Mated To My Master's Beta

Ava's POV

Pain.

That’s the only word that even comes close to describing what I feel right now. Not just any pain—this is the kind that burns deep into your bones, the kind that makes your soul want to give up before your body does. My skin sizzles where the metal kissed it, leaving behind a trail of agony that threatens to drown me. I clamp my palm over my mouth, my body trembling as I force down the sob that claws its way up my throat.

I know better than to make a sound. Even a whimper means more punishment. Worse than this. Much worse.

He slammed it down hard on my back—searing, brutal. I swallowed the scream trying to rip free and used every ounce of energy to keep still. I don't know how long I can last. Maybe if I faint, it’ll stop. Maybe the darkness will be kinder than he is, even if it's just for a short while.

"Did I just hear you cry?" His voice exploded in the room like thunder, shaking every fragile part of me. My breath caught in my throat, and I shook my head quickly—desperately—my hand still covering my mouth. I didn’t dare speak. I didn’t dare breathe too loud.

"How many times have I told you to speak up? Don’t just shake your damn head at me! Now, be on all fours!'

My heart stopped for a second. I scrambled to obey, ignoring the way my knees cracked against the stone floor. The cold bit into my skin, but I didn’t flinch. My hands lay flat on the ground, the sting in my back pulsing with every breath I took. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. That pain—it was safer than his fists. Safer than his rage.

I’m here because I wasn’t fast enough. Because I wasn’t naked when he entered. Because I couldn’t strip fast enough for him to fuck his way through me. This was my punishment. A reminder that I didn’t belong to myself.

I heard the dagger drop to the floor and the ominous sound of his zipper following. My stomach twisted. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to shake, trying to prepare my body for what I knew was coming.

A knock came through the door. “Alpha, they are here,” came Ashlen’s voice, the head of the guards.

“Dammit!” Alpha Darien growled, frustrated. I heard the zip of his trousers again, and his heavy boots moved across the floor. “I’ll be right there!” he shouted, and Ashlen’s steps faded away.

"You’re lucky I have to go to this damn meeting," he snarled, his hand yanked my hair back so fiercely that my scalp lit on fire. I whimpered—but silently. Always silently.

“Otherwise, I’d remind you what happens when filth like you makes noise."

I gave a small nod. Not too fast. Not too slow. Just enough. Enough to say, I understand. I’ll behave. Please don’t hurt me anymore.

"Clean my chambers. If I see a single speck of dust, you’re sleeping with the hounds." He added letting go of my hair so harshly.

“Yes, Master,” I whisper, but he’s already gone. I stay still for a moment. Still as a statue. Then slowly, the tears slip down my cheeks. Quiet. Careful. Cowardly. That's what I am. That's who I've been ever since my stepmother sold me to this monster.

I used to have a life. A real one. A beautiful mansion tucked away at the edge of the city, far away from here, where the air was always fresh and my laughter meant something. My mother was warm, and my father kind. But she died when I was just ten. Everything changed after that.

My father remarried, and I—stupid, naïve—thought I’d gained a second mother. But all the sweet smiles she wore were masks. All the soft words, lies. When my father got sick, she didn’t grieve. She waited. And when he died, she made her move.

I overheard her one night, whispering into the phone: “She’s too much trouble… better off elsewhere.”

I should have known.

I was twelve when she made good on that threat. I went to bed like it was any normal night. I curled up in my bed, gazing at the moon. That was my ritual. My last moment of peace. I never expected that to be the last night I’d ever see that room.

When I woke up, everything smelled like wet fur and rot. The floor wasn’t wooden anymore. It was rough, stone-cold, and sticky in places. Chains rattled. My wrists ached. My head throbbed like it had been cracked open.

I was in a cage. Naked. Weak. Terrified. I cried. I screamed. I begged. But no one came.

Then I heard voices. Two guards—big, loud, cruel—talking just outside the cage like I wasn’t even there.

"She’s the new one, right?" one of them had asked, munching on something that crunched.

"Yeah. Human girl. Brought in last night."

"How old is she? Twelve?"

"Don’t matter. The Alpha likes 'em young. Said the woman who sold her even drugged her to make it easier."

"Woman?"

"Her stepmother or something. Said she was a brat and not her problem anymore. Took the money like it was a gift."

My heart collapsed in on itself. That was the moment I broke as the realization had hit me.

Not when they put a collar on me. Not when the Alpha branded his mark into my skin. Not when they stripped me of everything. No. It was when I realized I had been betrayed—sold—by the only person left in the world who should have protected me.

And since that day, I've belonged to HIM. To Alpha Darien.

He says I was made to serve. That it’s in my blood. That humans are filth beneath them—beneath his feet. Beneath his hands. Beneath his desire.

So I clean. I obey. I let him touch me when he wants. I smile when I need to. I cry only when the door is locked and the moonlight hides me. I don’t even cry out when he beats me. Not because it doesn’t hurt. But because crying only makes it worse. I should have gotten over the pain since it's been years but it only got more extreme by the years.

The door creaked open, and I jolted—panic coursing through my veins—only to find Mira and Lyra standing there. Relief flooded me so fast I nearly passed out. They were my only light in this hell. Identical twins, soft-spoken, always kind. Captured when werewolves raided their town. We looked about the same age. But they had it easier.

I really want to be like them. They did chores, ran errands. They weren’t beaten. Not like me. Never like me. And that made me admire them even more. I really want to be like all the other maids and slaves. I am the only one different. I am the only one used as a sex toy. The one who bleeds.

Why me?!

“Are you okay?” Lyra asked, her voice soft, her eyes already glistening with unshed tears as she knelt beside me.

I winced as they helped me sit up, pain exploding down my spine. “You guys should go,” I rasped, struggling to keep my voice even. “If the Alpha finds you here… he’ll punish you too.”

“We’re fine,” Mira said quickly, brushing hair from my face. “The meeting won’t end soon. He won’t be back for a while.”

I hesitated, then nodded weakly. “Let’s get you to your room. You need to wash up,” Lyra added, her voice gentle.

“Master said I should clean his room before he gets back,” I murmured.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it,” Lyra promised, already moving toward the closet.

I blinked at them. “Thank you… thank you so much.”

Lyra grabbed a blanket—one of the Alpha’s—and wrapped it around me. I wanted to protest, scared of what might happen if he noticed something missing, but then I realized…He probably wouldn’t even notice that a blanket was gone.

They helped me to my room and eased me into the bathroom. I didn’t say anything. Just gave them a grateful glance before they slipped out to clean his room.

I sank into the tub, letting the warmth surround me. My tears came again, and this time, I let them fall freely. It felt like I cried for hours. For every scar. For every lie. For every time I screamed and no one came.

When I finally dragged myself out of the water, I saw it...The balm.

It was sitting on my shelf again—wrapped neatly in that same transparent white nylon. New. Fresh. It was always there after I returned from his room.

At first, I thought it was Mira or Lyra. But they swore it wasn’t them.

Then…who?

I brushed the thought away. Probably just another slave who pities me. Maybe someone who still remembers what it feels like to care.

I picked it up and stared into the mirror, turning to apply it to my back. My hands couldn’t reach the worst of it, but I managed. It stung—sharp—but it helped. It always helped. It felt like it was made specially for me and it makes me heal faster.

I slipped on a loose gown and strolled to the kitchen, hoping for something—anything—to settle my hungry stomach when I heard some whispers in the kitchen.

The moment I walked in, Briane, one of the maids, rushed to me, her eyes wide with excitement. “I guess you’ll finally be free from Alpha Darien! He won’t have your time anymore!”

I blinked at her. “What…what do you mean?” I mumbled, pulling open the fridge and pretending to focus on its contents.

“You haven’t heard?” Rhea, another of the maid chimed in. I shook my head.

“Alpha Darien is getting married,” Briane said, almost singing.

I froze. My fingers clutched the fridge door mid-air. I turned to them slowly, heart thudding.

“What did you just say?” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“Master is getting married!”