You disgust me." He says. I've heard that countless times, from him especially. He despises everyone, it's evident from his hostile behavior. But why does he make mine, a mere pushover, evident?

"You and your bastard filth. To come here, to defile my home with your impure presence.." He trails off, and I can hear the sound of his ragged breaths.

I squeeze my eyes shut, a tear finally escaping and tracing a hot path down my cheek. The constant degradation makes me extremely exhausted.

"Look at me." He adds. I'm afraid to disobey, so I slowly lift my head, my gaze meeting his.

"Get up." He says. "I want to see what my brother sold me. The precious little whore he couldn't keep." He reaches out, his hand wrapping around my arm with a grip as strong as iron.

I gasp, a loud, terrified sound. I've heard countless gore stories. The Lycan King is not a man to be messed with. He is a monster, a beast in skin. Evidently his grip on me frightens me more than his face. My child.. I hope, nothing hap–

"What are you doing here?" He asks again, pulling me to my feet. "Waiting for me to give you a lesson? Evidently, you've come to the right place. I'll make sure you never forget who you are, or where you belong."

He yanks me closer, and I stumble against his chest, my swollen belly pressing against his lower abdomen. I can feel the hard wall of his body, the muscles held within. Enough to crack a human's skull if he pleases. I gasp at the thought, breath catching in my throat.

He looks down at me, but he doesn't look at my face. He's looking at my belly, and his disgust is evident.

"A bastard." He snarls. "A filthy bastard. Just like the mother."

Whatever it was wells in my eyes, blurring out his face. His words, nor anyone's, don't hurt me. The problem is me. I wish, sometimes, that I'd never willingly slept with a stranger.

He gives my arm one last hard squeeze before shoving me away. I fall back, landing with a soft thud on the rug.

He stands over me, his hands on his hips, and head tilted slightly to the side. "I told you not to come in here.”

A wicked smile tips his lips.

“Now you'll pay the price."