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7
Hadrius.
River did not know the extent of power in which his name held. The simple murmur of that word set both men and women apart from, avoiding the girl much like a plague.
As though his name had been branded across her forehead, each place she walked the women scattered from her path like dry leaves.
Something was terribly wrong with their reaction, River realizes, yet no one dared tell her the reason.
Twice she tried approaching two girls, bent over a cauldron stirring thick chunks of stew for the men’s dinner. One girl glanced up, as though sensing an unwanted presence, then her eyes widened to saucers and she scurried away. The other simply hunched over the pot and played pretend, feigning she was not there.
It unnerved River, their reactions. Something bitter and hot swirled in her belly each time she stepped out of his tent. Not that she minded for isolation had always been her preference, still…
River blows out a breat
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The Beast's Slave 8
There is a silence.The evening darkens in the room. Noiselessly, and with silver feet, the shadows creep in from the corners. The colours fade wearily out of things.Hadrius is motionless, strangely staring at the naked mortal that stands before him. A girl, he had not noticed before, with the slight formation of hectic spots of red burning on her cheeks - he simply stares with vague indifference, so much so his expression would be no different whilst regarding a fly on the wall.She seems hardly eighteen years of age, with a little flower-like face, a small Greek head with messy plaited coils of dark-brown hair, feverish eyes that burn hazel wells of amethyst caution, lips that are like the petals of a rose.The woman behind Hadrius stirs, and slips like a ghost between him and the door, nimbly making her way to the bed. The girl seems disturbed by the sudden presence, dropping her head sharply whilst reaching for the towel on the bed. Her small hands b
The Beast's Slave 9
Little clouds that, like ravelling skeins of glossy white silk, are drifting across the hollowed turquoise of the autumn sky. The scent of a thunderstorm and snow drifts by closely.As River walks through the camp, she looks at the common women, noticing a split lip here, a bruise there. One girl, young and otherwise pretty, had a star-burst scar on her forehead where a spear butt had struck. Her stare lingers on their faces long enough to feel an ice finger touch her heart.She wonders if Hadrius would be as callous and brutal as the men. She expects nothing short of such violence, yet hopes she would not surpass his limits. He held the power in their relationship and should he wake up one day and decide to whip her bloody, neither man nor woman would bat an eyelash at his actions.River licks her teeth and grits her teeth at the possibility of such a thing happening; she is a slave and mistakes are bound to happen, a spill of wine here, the crease of cloth the
The Beast's Slave 10
Leaves crunch beneath Hadrius’ bare feet.He moves with agile ease, in hand he carries the limp body of the woman he had murdered amidst fucking her.His eyes idly scan the campsite, seeking men who sat outside their huts or around the fire speaking in low tones, sharpening their battle swords or simply dozing with chins tucked on their chests.Hadrius steps past the treeline, walking deeper and deeper still. The woman in his arms sways lifelessly, eyes dimmed like the onset of glaucoma and staring at the twilight sky. The trees rise all around forming a thick canopy of leaves that block out the moonlight, allowing only faint slants of white that cut across his bare back and ponytail that sways with elegant laziness, the silver barbells pierced horizontally on his nipples glimmer wickedly.He ducks beneath a low branch and straightens as the trees slowly part, revealing a partial clearing where his second-in-command currently stands, nude, arms cros
The Beast's Slave 11
River wakes before the crack of dawn - her body seemingly unable to capture a full night’s rest as she had tossed and turned on the hardened divan. She lays on her back, staring at the wall, hyper aware of the cold morning air that filters through partially opened windows, skimming over her sweat drenched skin.Goosebumps rise.She sighs and rubs her eyes while slowly pushing herself into an upright position. Automatically, her eyes slant towards the large figure that remains still beneath a thin silk sheet. Hadrius is motionless, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest. He lies on his back, one arm cast over his eyes, the other resting over his bandaged torso.She studies his form, realizing then just how large the man is -- it seems the queen sized bed is not sufficient for his bare foot peeks just about the edge. She traces the curve of tribal markings along the sole of his foot, wrapping around each toe, and wonders why he seems so intent on cov
The Beast's Slave 12
Each footfall of River’s shot panic up her knee, stabbing her heart with a pained intensity. Fear expands within her, threatening to break her skin. She struggles and fails to maintain each measured inhale.Anita walks beside her in a manner of submissiveness, head lowered to the floor, a shawl wrapped around her head to hide the formation of new bruises that map her skin. Odin had done that to her, River realized, horrified. Her stomach cartwheels at the prospect of what he might do to her.“What does he want with me?” River finally manages to speak, a strange touch of pain in her voice. She glances sideways at Anita whose gait is monotonous and holds a slight limp to it, each footfall causes her to wince in mild discomfort. “Anita-”“Just count to ten,” the girl whispers in finality, though she does not look up, “count to ten and it will be all over. Or think of your family… or something other than…
The Beast's Slave 13
Hadrius did not return throughout the evening.River remains in the room, pacing back and forth, unable to still the lengthy juddering of her heart. She pauses at one end of the room and gnaws on her fingernail, unconsciously biting too hard and drawing blood.The pain is sharp and instant, briefly drawing her from her mind in a web of stinging thoughts. "Fuck," she curses lowly and makes for his bathroom carefully washing it in the bowl of water before tearing a thin strip from the hem of her skirt and wrapping it around her thumb.The pacing continues.It does not stop until the familiar discordant sounds of voices echo from the outside as the beasts began their return, howls of their wolves drifts from the mountains and hills, resonant laughter.Nothing that gives evidence of tension.River’s shoulders sag. That could only mean that they did not know what Odin had done to her. Hadrius must have left the camp altogether.A kno
The Beast's Slave 14
The icy grey sky restlessly grumbles as clouds part with a sigh, roaring rain pounding on the men, reflecting the hazardous yet calm anger that brews within the warlord.The harsh rain obliterates the crystal reflection of the sky and turns it into a disoriented haze that only sharpens his senses further acutely, and as darkness shifts, so does his reptilian calculative eyes - drifting from one man's face to another.In the dimness of his mind, Hadrius feels his wolf rise on its haunches, shifting the thinness of skin that struggles to maintain his human form. He is hot to the touch, firm lips twitching with a spasm of vexation.Anger is an understatement, fury itself seems nothing more than a speck of dust before the warlord's building temper. Knowing that one of his men had touched a possession of his was not only degrading but outright insulting. A challenge to his title for no respect lay in such actions.It stained his authority over them as Beta, se
The Beast's Slave 15
River does not know what to expect when Hadrius had commanded her to sleep in his bed for the night.His demand, curt and cold, feels like a hunting crop lashed across her face, and she stands before the queen sized bed in a daze, hectic spots of red dotting her cheeks.Her mind reels with dark, nebulous thoughts. Having just barely survived Odin’s sexually deviant behaviour, she wonders if Hadrius is trying to do the same, perhaps in a more coaxing manner. Like a spider, he is slowly luring her in gossamer threads, wrapping her gently, spreading her wide— her mouth grows bone dry at the prospect of him.Unlike Odin, Hadrius is an intimidating behemoth of a creature. She could not fight him off, and if she did try, River is sure he would snap her elbows within a heartbeat.He is your master, the voice urges, dryly unpleasant, stealing her fears beneath the conventional expected role of a servant.You do not deny the man who claimed you
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