The Lycan's cursed mate

YEARS AGO.

“No, Mama,” the little girl wails, clinging to her mother. Her tiny fists knot into the folds of Adeline’s cloak, her voice trembling with terror. “I don't want to stay here.”

Adeline’s heart shatters, but she swallows the sob clawing its way up her throat. She crouches low, pressing her forehead to her daughter's.

“You must, my love,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “They’ll find you if you stay with me.”

The girl wonders if the 'they' means the man with claw-like hands that ripped out her father's heart while she hid trembling in the attic or the strange figure her mother once worked for, the one who died in the fire she accidentally caused when she scrambled from under the bed and knocked over a candle.

Her tiny fists tighten around her mother's cloak, tears streaking down her chubby cheeks. “ I'm sorry , Mama. I’ll be quiet, Mama! I’ll hide!”

Adeline grips her daughter’s face with trembling hands, forcing her to meet her eyes.

“Listen to me, Freya. You are safer here. You must believe me.”

She presses a kiss on her daughter's forehead and shoves her gently toward the waiting madam, who watches with calculating eyes. Freya screams, trying to run back, but Adeline steps away, pressing a shaking hand over her mouth to hold in her own tears.

“I will come back for you,” she swears, her voice barely audible. “No matter how long it takes, I will find you again. You are my heart, Freya. Never forget that.”

She then turn and flee before she loses her courage.

Her daughter's wails echoes after her, haunting her like a curse she will carry for the rest of her life.

But she knows it's for the best.

They won't find her here.

*

*

*

PRESENT TIME

*FREYA*

It will soon be over.

Just one more day.

I stare at the dull ceilings as he slams into me, my body already numb to the familiar ache between my thighs.

“Yes... take it all,” he slurs, his breath reeking of liquor.

His sweaty body makes me want to recoil in disgust.

A sob claws its way up my throat. He takes it as a moan of pleasure as he thrusts faster and harder.

This has been my life since I turned eighteen.

Madamè Cherie. My captor or my benefactor as she would rather call herself was probably somewhere downstairs, smacking her lips as she counts her profits.

My mother left me in her care — for protection she had claimed. But immediately I turned eighteen, the reality became clearer.

I was sold to become a whore.

Whatever was in that bitter potion Madamé Cheriè forces down my throat before each night somehow keeps me from conceiving.

Not long after, the man collapses, groans of satisfaction rumbling in his chest, and wobbles to his feet.

“You deserve a tip for being such a good girl,” he slurs, flinging some crumpled note and coins at me.

He then staggers out of the room, fumbling with his clothes, and the door slams shut behind him.

I haul myself up and pick the crumpled note and coins.

This will be useful for the future.

Just as I add it to my stash in my little bundle of clothes,the next customer strolls in leisurely through the door and my breath hitches.

Silas.

A regular here and a sadist.

He’d tie me up with leather straps, his eyes gleaming with a twisted delight as he watch me struggle. No matter how many times I complained to Madame Cherié, she never intervened. He is wealthy, connected to the royal family, and his tips are too generous to risk losing. In the end, I learned the only thing I could do is to endure.

His lips curl up into an evil smirk as he stalk towards me. His intention obvious in the devilish glint in his eyes.

He crouches lower and I scramble back in fear, my back hitting the rough headboard.

“How have you been, my favorite whore?” he croons.

I flinch.

He chuckles , my fear igniting a dangerous thrill.

My pulse race with each second as he crawls painfully slow to where I was, a pair of metal cuffs in his hand catching the light.

My eyes widen.

No, please . Not today.

My arms still hurt from the last encounter.

A sharp pain shoots through my scalp as he grabs my hair, yanking me to his side.

“I need to fuck your brain out before the king comes for you,” he rasps, licking his lips and I freeze.

“W..What?” I croak out in a shaky voice.

“Yes baby,” he drawls, his teeth grazing my ear. “I paid Madamè Cherié a lot of money for tonight.”

My heart pounds against my ribcage.

King Orion Hargrove.

He'd buy girls from the Courtesan house to build his harem.

Madamè willingly sells without bating an eyelid.

It was a way she could make some more money and protection in return.

But the girls that were sold—they were never heard of again.

Rumors had it that he'd kill them after his sick pleasures.

Now it's my turn.

Goosebumps prickle my skin and I shudder at the thought.

A hand grabbing by boobs drags me out of the haze and I flinch.

Silas rips my dress, lust flashing in his eyes and I stumble back, clutching the poor excuse of a dress and shielding my boobs away from his leering gaze.

Change of plans. My escape is tonight.

My survival instinct kicks in and I knee him in the groin.

“You bitch!”

He clutch his groin area, his face twisting in pain.

I quickly grab my bundle and move to the small window.

It's now or never.

Before I can leap, a hand drags me back and slams my head against the wall.

“Where do you think you're going?!”

Dizziness sets in and I blink , feeling a warm sensation on the side of my head. Pains explodes through my head.

“You really think you can escape, huh?!” he spits, his voice full of venom.

“You never learn, do you?!”

He unbuckles his belt and folds it in his hands, his lips curling in a sardonic smirk.

My eyes widen.

The sharp welts on my back from the last time I tried to escape ache, a constant reminder that I can't escape this life.

The first blow lands on my back and I bite my lips, refusing to make a sound despite the pain.

“You really think you can escape from here? The wolves in the forest will tear you to shreds,” he hiss, his chest heaving.

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for the second but nothing.

My eyes flutter open and he's standing there—still as a stone, his gaze fixed on my torn sleeve.

I know what's he is looking at.

The ugly scars that snake around my arm like a memory I can't remember.

It should make me special but it labels me a freak among the kids.

When I was younger, they'd whisper behind my back and in shadows.

Madamè Cherié always said to keep them covered — pretty girls don’t have flaws, she’d whisper while tugging my sleeves higher.

Silas stares at them in disgust.

Using this as a distraction, I grab a discarded bottle of liquor on the bedside table and smash it against his head.

His eyes roll over and his body slumps in his pool of blood.

He staggers to his feet and lunges for me.

I smash his head again, this time with all the strength I can muster.

His body goes limp with a thud and his breathing slows.

The reality of what I have done crashes over me and the bottle slips from my trembling hands, shattering on the floor.

A whimper escapes from my lips.

Oh, heavens. I just killed someone.

I crouch down, leaning over his still form. My fingers hover hesitantly above his chest before I finally press down, praying for a heartbeat.

Nothing.

My heart skips. I press harder, counting in my head — one, two, three — still nothing.

Then, just as panic claws up my throat, a faint thud stirs beneath my fingertips.

He’s alive.

Barely.

The sound of approaching footsteps fill the hallway and blood drains from my face.

I need to leave. Now.

Throwing my bundle through the window, I jump out and land on my feet.

Pain shoots through my ankle and my knees buckle but I force myself up.

The rough road that leads to the gate stretches ahead before me .

I need to hurry and cross the gate before the first light.

Before the guards at the city gates resume their patrol.

Most of them are regulars at the courtesan's house and would recognize me.

Knotting the ripped part of dress on my shoulder, I race past the line of trees without catching my breath.

“Stop right there!”

Someone yells but I don't.

Blood roars in my ears and I force my burning limbs to move faster.

I almost breathe in relief when the city gates looms ahead but a force connect with my ribs and I crash—hard.

My fingers dig into the dirt as I lift my head.

A fearsome looking man stands before me, recognition flashes in his eyes.

“Aren't you the girl from the tavern?” he asks, eyeing me in suspicion.

I shake my head but he merely tilts his head.

“I need to take you back,” he says, grabbing my arm harshly.

He drags me back towards the path leading to the Courtesan's house and dread twists in my chest.

If I go back after what I did to Silas, I'll will be punished even executed.

I will rather die than go back to that house of sin and live like a rag doll.

With this determination, I draw back my elbow and hit him square on the nose. I hear a sickening crack as blood stream down his nose.

He stumbles back, releasing me and clutches his nose.

“You whore!” he snarls but I have no time to waste.

I shove him off and dart towards a corner as fast as I can.

The old walls come into view and muscle memory takes over.

My fingers find the narrow gaps between the bricks as I start to climb.

Halfway up, my hand slips, and the broken bricks clatter to the ground.

Tears of frustration burn the corner of my eyes and I try again.

Suddenly, footsteps echo behind me and flashlight wash over me.

I freeze.

“Who's there?!” a guard hollers.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.

Adrenaline surges through me and I push off the last brick, pushing myself over the steep wall just as my muscles scream in protest.

I hit the ground hard on the other side, the pain on my ankle worsens as the world tilts for a moment.

Just then, the warning bells chime, slicing through the silent night.

My heart pounds in my ears as I push myself into the woods,past the danger zones.

No one is allowed outside the city gates of Ashvale. Nobody ever leaves because of the tales of the forest housing wild creatures.

The ones who dared to disobey were found dead. Their severed heads hung at the metal bars of the city gates.

I care less at this point, I'm going to die anyways.

Diving deep into the forest, I push past branches, the ground slick with mud.

Thorns pierce the sole of my feet but the pain doesn't stop me.

After walking for a while, I near a clearing and my legs protest in pain.

I rest against the rough bark of a tree, my hand pressed against my chest to control my laboured breathing.

Something moves in my right followed by a low growl and snap of twigs.

Amber eyes glow in the dark.

My face turns pale, beads of sweat trailing down my back.

I try to move but my legs muscles become stiff. Something shifts behind me and I turn.

Red eyes glare at me.

A huge wolf prowls from the shadows steathily toward me.

A scream claws its way up my throat.

This is it.

I'm going to die.