The Rogue King's Cursed Mate

"The first rule of revenge is survival, the second rule is silence, the third is precision, and the fourth? Don't look back."

˙❥ VALKYRIE

How does one feel when they're different?

White eyes.

White hair.

An Omega.

Worse, they're wolf-less.

Caught in a circle of strong werewolves, their eyes wide and fierce, burning with intensity. I could hear the tiny, hushed whispers of their voices.

Mothers held their pups firmly while the male werewolves stood protectively, as if I were an omen.

“She's a witch.”

"Murderer."

A loud snarl drew out from one of them, and the circle separated to reveal a man in a shiny gold robe. His black hair damped with gel and perfectly styled.

Alpha Jayden.

I stared up at him, drool mixed with blood pooling at the corner of my mouth as a low whimper escaped my lips. He wasn't alone. Amara, a pack friend turned sister, clung behind, a mischievous glint settled within her eyes, and a small smile grazed her cheeks.

Jayden crouched to my level and his fingers snaked beneath my chin, lifting my head to meet his blue ones now tainted with coldness.

“Why did you do that?” He questioned, softly, yet the words sliced through my chest like a sword laced with silver.

Yesterday, I lost my mother. She was fine and doing well until she suddenly slumped. I watched as her eyes rolled back and her mouth and nose dripped with black blood, struggling to survive with her arms spread frantically, gasping for air. I was petrified yet glued to my stance and just like that, I watched as life seeped out of her.

I couldn't save her and before you ask why I couldn't call anyone, it's because no one would have helped. Not the Alpha king, Alpha Ryder, or his son, Jayden, who has always been the only best friend I had, nor Amara, who has been taken care of under our roof after she lost her parents to the war in the pack years ago.

Not the Beta, pack members, or doctors.

I know because my Dad had died that way, even when I ran with my small feet. My mum had also gone to the Alpha, but we were shunned, disposed of, and meant to let my Dad die.

That day, my mum had tossed me aside, blaming me for the misfortune.

“Why did you have to come out this way?! Like the witch that had been killed on the night of the blood moon?”

She sniffed.

“Why do I have to be the one to suffer for what I knew nothing about?”

I heard I wasn't the only one who had these features. An Omega called Akira, said to be a witch, was burned by the members of this pack, even before I was born. She had striking white hair and eyes and a similar birthmark beneath her navel.

I, too, wonder. Why was I born this way?

Why do I have to bear the consequences of her brutal death when I haven't even been formed yet?

My parents are Omegas but not with these unique features.

Was I a witch?

And every day, I forgive my mother for her brutal, unbearable words. For her grievance toward me, because truly, I was to blame. But today, I wished I could be heard, for once.

“I didn't do it!” More blood poured out of my lips.

“I could feed your flesh right now to these hungry wolves, and decorate the pack's hall with your bones,” he muttered, digging his long nails into my flesh. “Imagine if we had never sent someone to spy on you?”

My eyes darted to Amara, and it finally clicked. She was never by my side.

“Would you also tell her we're mates?” Amara chipped in, enjoying every bit of humiliation.

My eyes widened and my chest heaved heavily.

“Why?” I spun towards Amara, more blood trickling from my lips. “Tell me you're…lying?"

“I'm not.” She laid her palm on his back. “At the mating ceremony.”

My body felt like it was on ice— cold, still. Jayden was Amara's mate? And she never let me know?

How did I miss it?

The mating ceremony took place two full moons ago. I'd been devastated when I realized every one of my peers had seen their wolf except me. Alpha Jayden and Amara had consoled me, telling me it was normal for some werewolves not to see their wolf until the next full moon.

I was also relieved when I realized I wasn't the only one without a mate, too, but this…

My nose flared, and the hairs on my skin rose.

“Burn her!” Jayden ordered and I was dragged out of the gathering before I could even speak.

“Amara, you're going to be the Luna of the pack, please, beg him. I didn't do anything.”

“I am Luna already.” Amara's face hung into a practiced smile.

“Please!”

A heavy sack was thrown over my head and I was bundled like a bag of potatoes until a sharp, deafening voice shattered through my cries.

“Stop!”

For a moment, my heart steadied. Elder Raphael. He was my mother's friend. Since my dad died, he became close to my mum, and I, for one, thought something was going on between them.

He would not let them kill me. I know.

“The black market would start their annual bidding tomorrow, it would be a waste to just... burn her.”

My heart leaped to my mouth. It wasn't what I was thinking.

I wrung within the sack. “No!”

“We can put her up for sale. The merchant, Mr. Greyback at the market is known for businesses like this, and the money can be used for funding the Alpha's mating ceremony.”

I couldn't see them, but I could hear their soft hum and little clap. “Nice idea, Elder Raph,” Jayden said and my soul almost met with the moon goddess.

Suddenly, a sharp object poked the side of my lap within the sack but it was too late before I noticed, too late to beg once more as the silver; a substance used to harm and weaken werewolves, danced in my veins and darkness enveloped me.

.

.

A DAY LATER

“SECTION 40, holding 2!” The booming voice of one of the handler jolted me out of my reverie.

I sulked my eyes up, hissing inwardly from the interruption.

“Getting acquainted with the walls of your holding?” He said, wryly.

“Mmmph,” I scoffed, “you have been here for ages, serving men whom you can only dream of becoming, yet you're talking about holdings? You're more of a slave than I am,” I laughed.

“B!tch!” The handler spat, opening the locks of the holding. He grasped my hair in a tight hold, twisting and turning until my scalp tingled with pain.

>“She has a sharp mouth for a new slave,” One of the slaves opposite mine whispered in a low tone.

>“Stop being a spoiled brat, whore,” another snickered.

I grimaced, tightening my hold on the hand of the guard even when the chains were boring into my flesh but he didn't budge.

“You're lucky you're about to be sold,” he muttered, “I would have buried my c0ck deep inside this fu©king sl*t hole you call a mouth until you bled.”

He slammed my back against the wall.

”Sold?” One of the slaves screamed.