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46
Sleep deserts the warlord as he lies in absolute darkness. It is not due to an excess of energy, for he is more than exhausted after the massacring of soldiers and hellhounds in Lycan form.
His body feels raw and rough, muscles aching from the sudden shift, wounds still gaping as his body’s recovery rate had declined significantly after undergoing the brutal sanction. It took all the strength he had to track his mate down, yet the warlord still could not bring himself to sleep.
To Hadrius, sleeping under the same roof as Cain was similar to being crucified beneath the glaring sun, having a crow torment at his peeling skin, picking at his flesh and innards.
It is painful.
Unbearably so.
And the emotion rips anger through the warlord. His first instinct was River, but now that she lies in deep slumber by his ribcage, partially drooling on his skin, Hadrius finds his mind edging towards Cain.
His brother had left the house around three ho
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The Beast's Slave 47
River sits on a bare rock, eyeing the warlord stalk up and down in a flurry of anger. His rage is hot enough to roll off him in thick, stinging waves that lick at the bare skin of her legs, which scrape against the rock under her. His skin is sleek with a dancing of blood, like that of the petals of poppies - both Cain’s and his. The outburst of violence had caught her off-guard and when she had turned, Cain’s neck was embedded with a knife. The injury, although maiming, had not deterred the brother from attacking Hadrius. In the end, Hadrius had decidedly picked her up from the corner of the room, where she had crouched to prevent being crushed, and tossed her over his shoulder before storming out of the house. Now she sits on a rock, still in his shirt, watching the Beta pace out his rage. The air is thin with tension as unspoken words and insults swell on his tongue and flex his jaw. Hadrius rakes a frustrated hand through his hair, only sm
The Beast's Slave 48
River stirs awake to the covers shifting above her. Vaguely, she feels Hadrius’ nose brush hers, his mouth a hair’s breadth away and slightly panting warmth against her own face. She scowls softly in her sleep only to falter at the faint sound of something stirring beneath the covers. His long powerful leg is thrown over her hips, subtly pulling her pelvis closer but not completely. Though they are not touching, his body radiates heat like a freshly lit brick oven, and something touches her belly a moment later. River opens one eye, only to lock with dark, heavy lidded ones that watch her. Her expression is that of sleepy bemusement. It is not until Hadrius presses a hot, open mouthed kiss to her lips that she realizes what is happening. Even with her brain still captured in sleep’s webs, she knows exactly what is occurring beneath the sheets. His teeth sink into her lower lip with a muffled, throaty growl as his hand pumps his cock beneath th
The Beast's Slave 49
River does not notice the incandescent look on Hadrius’ face; her gaze remains fixated on Cain. He watches his brother, then her, the same punishing smile unwavering on his mouth.Hadrius walks out of the room then, leaving only the two of them.Her mind is a pool of blankness.Cain had stripped Hadrius of his skin at that moment, and now she finally understood and saw him for what he was: a wounded, abandoned, rejected man. Betrayed by his blood and heart. A Lycan reduced to the ashes of a mortal man who was just as easily vulnerable.He could not give his mate a child, and for that, she sought out his brother as an alternative.“He should have told you from the start,” Cain declares, an idle drifting intonation to his words. “Deceit in a relationship is not a relationship to begin with, and if he claims you to be his chosen mate, you deserve the truth.”River stares, a feeling of numbness growing inside her, b
The Beast's Slave 50
Planning an invasion and possible war was a feat deserving of a few weeks’ worth of work, sometimes multiple months on end, at worst a year or two. Hadrius would know for he once led the Alpha’s army into battle, claiming territory, staking lives, leaving Novus’ blood mark on darkened hallways as a symbol of his seizure.The Shadow Pack’s claim.For three centuries, he had built the kingdom from the ashes to its final grace.And in three weeks, he would take it all back.Cain sighs beside him, drawing Hadrius’ attention from the innumerable maps sprawled out before them in the study room. The table is flanked with items: compasses, ink markings and miniature structures of what would become their army.The past week had been spent in the same room from dawn to dusk, plotting and planning, restructuring and debating until finally, the foundation had been underpinned.“He will be expecting us,” Hadrius
The Beast's Slave 51
Hadrius wanted to see her every expression above his own - the tightness to her jaw slackening as his warm mouth meets the soft flesh of her inner thigh in an open mouthed kiss. His tongue presses on her burning skin, tasting sweat, her scent and his own.Hadrius buries his nose into the delicate crevice of her inner thigh and moans in theatrical exaggeration. His hot tongue drags over the hollow of her leg, and the throbbing pulse of her femoral artery, then back down again. Each time he would edge higher, graze the soft trimmed dark curls, tentatively bite on her outer lips, then release and lick a path back down. Her pussy radiates heat like an inferno inches from his rough cheek, aching for his touch.River’s hands grip his roots, demurely steering him towards her crotch but he braces a large palm on her thigh, stopping her.“Patience,” the warlord chastises, mirthful eyes dancing up to meet her glowering ones. Her face is scarlet, the hood
The Beast's Slave 52
“Your grip is loose.”“Straighten your hips.”“Power comes from the legs.”“Stop slouching.”“Higher.”“Faster.”“Harder—”River’s face flushes with the strain of exercise after yielding and unyielding her sword repeatedly for the past several hours; her arms shudder with exhaustion, her muscles tensing like overplucked bow strings. The sun rests behind a thick layer of darkened clouds, autumn’s final breeze wallowing past her sweat-slick face, stirring stray strands of hair that slip from her loose ponytail.Hadrius watches her, his gaze sharper than the blade she wields. His countenance is a blank slate despite her numerous failures, offering no reaction each time she regurgitates a mistake - only humming in disapproval when she nearly twists her ankle while racing from one end to another.“Your feet, human,&rdqu
The Beast's Slave 53
Hadrius lingers by the hallway, his form hidden in the dark shadows that lick across his skin, pressing him further in.The kitchen is not far ahead, glowing light spilling from the burning fireplace and casting the two shifting shadows within. His footsteps are noiseless as the distance between closes and their voices take on a prominent form.“...Where is your family?” Cain’s voice is husky and distinct, and holds a curious yet familiar playful edge to it. Hadrius halts by the entrance, still masked by the murmuring shadows that joined him in his eavesdropping.His human does not reply immediately, the recognisable sound of a knife cutting on a chopping board echoing throughout.The cutting falters but only slightly. “I have no family.”The warlord can almost envision his brother’s eyebrow rising to the ceiling. “An orphan?”The indignant twitching of his mate’s jaw flickers in his mind
The Beast's Slave 54
Fear.Hadrius knew that word well for it had always been something that creatures would live, swallow, breathe from one of his glances alone.Fear.He had cast it in people’s hearts, as a hot iron blade branded skin, so the warlord marked his presence with it. Scarcely had he ever felt such an emotion, and the mere thought of it felt foreign, distant- almost nonexistent.He thought he would never have to feel such a way again.But here. Now. Staring at his human, poised at the table with her fingertip sliced clean- the warlord finally feels the unfamiliar emotion surge through his veins like ice cold fire.“Human-” Hadrius’ voice cracks like chords tearing. His throat constricts with sound. There is blood. Bright blood spilling like a secret on the table, trickling down the cupboard, dripping onto the floor in puddles of poppy petals.Yet she does not notice the inflicted wound, her own incredulous eye
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