Chapter 2: The Meat for the Beast

The obsidian walls of the Citadel didn't just feel like a prison; they felt like a tomb.

He dragged her by the silver chains, the metal clinking rhythmically against the stone floor like a funeral march. Every guard they passed...men with eyes like glowing embers slammed their fists against their breastplates in a salute. They didn't look at Aria with pity. They looked at her as if she were a piece of discarded meat being brought to a wolf’s den.

"Silas, stop! You’re tearing....!" Aria gasped, her legs burning as she struggled to keep her footing on the jagged stone.

He didn't even turn his head. He jerked the chain with a sudden, violent force, sending her stumbling forward until her chest slammed into the iron-hard expanse of his back. He spun around, his hand snaking out to catch her by the hair, forcing her face up toward his.

The heat coming off him was unbearable. He smelled of smoke, cedar, and the metallic tang of an approaching storm.

"You do not speak my name, wolf," Silas hissed. His golden eyes were swirling with shadows, the pupils narrowed to lethal, vertical slits. "To you, I am your King. I am the man who bought your life to settle a debt. You are nothing but a battery for my dragon, a vessel for the blood I need to stay sane."

"Then let me go," Aria gritted out, her violet eyes burning with a defiance that made Silas’s grip tighten. "If I’m so beneath you, why keep me in your palace?"

Silas’s face contorted into a mask of pure, aristocratic scorn. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice a lethal vibration.

 "Because the gods have played a cruel joke. They’ve tied my soul to a scavenger. But don't mistake a bond for a blessing. I will use you, I will bleed you, and when I am done, I will discard you like the trash you are."

He shoved her away with enough force to send her sprawling onto the cold floor of a circular, tower-like chamber. It wasn't a bedroom; it was a kennel. The windows were barred with enchanted iron, and the floor was covered in rough furs that smelled of damp and dust.

With a flick of his wrist, Silas snapped the other end of her chain into a heavy ring bolted to the floor. The clink of the lock sounded final.

"Stay here, mutt," Silas commanded, looking down at her with absolute coldness. "If you touch that door, the guards have orders to take your fingers. I will return at midnight for the first feeding. Try to look at least somewhat appetizing."

He walked out, the massive obsidian door slamming shut with a boom that echoed in the silence.

Aria sank to the furs, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her wrists were raw and bleeding, and her heart felt like a trapped bird beating against her ribs. She was a fated mate to a monster. And the monster hated her.

Hours passed in a blur of pain. The temperature in the room plummeted as the sun set, the desert air turning ice-cold. Aria huddled in a ball, trying to preserve her warmth, when a faint scratching sound came from the corner of the room.

A small panel in the wall...too small for a man, slid open. A girl with silver-dusted skin and wide, frightened eyes peered out. It was Lyra, the lowest-ranking servant in the kitchen.

"Shh," Lyra whispered, sliding a small bowl of watery broth toward Aria.

 "Eat quickly. If the Commander finds me here, he’ll have me whipped."

Aria's brows furrowed in confusion "Why help me?" Aria whispered.

"Because the palace is whispering," Lyra said, her voice trembling. "They say the King brought a wolf into his bed. The High Council is furious. They’re already planning to 'test' you in the pit to see if your blood is even worth the King's time."

Aria’s blood ran cold. "The pit?"

"A trial of endurance," Lyra whispered. "Most don't survive the first ten minutes."

Before Aria could ask more, the heavy bolts of the door shrieked. Lyra vanished into the wall just as the door was ripped open.

Silas stood there, but he looked different. His skin was flushed, and a thick, black smoke curled from his nostrils. The Dragon-Madness was hitting him, a feral hunger that stripped away his humanity.

He lunged across the room, the silver chain around Aria's wrist jerking her toward him. He pinned her to the furs, his weight crushing the air from her lungs. He didn't look at her with love or recognition; he looked at her throat with the hunger of a starving beast.

"Blood," he growled, his voice a distorted, demonic roar.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck. He didn't use a knife. He used his teeth.

Aria screamed as he bit down, the sharp pain radiating through her entire body. He wasn't gentle. He drank with a desperate, violent urgency, his hands bruising her shoulders as he held her down. She felt her strength fading, the world spinning as he drained her.

But just as she thought she might lose consciousness, a loud, metallic thud echoed from the hallway.

"King Silas!" a booming voice commanded.

Silas pulled away from Aria’s neck, his mouth smeared with her crimson blood. He looked toward the door, his eyes glowing white with fury.

Commander Kaelen stood at the entrance, his face grim. "The High Council has arrived. They demand to see the 'Omega' immediately. They believe she is a spy sent by the North to poison you, and they’ve brought the Executioner's Stone."

Silas wiped the blood from his lips, looking down at the pale, shaking Aria with total indifference.

"Take her," Silas said, standing up and stepping over her as if she were a piece of litter. "If she survives the Council’s interrogation, bring her back. If she dies... throw the carcass to the hounds."

Aria looked up in horror as two massive guards grabbed her by the arms, dragging her toward the Council chambers where the scent of burning iron already filled the air.