004 || A Stroke Of Fate

EMBER

I didn't fight them. My strong will had died with my son. So, there I was, kneeling on a large raised stone. My arms were spread on either side of me, chained to the floor. My face was pressed against the floor, tears streaming endlessly down my cheeks.

I looked up at Azai, who sat on a seat, watching me. Beside him was the woman who had given me the key to my own doom. She stood there, her expression neutral.

Holding eye contact with me, she adjusted Azai's fur coat with intimate movements. It bothered me. And yet, acknowledging that thought made me feel sick to my stomach.

"What is your verdict, alpha?" The large brute who was to be my executioner asked, and I closed my eyes for a moment, my throat hurting.

"Whip her to death. Let her feel every second of it," came Azai's response.

A sob tore out of me.

Maybe I deserved this after all. A murderer like me deserved even worse. Might as well get it over with.

But still...

I choked on my thoughts as the first lash hit me. I arched, screaming in agony as my vision went white.

"Azai!" The woman by his side cried, and I pushed past my pain, looking up at him.

It was mortifying how even at the point of death, I was still curious about my own tormentor.

He was doubled over in his chair, clutching at his chest. His face was contorted with anguish at first. But then his gaze met mine. And the iciness in his eyes shattered. Pure terror. I could see it embedded deep in his crimson eyes.

"No..." he breathed. "It can't be..."

What...? What can't be?

My executioner had paused. "Alpha?" he said, his voice laced with concern.

Slowly, Azai rose to his feet, and his mask slipped back into place as he stared down at me.

"Continue," he commanded. "Make it hurt."

I could feel his rage climbing. Even the executioner faltered for a moment.

This was it. My end.

The next lash stole the air from my lungs. I convulsed, my nerves screaming as pieces of my flesh were ripped away.

Right then, the tinkling of bells filled the air, and the guards began to murmur.

"The seer?" someone said.

"What is she doing here?" I heard another guard whisper.

Again, the executioner was distracted. I dug my nails into the ground, trying to breathe through the pain.

But then, an aggressive wave of torment consumed me. It wasn't from the whip. No. Something had just exploded inside my head. I cried out, feeling drool slide down my chin as I quivered on the stone, my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

Images flashed through my mind at a haunting speed.

Blood red skies. Rain. Red rivers. Butchered wolves. People screaming. Fire. Azai on his knees. A blade ripping his heart out. His body going still on the ground—

Cold water was splashed onto my face, and I gasped, coughing and shivering, the vision fading.

"Little one," a soft voice whispered, and I forced my eyes open, trying to focus my gaze.

Ethereal features eased into my line of sight. Gods...who was this woman?

Dressed in a pristine white robe, her long white hair fell down to her waist, her violet eyes fixed on me.

With gentle fingers, she touched my cheek. Then she smiled, her white lashes fluttering.

"You have been gifted the eyes of the moon, human. The goddess decided to spare your life tonight," she said, and I gaped at her, unable to comprehend her words.

"What are you saying, Deonne?" Azai asked, his voice flat.

She straightened slowly, her movements graceful.

"I'm saying, if she dies, you will die, Alpha Azai."

What?

Murmurs rolled through the chamber, the tension in the air suffocating.

"Is this a joke, Deonne?" Azai demanded, his anger bleeding into his powerful voice.

"You of all people should know that I am not fond of humour. The goddess gave me a message. Hear me, Azai Rankai of the Blood Fang Pack. The human must live. In her hand lies the survival of every single one of the goddess' children."

"What..." I croaked. "What are you—"

The words didn't make it out. My body had suffered enough. My consciousness faded into darkness.

....

Everything was heat and throbbing pain.

I awoke slowly, my back burning as though someone had laid fresh coals across it. I was lying on my stomach on a narrow cot, the rough linen beneath my cheek damp with sweat. A cool cloth moved gently over my shredded skin, each stroke careful.

Someone was sobbing bitterly.

"Sweet girl... my poor, sweet girl..."

The voice was old and cracked with grief. I tried to turn my head, but even that small movement sent fire racing down my spine.

"Shh, don't move, child. You'll tear the wounds open again."

An elderly woman leaned into my blurred vision. Silver hair pulled into a tight bun, deep wrinkles framing kind brown eyes that shimmered with unshed tears. She dipped the cloth into a basin and wrung it out, the scent of herbs and honey rising between us.

"You know me?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.

She paused, her lips trembling. "Of course I know you. I watched you grow into the finest Luna this pack has ever seen." Her voice cracked. "And I know, deep in my bones, that you did not kill your son. You could never."

Amnesia or not, the guilt had been eating me alive. Hearing someone say it aloud with such conviction hit hard.

"I... I don't remember," I choked out. "But Azai believes—"

"Azai is blinded by rage and fear," she cut in gently, pressing the cloth to a particularly raw stripe across my shoulder. "You are not a murderer."

Fragile hope swelled in my chest. Right then, the door slammed open without warning.

The old woman shot upright, the basin nearly tipping. Her face drained of colour. She bowed low before hurrying out and shutting the door.

I stayed on my stomach, unable to push myself up. Heavy footsteps approached. Boots stopped beside the cot. I felt the weight of his stare, suffocating me.

Slowly, I lifted my head.

Azai stood there, his arms loose at his sides, watching me with an unnerving stillness. Then his mouth curved.

He smiled.

It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen.

It was a slow smile that stretched his lips but never touched his crimson eyes. It magnified the fury rolling off him in waves.

"Apparently," he purred, "you have the luck of the goddess herself."

I stiffened.

"Our son isn't dead after all."

The words stole the air from my lungs. Relief consumed me instantly.

"He's... alive?"

"Barely," Azai corrected, the smile never disappearing. "The healers stabilized the life-link after you were dragged away. He clings to this world by a thread. And now it seems the thread is tied to you."

Ignoring the agony that ripped across my back, I slid off the cot and dropped to my knees in front of him. My thin dress rode up, but I didn't care.

"I'll do anything," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Anything to save him. Tell me what you need. I'll endure it. I'll bleed for him. I'll—"

Azai's hand shot out, gripping my chin with bruising force. He tilted my face up until I had no choice but to meet his gaze.

The touch continued lower, dragging over my collarbone, then between my breasts, stopping at the edge of my cleavage. Heat simmered wherever his finger passed.

His smile turned cruel.

"I understand the part where I have to breed you to save our son," he murmured, each word dripping with venom. "The goddess demands it. The bond demands it. So I will take you until you swell with my child again. I will do whatever it takes to keep that boy breathing."

His eyes bled to pure black, a low growl rumbling from his chest.

"What I don't understand..." His grip tightened painfully. “…is why the moon goddess cursed me with you as my mate."

The last word came out as a snarl, raw and furious.

I trembled under his hold, pain and unwanted heat warring inside me. Even now, broken and feverish on my knees, some treacherous part of me responded to the dark promise in his touch.

Azai leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"Pray the goddess is kinder to you than I intend to be, little mate."

He released me abruptly. I swayed, catching myself on my hands, my back screaming in protest.

Azai turned towards the door, pausing with his hand on the latch.

"Rest while you can. The healers will tend your wounds again tonight. Tomorrow..."

That terrifying smile returned over his shoulder.

“Tomorrow, we begin."