Sadist

AURELIA

Kings of the past had made the mistake of treating their queens as equals. They weren’t. Alastair was in a league of his own, and he always would be.

You could call it pride or arrogance, but Alastair was above everyone else; no one could match his strength or power. Especially not the little wolf who was suffering in his dungeons.

She was beautiful and tempting, but he wouldn’t let the mate bond sway him.

Her sapphire eyes and golden hair meant nothing to him.

Her small nose that twitched when she was angry. She was delicate, but he saw a strength and defiance in her that he hadn’t seen in other wolves.

“My king,” his beta, Laurent, bowed as he entered the king’s war room. Alastair was always plotting and scheming, just like a king should.

The fae had been driven out of his kingdom, but they had gathered outside of it, building a new world.

Centuries ago, during the reign of Alastair’s father, Bronimir, the fae had risen against the crown, against the werewolves.

So the wolves hunted the fae, searching villages for any trace of them. They tried to expand their search into unknown lands, but a magical border stopped them.

Wolves couldn’t cross the border without the fae’s permission. And the fae couldn’t enter the wolf kingdom.

Alastair ordered patrols at the borders, in case the fae dropped their guard and tried to invade. They were growing stronger every day, threatening Alastair’s rule.

Only they could.

As confident as Alastair was, he knew the fae all too well.

“What is it?” Alastair growled.

Laurent was his second-in-command, a close ally. But he was still a subject. He bowed, respected his king, and followed orders without question.

“What should we do with the other young women you took from the queen’s village, your grace?”

“I don’t care what happens to them. And call her by her name. She’s not a queen.”

“My apologies, my king. Do you want them all killed?”

“Did I say I wanted them dead?” Alastair snapped. “Send them back to their village.”

On second thought, maybe they could tell him something about his mate.

He called one to the throne room and sent the rest back to their village. He couldn’t kill all their young women. That’s how species go extinct.

The others had annoyed him with their crying and whimpering. Their king showed them no sympathy.

A young woman stood before him, her head bowed and her hands shaking with fear.

“What do you know about Aurelia?” Laurent asked, speaking for the king. The king was just there to intimidate and didn’t bother with talking to this woman.

He hadn’t even questioned the other women until Aurelia came into his throne room. He had only killed the other girls for his amusement and to satisfy his bloodlust.

“M-my sister, my lord?” the woman stuttered, tensing up and lifting her eyes slightly.

Laurent looked back at the king with a raised eyebrow, and he nodded for him to continue. So the little wolf had family she cared about. A weakness. Good to know, the king thought.

“Tell me what you know about her.”

“She’s n-normal. Just a normal wolf.”

The king didn’t believe that. The enchantment he put on the dungeon was to prevent any prisoners from escaping. None did. His guards were well trained.

He had trusted guards outside the little wolf’s cell, but she had escaped. They admitted to helping her. But why? They wouldn’t say.

“A normal wolf? She’s anything but. Your sister is the king’s mate,” Laurent said in a threatening voice, trying to scare the young woman. But she didn’t seem scared.

The truth was, although Olympia didn’t care much for her younger sister, she didn’t want to see her hurt either. It was her duty to her mother to protect Aurelia as best she could.

When she heard that her sister and the brutal Alpha King were mates, she knew she couldn’t fulfill that duty.

“S-she... she isn’t anything special,” Olympia stammered.

She had always known about her sister’s... uniqueness. It wasn’t until the incident that she realized how powerful it was. She was honestly scared of it, like the others in the village.

But her sister hadn’t let the power corrupt her.

“Guards!” the king roared, scaring the woman. “Put her in a silver cell, far from her sister. That will be her new home.”

She didn’t know what that meant, but she would find out soon enough. The guards took her away, leaving the king alone with his thoughts.

Aurelia was on his mind. He wondered how she was doing in his dungeons. Each time, he stopped himself from checking on her. He couldn’t show any concern for her.

How could the little wolf give him more power?

Alastair’s heart was hard. It wouldn’t melt for anyone. It wouldn’t ~belong~ to anyone.

He would ask the high priests. Maybe they could tell him how she could help him fulfill his destiny. Aurelia must be useful for producing heirs—boys who would strengthen his rule.

He called them to his court and waited for them in the throne room. Many people had been in that room, and many had been killed by his hand.

The guard who had handled the king’s mate too roughly had paid with his life.

“Bow before your king!” the announcer shouted as warrior wolves marched in with High Priest Adalric Ethalowae of Hallerian.

“My king, you called for me,” he said, bowing in submission.

“Leave us,” the king ordered, making the other wolves scatter like bugs.

Once the room was empty, the king glared at the high priest with pure contempt. He enjoyed making his subjects squirm under his gaze.

“Tell me about this prophecy you mentioned,” the king demanded.

“The visions have intensified since you found her, sire.”

“How did you know I found her?” The king’s eyes narrowed, suspicion etched on his face.

“Your majesty, we’ve seen it unfold. Your destiny is tied to hers. A chain of events will occur, leading to choices. Those choices will determine the path you both tread.”

“She’s just a young wolf with the strength of an omega. How can she possibly empower me?”

“I don’t have the answers, sire. But her youth doesn’t reflect her power. We’ve seen her on a throne next to you, in both paths. She’s destined to be a queen.”

“If I choose otherwise, she won’t be.” He didn’t like the idea of having no say in this. If he wanted her as his queen, she would be. If not, she wouldn’t.

“Sire, prophecy is a powerful thing. She’ll be queen, whether you’re on the throne next to her or not. Your choice of path won’t change that.”

“Whether I’m next to her or not?” The king rose from his throne, his voice a venomous hiss.

“I’m only sharing what we’ve seen. I didn’t mean to offend.” Adalric groveled like the spineless rat he was.

The entire order would switch loyalties to the fae in a heartbeat if they thought they’d win. Their loyalty was as fickle as the wind. But they had their uses.

“You may leave,” the king ordered, his tone laced with irritation.

He didn’t like the answer he got. This young wolf would be a thorn in his side.

What the king didn’t know was that as soon as Adalric returned to Hallerian, his brothers had seen new visions in the smoke, of both the young wolf and the Alpha King, side by side on the throne.

And that was a fact; it would happen.

Alastair decided to pay her a visit. As he descended the winding steps to the tunnels, he gathered his thoughts.

Arriving at her cell, he wore a menacing smirk, thinking of ways to torture her into submission. But the young wolf had passed out.

He hoisted her over his shoulder and left. She’d had enough punishment. It wasn’t fun if she wasn’t awake to feel the pain.

Everyone he passed looked away, not daring to meet the gaze of the furious king. The king’s guard followed closely, staying outside his chambers as he entered with the girl.

He wouldn’t have carried anyone else or exerted himself for anyone else, but this was his mate, and no other wolf would touch her like this.

He placed her head on his pillows and sat next to her with a sigh. He had plans to make, a strategy to annihilate the fae once and for all, but here he was, watching the young wolf sleep.

“Alastair...,” she murmured in her sleep. His eyes snapped to her. No one spoke his name. Very few even knew it. She was a young wolf from a remote village. How did she know his name?

Yet, hearing his name from her lips was exhilarating.

He wasn’t easily excited. It was a rare emotion for him. As were happiness and contentment.

She gasped and woke up, panting. Her eyes darted around the room before landing on the king.

“Your grace,” she whispered, her gaze locked on him. “Where am I?”

“Where does it look like?” he snapped back.

“Somewhere I shouldn’t be,” she retorted, matching his tone. The young wolf was fighting back, something no one had done against Alastair since the fae.

“Watch your tongue, little wolf.” She flinched at his tone, which pleased him greatly.

“Why?” she asked.

He didn’t have an answer for her. No one dared to talk back. No one dared to question him.

“I’m your mate, whether you like it or not. I may not be a feared king but I’m not one of your submissive subjects. I won’t be. You can throw me in a thousand silver cells.”

Her bravery didn’t go unnoticed by the king, as much as her attitude infuriated him. It seemed to be a defiance she didn’t even know she possessed.

“Oh, little wolf, I’m not just a feared king.” He crawled on top of her, pressing his body against hers roughly.

“I’m unlike anyone you’ve ever met.” His eyes glowed a deep crimson, as if filled with blood.

“That is... Wha...? You are...” She was speechless. Mouth agape. Eyes wide with pure, unadulterated fear.

“Don’t presume to know what I am, little wolf. Just know that I’m far more powerful than you,” he hissed, his words sinking into her understanding at last.

Rumors had kept the masses in check; they didn’t defy him. She needed proof of his power. And now she had it.

Her body trembled beneath him as he refused to move. His fingers traced the sides of her body, touching bare skin where her dress had torn.

A wicked, hungry smirk spread across his face as he parted her legs to rest between them. She couldn’t stop him, nor did she want to. She was too terrified. And aroused. He could smell it.

He had demon eyes. She didn’t know how that was possible. But she suddenly understood that he shouldn’t be underestimated.

His power was enticing, as was his scent. She was drawn to him in a way that was unforgiving. He was the embodiment of evil.

His hand slid down and up under her dress, caressing her bare thighs. His other hand gripped her neck, squeezing tightly so she could barely breathe. And it stayed there as he continued.

“Do you like it rough, little wolf?” She couldn’t speak. His grip was tight but not violent.

She wasn’t a masochist, but she enjoyed the pain he was inflicting. And he enjoyed inflicting it. He would describe himself as a sadist.

“You will obey my every fucking word. Defy me again and I’ll show you what ruthless means.”