Chapter Four

Ashlyn’s POV

I sat back on the couch and sighed. This darkness in him wasn’t truly his fault. It was the raging curse he had inherited from his father, controlling him from within.

Lightning had always been a sweet baby—until that night. The night he transformed after being kidnapped with his father and his sister, Amber.

When Lucifer first told me about Lightning’s transformation and how he saw that same red glow in his eyes, I couldn’t believe it. I went into his room to confirm for myself. Under the moonlight, as he cooed softly, his eyes opened, revealing crimson red. Fear consumed me. Lightning had Lucifer’s curse.

He was barely a year old when he began to show the curse and its abilities. Lucifer and I swore to protect him from it—and from himself, but we never succeeded.

Lucifer was a child born of the devil, but there had been no clause saying his children would inherit his curse. For years we searched for answers and ways to break it. All our efforts were futile.

The witches we sought for help could do nothing. All they kept telling us was that the curse could be transferred from one lineage to another. Still, Lucifer refused to give up. He vowed that as long as he lived, he would keep searching for answers and a cure

I, on the other hand, believed Lightning was like his father. He needed his mate to overcome the curse, just as I had helped his father. That was why, every mating season, I brought debutantes to him—women without mates, trained to please, because I had heard how he despised inexperience.

Every year, my plan to find him a mate and break the curse failed.

After that terrible night with his sister, Lightning left home, vowing never to return. He built an empire of his own, different from his father’s, but still had no mate to break his curse. The tales I heard about him frightened me, so I sent Roselia to be my eyes and ears.

I sighed again. Lucifer had told me to make sure Lightning found a mate this year. What would I tell him? And why couldn’t Lightning feel any mate bond at all? Was his curse somehow different from his father’s?

My thoughts spread across my mind like wildfire on a harmattan morning.

---

Raven’s POV

I walked behind Ronan, who muttered curses under his breath. He didn’t take the entrance the Alpha had used. Instead, he led me to the left wing of the pack house, where there was another door.

“Slaves are not allowed to walk through the front door. We don’t want our floors tainted by the stench of slaves and omegas,” he spat as we entered.

I was too lost in my thoughts to admire the interior.

When it came to these barbarians, I was only mildly afraid of most of them. My greatest fear was their Alpha, Chaos. He stirred feelings inside me I didn’t know existed. Perhaps it was because of the…

“Move, slave,” Ronan snapped.

I realized I had stopped halfway up the stairs and stumbled as I tried to keep up.

“I wonder what the Alpha sees in you that keeps him from letting other men take you,” Ronan muttered as we turned into a corridor.

I had no reply. Could he feel it too—the strange pull between us?

He knocked on a door, and it opened immediately. An elderly woman with a full crown of white hair stood there.

“Greetings, Grandmother,” Ronan said. “The Alpha asked me to bring this slave to you. The east wing should be prepared for her. She should be ready before nightfall.”

She smiled. “Inform the omega help to prepare the room.”

Ronan nodded and walked away.

“Come in, child,” she said, walking deeper into the room. I stepped inside hesitantly.

“Lightning is always bringing in new slaves. When will he get tired?” she sighed.

Lightning. That was his name. It sounded rich and dangerous.

She turned sharply to me. “But never has he asked me to prepare a room for one.”

I shifted on my toes. Should I be glad a monster like Lightning was giving me special treatment? My instincts told me it was for his own benefit. Once he was done with me, I’d be discarded, given to his warriors, or killed.

“This could be a good sign,” her expression softened. “What’s your name?”

“Raven.”

“I wasn’t expecting that for a ginger-haired woman.”

I shrugged. I didn’t know why my parents chose it.

“Come now. We have much to do,” she said, heading for the door. I followed.

---

While the room was being prepared, I sat in a bathtub as two omegas bathed me. From their expressions, I knew they resented giving a slave such treatment.

With Roselia watching, they dared not harm me. I had insisted I could bathe myself, but she refused.

For the first time since I became an omega, I felt truly clean. I couldn’t remember the last time I used scented oils.

Turning my back, I heard Roselia mutter, “So many scars.”

Shame prickled at me. These were scars from my pack—marks of the times I defended myself from their assaults.

One omega dug her nails into my back. I winced.

“I’m sorry,” she said, but it didn’t sound genuine.

“That’s enough,” Roselia ordered.

I rinsed off and got out of the tub.

I was dressed in a rusty green dress that brought out the color of my eyes. Roselia smiled, clearly pleased. “I’ll send someone with your meal. I have to attend to the Alpha’s mother now.”

The Alpha’s mother? The brute had a mother and yet no respect for women? I was dumbfounded.

Roselia clapped her hands, signaling the helps to leave.

When the door shut behind them, I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. I didn’t know what to make of Roselia’s kindness. I had learned never to trust kindness.

I needed to stop overthinking. She was clearly following orders.

“I like her,” Misty, my wolf, said.

“You always like the wrong people,” I muttered.

I looked around the room. It was beautiful and far bigger than the shack I’d been staying in. I liked the colors on the wall. I was about to sit on the soft bed when the door slammed open.

I straightened as my heart skipped.

Standing there was a furious, beautiful woman with blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and striking features. She had the look of royalty.

She stepped in like she owned the room, and let out a bitter laugh. “When Zane told me the Alpha was giving special treatment to a slave,” she said, voice flat as a steel edge. “I expected competition. Not… this.” She took slow, deliberate steps, head tilted, inspecting me with a sneer. “Disgraceful. Filthy.”

Her hand hovered at her hip where a slim knife glinted under the light—more threat than ornament.

I hated women like her. She reminded me of Kira and Yara. Always ready to abuse their power.

I had no idea who she was, and I didn’t want to fall into a trap that would lead to my demise. I had promised myself I’d keep a low profile here.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” I asked instead of saying the sharp retort on my tongue.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m the Luna. The Alpha’s wife.”

What?! Misty screamed inside me as I stood there, speechless.