Chapter 7

Cardan POV

She was trembling.

That pitiful sound she’d made… a whimper? A sob? A whisper? It echoed in my mind long after it left her lips. I stood still, deliberately behind her, watching the way her skin prickled in terror, the way she shuddered as my breath caressed the nape of her neck.

Delicious.

It had been a long, dull century. Centuries, actually. Wars had lost their thrill. Politics bored me. Even torture had become mechanical and predictable. Watching this trembling little thing bound to a chair, broken before I’d even touched her was entertainment.

She wasn’t just scared. She was fractured. And I enjoyed every second of it. I wondered what it would have taken to bring her down to this state.

The first time I saw her in that auction cage, I thought they were joking. An omega? This girl was an omega? Her scent had been buried beneath filth and fear, but I had smelled something else, something ancient but faint. Hidden under the layers of confusing scents around her. It intrigued me. And only a few things did. 

U intended to break her open until I found every last secret buried in her soul.

I circled around her slowly, watching as she winced and flinched from the sudden light, her wrists straining against the leather straps. Her eyes watered, lashes soaked with tears, mouth parted in a silent scream she couldn’t even voice.

Fascinating.

She tried to curl in on herself, but the ropes held her open like a gift. It was pitiful. Laughable. My weakest plaything yet.

But oh, how fun she would be to ruin completely.

I tilted my head, watching the pulse hammer beneath the thin skin of her throat. I could hear her heartbeat clearly, erratic, terrified, desperate. 

A slow smile curved my lips as I mindlinked the servants.

“Bring food. The girl looks hungry.”

The door creaked open and I didn’t take my eyes off her. I watched her entire body tense at the sound. She was trying not to shake. Trying to hold onto the last scraps of dignity she had. As if she had anything left to preserve.

Two servants entered, both lycans, silent and efficient. One carried a tray of warm meat, fruits, and a goblet of wine. The other set down a basin of water and a clean cloth, avoiding her eyes like she was too dirty to look at. 

She whimpered again as the scent of food reached her, her stomach betraying her with a low, pained growl. Her face crumpled with shame. That was the best part. The war inside her, the fight between pride and hunger, between numbness and survival.

I crossed the room with slow steps, deliberate and precise, each one echoing loudly in the stillness. Her breath hitched with every step.

I leaned in again, close enough to hear the strangled little inhale she made. My fingers reached out, not to touch, but to hover. Just inches from her face. She flinched anyway.

“Eat,” I said coldly, the first word I had spoken to her since the auction.

I saw her lips tremble. Her eyes flutter. She was waiting for permission?

“You’re not deaf,” I said, feeling suddenly irked. “Eat. Or you'll be forced to eat from the floor like a mutt.”

She jerked like I had struck her. But she moved. Slowly, awkwardly, like her limbs no longer belonged to her. The servants had cut the straps before I spoke, but her hands still trembled like they were bound.

I watched her reach for the food with broken grace.

I perched in the far corner of the room, watching her carefully. Every movement she made was a study in hesitation. She picked up a piece of meat with trembling fingers, her knuckles white from how tightly she held it. Like it might vanish if she wasn’t careful enough. Or maybe she thought I would snatch it from her. 

Her lips parted, slowly as she chewed in silence, each bite robotic and joyless, like she was ashamed to be hungry. But her body didn’t lie. That soft, broken thing inside her begged to survive.

From time to time, the scent of her fear would rise again, curling through the air like smoke. It was subtle… but intoxicating. A delicate blend of panic and pain, soaked into her skin like perfume.

My body responded before I gave it permission.

Ah. That was unexpected.

It had been years since anything stirred beneath my skin. Decades, maybe, since I felt that tight pull of desire without needing blood or dominance to provoke it. She wasn't even trying yet, she stirred something. How amusing.

I hoped she lasted long enough to understand what that meant. To understand what it meant to belong to me.

Eventually, she finished every last bite. Even drank the wine. Not because she wanted to, but because her body couldn’t afford to refuse it. That was good. A creature that still obeyed hunger could still be molded.

The tray was taken away, and the room cleaned. She sat still now, shoulders hunched, like a punished child waiting for the next blow. I rose slowly and moved back into the light.

She didn’t look up. Coward.

I stood before her, silent. Letting the weight of my presence sink into her skin. It took a full minute for her to lift her head, and when she did, her eyes were red-rimmed and hopeless. Beautiful.

“You’ve been bought,” I said flatly. “By me.”

She didn’t flinch this time and her expression didn’t change.

“You will address me as master,” I added, watching her mouth closely.

Still she gave no reaction.

“You are a slave now. My slave. Say it.”

She hesitated. I saw her jaw twitch then her lips parted. A whisper, hoarse and thin, slid out.

“…Yes, Master.”

Ah.

My groin tightened, hard and sharp. The sound of her defeat... it was divine. Weak, even to me. But gods, it thrilled something deep in the marrow of my bones.

I grinned. I couldn’t help it.

Her eyes widened slightly as she caught the grin. I leaned forward, resting a hand lightly on the back of her chair, just to feel her freeze again. I could have pressed harder, but no. No need. Her body had already become my favorite instrument, and I was only just beginning to play it.

“Rest,” I said smoothly. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Nodded once, slowly. Like she had accepted a death sentence.

Good girl.