CHAPTER 6: SINFUL LINGERIE

SORAYA’S POV

Horror strikes my features as the rest of the girls jump and squeal. Panic washes over me as my feet subconsciously take a step back.

Just what kind of hell is this? I don’t belong here. How the hell do I get out of here?

Slowly, I turned to check if escape was possible at this very moment.

But the guards standing by the door with heavily loaded weapons were more than enough of an answer.

“Please come with me. It is time you all prepare,” Rodrick announced, turning his back on us to lead us further into the mansion.

The girls happily followed him while I trudged grumpily behind them. I tried to distract myself by looking at the artistic portraits of different men and women.

The little chandeliers hoisted above the wide, white-walled hallways lit up the way.

We passed by several servants in maid uniforms, along with a couple of guards. I did not fail to catch the judgmental looks they shot us—especially me. How strange.

Mini statues lined the way, until little by little they were replaced by vases filled with all kinds of flowers.

Finally, we came upon double doors that were also guarded by armed men. It was at that moment I realized escaping was going to be a lot harder than I anticipated.

This place was swarming with guards. The security in Khai’s mansion was much tighter and tougher than Ragnar’s. That was going to pose a serious problem.

The guards opened the doors for us, and a series of gasps was heard. Behind those doors was a harem of women.

At the center of the grand hall was a fountain with flower petals floating on the crystal waters. At the edge of the fountain, women were seated, giggling and playing with each other’s hair.

The women in the harem looked a bit older than us, probably in their early thirties. Their eyes fell on us, and the devious smirk they shot us was not comforting at all.

As we passed by them, I could’ve sworn I heard one of them mutter, “This year’s feast is definitely going to be an interesting one.”

I don’t even want to know what that means.

Rodrick led us into another section of the harem. A large room filled with bathtubs of steaming hot water came into view.

Six women, each lined up with towels and other bathing essentials, stood beside the tubs.

Rodrick turned to us and said, “I will return in thirty minutes to take you to His Majesty. In the meantime, please make sure to get yourselves as cleaned up as possible. There is nothing the Alpha hates more than a filthy woman.”

The girls nodded eagerly, like they were taking mental notes of every word that left Rodrick’s mouth.

Once he was out of sight, the girls shed their clothes and got into their various tubs with the aid of the handmaidens.

The last one looked at me with kind, encouraging eyes, urging me to come forward. Letting out a sigh, I muttered a series of curses before taking off my top and getting into the tub.

The warm water hit my skin, and I couldn’t stop the moan from leaving my lips as I slowly submerged myself.

My muscles relaxed, and the urge to drown myself in the tub came—not in a suicidal way, but in that aching, desperate way where I just wanted to sink deep enough to forget.

To scrub off everything—every hand that touched me tonight, every pair of eyes that looked at me like I was meat.

But no amount of soap or hot water could burn off what Ragnar did.

The way he looked at me when he said he didn’t love me—like I was nothing. Just a stand-in. A placeholder for her. That strange woman who looked like me. The one he clearly never stopped wanting.

I was never anything more than a substitute to him. A convenient lie.

I didn’t even say goodbye to my father.

I’d never imagined being separated from Ragnar like this. Even when I rejected him, I never truly thought I’d lose him.

A part of me had truly believed he was my eternity. My prince charming.

The mate bond still ached in the corners of my soul, like a wound that refused to close—but the sting had gone numb. Dull.

Because deep down, I knew he was never my fated mate. Just a cruel detour that ruined me.

The handmaiden began her work by applying shampoo and conditioner to my hair.

The sweet scent of roses and vanilla filled my nostrils as she aided me, handing me the showering gel and sponge I used to scrub all the dirt off my body.

Once I was done, I was handed a red lace lingerie set that would do little to nothing to shield the private parts of my body.

The fabric was sheer, delicate, and unapologetically sinful—clinging to my curves like it had been stitched with seduction in mind.

It hugged my hips, barely covered my breasts, and left nothing to the imagination. I looked like a fantasy dressed to tempt amd seduce.

“Can I at least get a robe or something?” I asked the handmaiden, and she shook her head no.

I put the lingerie on, and the handmaiden helped me dry and brush my hair.

I watched as the other girls danced and posed joyfully in their lingerie. Their enthusiasm was something I wished I possessed—and at the same time, didn’t.

As promised, Rodrick returned thirty minutes later. He led us out of the harem and down the winding halls, until finally stopping before a door almost as big as the entrance.

Rodrick turned to us and said, “This is where I will leave you, ladies. I wish you all good luck.” He bowed as a courtesy and headed down the hall. But I could’ve sworn I heard him mutter, “You’re going to need it.”

Just what kind of monster was waiting on the other side of that door?