Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 9

Adelaide

The morning sun cast long shadows through my cell window when Giselle's gentle touch roused me from restless sleep. Her face bore an expression of deep sympathy that immediately set my nerves on edge.

"My lady," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I must prepare you for tonight's ceremony."

As she helped me into the simple slave attire—rough brown cloth that scratched against my skin—her words painted a picture that made my blood run cold.

"It's an ancient tradition," she explained, her hands shaking as she braided my shortened hair. "The new slave presentation ceremony. Tonight, under the full moon, the three legion commanders and their subordinates will... select their preferences."

The way she said 'select' made my stomach churn. "What do you mean?"

Giselle's eyes filled with tears. "Some will be chosen as household servants, but others..." She swallowed hard. "Some wolves will take their chosen slaves immediately, right there in front of everyone. The entire ceremony often becomes a... a sexual frenzy."

My face went pale, but I forced myself to remain steady. This was horrific, but it was also an opportunity to observe the wolf social structure firsthand.

We arrived at a massive circular stone hall, its ceiling open to the night sky where the full moon hung like a malevolent eye. Dozens of new slaves already stood in the center of the arena-like space. My heart leaped when I spotted a familiar figure among them.

"Thalia," I breathed, pushing through the crowd to reach her side.

She turned at the sound of her name, and relief flooded her features when she saw me. Despite her pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes, she managed a weak smile. We stood close together, drawing strength from each other's presence without daring to speak.

The three legion commanders sat on elevated stone platforms like ancient judges. Draven's expression was grave and silent, radiating stern authority. Vespera's eyes held barely concealed sympathy. But Garrick... Garrick surveyed each slave with the calculating gaze of a predator selecting prey, his eyes gleaming with hungry anticipation.

The selection began without ceremony. Wolves stepped forward to claim their choices, some pointing to specific individuals while others seemed to select at random. I watched in horror as chosen slaves were immediately stripped of their clothing, their naked bodies displayed for all to see before being dragged away to darker corners of the hall.

The sounds began almost immediately—pained cries, desperate pleas, and the wet slap of flesh against flesh. The scent of fear-sweat and arousal filled the air, creating a nauseating cocktail that made my stomach churn.

When Thalia was pushed toward the front of the group, Garrick rose from his chair with fluid grace, his voice carrying easily across the hall. "This one," he declared, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze raked over her body. "She'll do nicely for my personal collection."

But before anyone could move to comply, Draven stepped forward, his voice low but unmistakably firm. "This female has already been designated as the Wolf King's property. She is not available for selection."

Garrick's expression darkened, but then that cruel smile spread across his features again. "Of course," he said smoothly. "How thoughtless of me. But surely our great king won't mind if I... test her quality first? To ensure she's worthy of serving him?"

He gestured dismissively at Thalia. "Remove your clothes, girl. Let us see if you're fit to serve in the royal chambers."

The hall erupted in crude laughter and encouraging shouts from the watching wolves. Thalia's face went white, but she lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to move.

Draven's hand moved to his sword hilt, his body coiled with tension. "This is an insult to the Wolf King's dignity," he said, his voice carrying a warning that made several nearby wolves step back. "Even you, Lord Garrick, have no right to touch what belongs to him."

The air between them crackled with potential violence, and for a moment I thought they might come to blows right there on the platform. Then Garrick's attention shifted, and those predatory eyes locked onto mine.

"Very well," he said, his tone deceptively casual. "Then perhaps this new arrival will suffice. I don't suppose anyone will object to my claiming this one?"

He was down from the platform before I could react, his massive hand closing around my upper arm with bruising force. "You'll do perfectly," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "I can smell the fear on you. It's intoxicating."

I looked desperately toward Draven, but his expression remained carefully neutral. Whatever protection Thalia enjoyed as the "Wolf King's property," I clearly didn't share. I was just another human slave, and my fate was Garrick's to decide.

"Strip," Garrick commanded, his voice loud enough for the entire hall to hear. "Let everyone see what I've chosen for myself."

My hands shook as I reached for the hem of my tunic. There was no escape, no rescue coming. Whatever dignity I could preserve lay in how I handled this moment. I forced myself to meet Garrick's gaze as I slowly pulled the garment over my head, letting it fall to the stone floor.

The moonlight painted my naked skin silver, and a collective murmur of appreciation rose from the watching crowd. I could feel hundreds of eyes on my body, evaluating, appraising, hungering. But I kept my chin up, refusing to show them the terror that threatened to overwhelm me.

Garrick circled me like a predator, his eyes devouring every inch of exposed flesh. When he moved behind me, I felt rather than saw him studying the space between my shoulder blades where my birthmark should be visible—thankfully hidden by Thalia's magic.

"Beautiful," he pronounced, coming to stand before me again. His hand shot out without warning, roughly grasping my left breast and squeezing until I gasped in pain. His fingernails dug into my nipple, sending sharp spikes of agony through my chest. "Perfect size. And so responsive."

Before I could steel myself, his other hand forced its way between my thighs, thick fingers probing roughly at my most intimate places. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

"Already wet," he announced loudly, his fingers invasive and cruel as they pushed deeper inside me. "Look how eager this little human bitch is to be fucked by her betters."

The hall erupted in laughter and jeering comments that made my cheeks burn with shame.

"Please," Thalia's voice cut through the noise as she suddenly broke free from her guards and rushed toward us. "Stop this! You have no right—"

Garrick's backhand caught her across the face with a crack that echoed through the hall. The blow sent her sprawling, blood streaming from her nose as she hit the stone floor hard.

The sight of my dearest friend bleeding because she'd tried to protect me finally broke something inside me. Tears I'd been holding back spilled down my cheeks, and in that moment of absolute despair, my mind cried out in wordless anguish.

Without conscious thought, a name formed in my heart—not spoken aloud, but felt with desperate intensity: *Lycanthar.*

The response was immediate and terrifying.

A howl erupted from somewhere deep within the castle, a sound so primal and powerful that it seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. Every wolf in the hall froze, their heads snapping toward the source of that earth-shaking cry. Even Garrick's hands stilled on my body, his face suddenly pale with shock.

The howl came again, longer and more furious than before, filled with such raw fury and possessive rage that several wolves actually whimpered and backed away. It was the voice of something ancient and terrible, something that had been sleeping but was now very much awake.

In the stunned silence that followed, one thought echoed through my mind: the beast king had heard my call.

And he was not pleased.