The Beta's Prize

The Beta's Prize

By:  Alle  Updated just now
Language: English
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Ivan is a lost soul. He longs for each month's fight to the death in the Cage to be his last day on earth. Except when Cherish's terrified clear blue eyes meet his in a post-fight haze, he feels compelled to get involved. If he doesn't claim her body as his victory prize one of the other embittered fighters will. While Cherish despises Ivan for his notorious brutality in the Cage, she soon realises she cannot afford for him to lose the next fight. Not just for her own safety, but for her softening heart as he defies her expectations about shifters. Both have secrets, but when trapped together under the watchful eye of the Axelon gang, fellow fighters and desperate gamblers, is their love enough to achieve the impossible, and escape? Fate has kept Ivan alive this long, is Cherish the reason? Or is there to be a final cruel twist from the Moon Goddess…

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62 chapters
1. Cherish
It has been a week since I was kidnapped. The first three days involved rolling around in the back of a van with a black cloth bag over my head. There were several other captives in with me although nobody dared talk much above a pained whimper. The stench of sweat and cigarettes warned us that at least one of the thugs was sitting in the back with us. Whilst we travelled, the buzz of the electric cattle prod against one wailing girl told me to bide my time. Struggling would not get me anything but injuries. Instead I tried to decipher the chatter of the drivers whenever my tied up body rolled close enough to listen. "Shame about the redhead from last month. I'd hoped she was left behind so I could have a go." "Get yourself in the Cage then, win one for yourself," a man with a throaty rasp answered. "Nah, I'm happy with sloppy seconds if I don't have to risk getting my throat ripped out," as a dirty, sleazy laugh followed. A wave of nausea hit me. “What do you think they do with
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2. Ivan
As they haul my bloodied carcass up from the cold terracotta floor the crowd's racket was deafening. "Eleven wins in a row!" "He didn't stand a chance!" “It’s not normal!” I groaned in agony, squinting into the floodlights as the blinding red mist that had consumed me slowly lifted. Whilst being pulled out of the Cage's pit I caught a glimpse of the lifeless, mangled wreckage of a body that was my opponent. Unfortunately I have no recollection of inflicting that much pain yet the metallic taste of blood in my mouth is indisputable. As are the agonising slashes across my bare ribcage. I have fought and won, again. "You'll get first pick of the prizes tonight my champ! Take them all if you want you fucking hero!" Vincent yelled over the baying crowd. "He's magnificent!" he yelled, parading me through the parting crowd like a racehorse. The stench of overheated men made my lip curl up in disgust, making them shout with delight. “He wants more, look at him!” Slaps on the back and
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3. Ivan
An hour later, standing around with the five other surviving fighters from this month’s Showcase we make a grisly scene. Our cuts, wounds, black eyes and bleeding are still obvious for a few more hours before the shifter healing completes. I notice Rufus, a man I sparred with, did not make it through his round. A pity. Yet here I am, clad in a black, soft robe with a thick red trim, still alive. Instead Denton, a black-bearded criminal gives me a silent throat slitting gesture and a smirk. He had also made it to eleven wins tonight, under the self-assigned name of Denton the Destroyer. His rival in sin, Xavier, a tattooed, wiry shifter whose sadistic cunning enhanced his physical strength had also made it to eight wins. We grimly nodded at each other, the other three had survived their first ever Cage. Rufus, Maxwell, and Brent replaced by another three identically rough looking men. Faceless entities for now. However while these new victors all licked their lips and muttered
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4. Cherish
Calm the fuck down he said. What the hell am I supposed to do, just let this red haired, beast covered in open wounds haul me to his bed? He might have looked the sanest of the men in the group but that isn’t saying much. His green eyes are dull and tired, yet he walked so quickly I had to scamper after him. How can I possibly believe he isn’t going to hurt me? The man with one eye, the way he was touching himself, eager to enjoy violating one of us. If he had picked me…I shudder and try to shake the thought away before I break down. My mind is wandering yet I haven’t moved from where my new captor left me. The sounds of water and undressing from the bathroom suggest he is telling the truth, yet I am frozen. I try to lift my tongue, to form any kind of word but it is stuck too. True, catastrophic fear, the likes of which I have never known before, has rendered me both mute and a statue. I need to run away, test how strong the bars are on his windows or see if there are any guar
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5. Cherish
My last remaining adrenalin must have exhausted itself as somehow, I fell asleep. I even dreamed. They were not nightmares of being kidnapped but instead peaceful dreams of ascending, like reaching the top of a wooded hill and basking in the nature around me. Very soothing and calming. Perhaps my brain is trying to soothe my fear-soaked body into believing I will be okay. However the instant Ivan rolled over in the bed my eyes shot open, tense, and ready, staring up at the mattress, fists clenched and ready. I am not being naïve enough to assume that just because he didn’t harm me last night he won’t pounce in the morning. Instead I hear manly stretching, grunting noises then a rustle as a face quietly peers over the bed to see where I am. Surrounded by a dozen towels in a strange little den, just my face peering out and a mass of blonde hair. I am fully aware I look ridiculous. For once his face changes, a strange little half-smile forms and he mutters, “you look like a mouse,”
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6. Ivan
I make my way down to the training area. The large wood-panelled exercise halls almost make me like a young teen back in training. Except the pommel horses have been replaced by boxing rings and blood spattered punch dummies. Denton in particular liked to punch them until his hands bled. Some pathetic display of strength I guess. It certainly intimidated the newer recruits. There were twenty men including myself.Six rooms became available last night after the Showcase, seeing as they always end in an opponent's death, therefore six fresh faces sat eagerly on the front row of the benches as instructed, each holding their newly issued robe, the colour corresponding to their living quarters. They were a mix of old, grizzled, desperate and terrified. All had probably succumbed to building up debts with Vincent’s Axelon group. Sometimes fathers built up the debts and sent their sons to pay the price. A disgusting betrayal of family, they never lasted beyond one fight. If you are not
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7. Cherish
After bathing Martha escorted me back. Despite her niceness to me she was still a part of this awful system, how could be a good person and exist in here? My damp blonde hair was up high in a large bun. As soon as I got back to the room I locked the door, took off the hideous silken gown. Grabbing the grey hooded top from last night, a peculiar apple scent hit me, sending a warm feeling down my body and I hugged it closer to me. This must be what Martha meant about a shifter's scent. Is that why Martha made me have such a potent soak? Well right now I reeked of oranges and lime so hopefully Ivan will be fooled into thinking that is my particular smell. Why I clasped the grey hooded top to my chest like a comforter I have no idea. My random nest of towels has been cleaned away, the room is stark and basic. I frantically searched through his large mahogany drawers for something else to cover my naked body. Martha might think Ivan is better than the others but nobody likes finding s
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8. Ivan
Cherish, a beautiful name, looked at me like I do towards those animals Xavier or Denton. Perhaps naively I had forgotten that she would see me as a scum, no different to the rest. I don’t have to help her, I can just bide my time until the next bout and then get the hell out of here… “Who is the other person?” she asked softly, snapping me out of my dark thoughts. I realised I was still standing against the door frame, guarding her like a savage. My muscles ached with tension as every millimetre Vincent came towards crossing my threshold made my hackles rise in anger. Turning around I blew out my cheeks and ran two hands through my already dishevelled russet hair. “Other person?” “The one who says pussy mileage, compares me to a whore…I…I think that is not entirely your own voice?” Her eyes were blue and crystal clear. They looked to be free of judgement, no longer narrowed or scowling at my very presence. Instead she remained sitting inside my bed, white covers up around her wi
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9. Cherish
It’s been three days since he grabbed me, and I haven’t said a single word to him. I go to the bathhouse, he goes to his training, sparring, whatever it is he does all day. I won’t be forced into anything I don’t want to do. I’d rather die. I’d tell him that too if we were talking but he appears to be waiting for me to cave. Instead I glower at him and read the same limited book again. More fool him. He ambles about coolly, my eyes still seeking glimpses of his muscular body as he wakes and retires each day. Each morning I hear him turn over in the bed, his face peering over from the high mattress, wondering if perhaps I was going to give up being frosty. Not a chance. Today he slammed the door as he left, clearly frustrated with me. Good. Provided with the modest clothes, Martha told me Vincent was away on business so there was no risk to us while I was in the room. Meaning Ivan could stay the hell away from me. Martha still came for me every morning though since she witnessed
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10. Ivan
The girl can hold a grudge that is for sure. She is far more hot-headed than me, which I think riles her up even further. Even I have my limits though. She has no concept of how much danger she could be putting us both in. Thank fuck Vincent is away on business and that Kingsley doesn’t like calling on me, otherwise we would be in serious trouble. Heading down to training I had hoped maybe this morning she would drop the childish act. A night of tossing and turning in my sleep has left me agitated. Koh now fills my head with vivid, colourful dreams when it has been blackness for so long. Such intense dreams, recalling the beauty of Silver City and its castle left me more tired than when I went to bed. To roll over and see a frosty, angry face that considers me a murderous demon does not help matters either. But the sparks. That brief contact had sent Kohl spinning in confusion, as much as he enjoyed it, he cannot place her wolf. Perhaps it has retreated from the trauma of her kid
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