FATED MATES: When They Touch Me

Fire Kingdom, The Realm of Red.

Pearl Jane felt the blow before she heard a slap across her face. It could have been nastier. It could have been a sucker punch. Those punches really hurt, especially coming from a man almost two times her size.

"You're going to be mine, little whore... mine," the smelly fat guy snickered as he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the blood-stained couch.

"Over my dead body!" Pearl grumbled under her breath.

"You have a big stupid mouth for a crazy bitch." The fat guy's hands moved down to the zipper of his pants, and she closed her eyes.

Disgusting.

She thought. Out of all the mess she'd gone through in her boring wanderer life, the one thing she thought she'd escaped was rape, but apparently Hell or whoever the heck was watching out for her shat the bed on this, too. "Don't bother with the lubricant, because based on the small size of that thing, I'll barely feel it," she replied with the same scowl on her face that made the rest of his gang laugh.

That did it. The fat dude glared at her, one fist raised in the air. It was hilarious to see him charging at her with his warrior pants falling down his legs. "You little bitch... I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget."

"With your fists, right? Because that little dick of yours looks pretty forgettable. I didn't even notice it. Poor thing."

Another deadly growl escaped his lips as he tugged at her hair, pulling so hard that her scalp was on fire. Bloody hell, that hurt.

She sneered, "I might be into some little kinky shit, but pal, take a class because you aren't doing it right."

"I'm going to make you suffocate to death on my dick, you little slut."

Over her dead body. Pearl pursed her lips, preparing herself to fucking die before she let the werewolf put his filthy little dick in her mouth. How could she be this stupid? Of course, she could kill the man in a blink, but risk her secret? Hell no!

"I've got other techniques to pry your mouth open." He smiled wickedly, "...boys!"

The two gigantic men who were sitting on the sidelines got up, finally ready to join the game. The younger one glances at Pearl before looking away, almost as if he was trying to say sorry. Not sorry enough to do something about her impending doom, though.

The other one-the tall, skinny one with disgusting brown zits covering his entire face-looks more cold and bitter. His dead eyes glint as his lips form a smile. "Perhaps we should plug all her holes and give her a truly good time that would let her scream."

"The fuck you will," a deep voice shrieked into the room.

Pearl can't stop smiling as the pale colour in the fat one's face drains, making him appear like a ghost. He glared at Pearl, getting ahold of his betraying face before anyone else glimpsed the nervousness lingering in his eyes. That was the thing with wannabe vultures like this man. He couldn't really stand the ordeal against someone who actually oozed power.

Her father was a feeble, cruel man-child who preyed on the weak in order to feel like he had some control over his miserable life. Pearl should know. She was his second-dearest prey, her mother his first. Bloody asshole of a king.

"This isn't any problem of yours, Ethan. The agreement was that we'd hand her to you unharmed. You... see any dents on her lovely little body?" His lizard green tongue slashed out as he licked his bottom lips.

The man called Ethan was enormous, like a freaking giant-all muscle, and his face looked like an angel, clean-cut, chiselled, and something that most women would stalk after and most men would fear. The grey three-piece suit he was wearing looked like something straight out of a French runway. It doesn't even make sense to find a man who looks like him in a dainty pub like this, but oddly enough, he looked like he could blend in anywhere. Pearl breathed in the heavy, delicious scent in the air and realized that the man was a warrior werewolf. A powerful one.

His posture was completely casual as if he didn't have a care in the world, but his dark eyes seemed like black pools ready to unleash all sorts of hell and sweet promises of sex. If it was possible to stare into the eyes of the devil, it would be this man's-dark, dangerous, and void of all emotion yet heated in all the right places.

His massive hand fidgets with a green lightning bolt, a werewolf who knows his magic. Very interesting, Pearl thought. The flame flickered on and off, a switch controlled only by him and no one else. "Look at me, asshole."

Guess the ugly fat one's name was asshole.

His body stiffened and his faint brown eyes went white; his hand dropped from his little dickland, and he staggered, struggling to pull up his pants, which pooled at his feet.

Ethan pushed off the wall. His slow actions were fascinating. For such an enormous man, he moved with such fluid beauty and elegance, like a lion, a lion king. Pearl was caught in some sort of magical sweet sensual trance and couldn't look away.

"Don't bother lifting your disgusting pants."

The asshole smiles, and Pearl's heart drops. Fuck. He was going to join him. Not only was she going to get raped, but it was going to be by a gang of gigantic dog men. She might have had some fucked-up sexual desires, but this one wasn't on the list. Not at all.

Ethan pinned her with his stare. His lips curve into a nasty, delicious smile. Him? She would do it, but the rest of the ugly ones? Hell, no!

He smiled again as if reading her thoughts. A smile, one meant to intimidate, not reassure, or a promise of delicious sexual escapades. He bends down, his warm knuckles caressing the same spot the fat one hit, the delicate touch with the anger-lust-filled look in his eyes. "You can get off that awful couch, woman."

Ethan doesn't have to tell her twice. Her ass gets up so fast that she gets light-headed. He grabbed the fat guy by the neck and lifted him; Pearl watched as his legs dangle in the air and his face turned ruddy from Ethan's cutting off his airway. "When I say she is to be unharmed, that means not one thing on her body can be touched by your dirty fuckin' hands. Every single fraction of her body belongs to me. Only to me. You thought you'd taste my belongings and walk away with no sort of retribution? How foolish are you, asshole?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think, boss," the fat dude squeaked. The green magical light flickered on and off in Ethan's hand, and the fat guy's eyes went wide. "What are you going to do, Ethan?" "No!" the poor man trembled.

Pearl smirked.

Ethan grinned, showing off flat, pearly white fangs. "You've heard the tales, haven't you?"

The fat guy shakes his head, making him look like a defected bobble head.

Ethan brings his green magical lightning to the guy's dick as the fume of burned hair fills the air. "You know what I'm capable of?" The fat guy's eyes go wide at Ethan's words. "You laid your hands on her. She is mine to taste. Mine!"

"No, please. I didn't touch her, I was just messing with her," the fatty werewolf begged.

Pathetic, Pearl thought. But hey! She doesn't belong to anyone. Not even to this hotty of a warrior.

Ethan laughed. The sound was manic. "Is that why she has a mark on her face? Because you didn't touch her?"

The fat guy shakes his head, eyes going wide. When he spoke, his voice was uncertain. "It was just a little pat. I didn't mean it. Just a touch," he mumbled as he looked at Ethan's hands, then whispered. "No! Please! Sire!"

Ethan hauls the fat guy over to Pearl, pushing his face so close to her face that she weeps at his foul breath. "That little red mark you left on her face. Does that look like just messing around? You marked her, little mutt, and now I'm going to make you pay."

"Please, Ethan. I'm sorry. I made a mistake. Let me make it up to you."

"I don't do second chances, big guy. You know that."

Then a blond gentleman who looked like a dead champion in beast mode with a ridiculous smile and large silver chains around his neck moved beside Ethan and poured a clear liquid on the fat guy's shaft.

Magical fluid.

Dark bile rises in the back of Pearl's throat, mixing in with the morbid enjoyment of the man getting what he deserves.

"You tried to take something valuable from me, and now I'm going to take something more valuable from you." Ethan declared with a wicked smile. The green flame from his hand moved along to the fat guy's dick, and the deafening sound of his screams reverberated in the pub as the others laughed.

Stumbling back, Pearl tried to compose herself. Her hands run down her body as if she was trying to even out hidden creases. "Well, thanks for the aid."

As she reached the door, a firm grip grabbed her wrist. "Not so fast, little princess."

Pearl Jane tried to shake his hold off her, but Ethan's hand just tightened; she winced from the pain. "It's sweet that you want to make sure I find my way home, but I'm perfectly fine, warrior. No need to go on helping me every time."

Amusement flashed in Ethan's eyes before it disappeared under a cold exterior. Something told her this man was used to looking cold over anything else.

"I'm not your saviour, little one. I'm the monster that's lurking in the dark."

"It's you!" she gasped.

"Nice meeting you, little one. You took something from me, I supposed."

She shivered.

It happened a year ago, just like she remembered it.

*****

"The banquet auction is next week, Pearl," her father, the king of the Fire Kingdom, in the realm of supernatural and magic, mumbled, his icy hands playing with a loose strand of her hair. She loathed it when he touched her. It was never the touch of a father, but that of someone who wanted something, something a father should never have. Something tattered and evil and creepy. She hated it.

Pearl's eyes searched her mother's face. She couldn't meet the eyes of her almost twenty-two-year-old daughter, the queen's gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the expensive carpet beneath her feet. "You going to say anything? Or are you okay with me being sold like some sort of magical mat in the street, mother?"

She stood beside her father, squeezing her hands, looking like the perfect little king's wife-complacent, peaceful, taking all his punches and abuse without saying a damn word.

The king stepped between them. His body brushes against Pearl's, making her feel sick to her stomach. "She does what she is told, just like you will if you know what's good for you, Pearl."

That was the problem with walled-in animals: they either get overthrown or learn to be darker and more terrifying than their captors. She was not the creature that wilted away like her mother did; she was the fighter, the one who would chew off her own limb to get the heck out and certainly out from this realm.

Over the years, Pearl had a front-row seat to her father peeling her mother's layers until only an empty shell stayed; her eyes that used to twinkle with light as they played and sang their songs started vanishing, leaving behind a chasm of tears and dismay, and surely a void of emptiness.

Don't worry, Mother. Soon he'll take you to the slaughterhouse and find himself someone new to ruin. She thought to herself.

Back straight, head held high, Pearl scowled her father down, refusing to look away from his spectacular angry stare. "I'm never going to let you sell me. You'll have to kill me first."

King Edward Jane cocked his head as if examining some bizarre and foreign species of alchemist known to this realm. Pearl guessed no one had dared challenge him before. They'd groomed her father to run the kingdom from the moment his foul, chubby face came out screaming from Pearl's grandmother's womb. He strode closer to her before bending down and murmuring, "Don't think I won't assume that, little child."

The stony smile and the icy blue gaze told her that her father wouldn't think twice about slitting the throat of his only daughter, because to him, she was a doll to be used and utilised until she broke and there was nothing left. Just an empty, broken shell, just like her mother, the kingdom's once most powerful alchemist. Now, an empty and powerless pillar of the realm.

"Yes, father, I understand," she lied. She would never understand, and tonight was when she would take the first step to getting control of her life in almost twenty-two years.

Being the daughter of one of the most infamous and powerful alchemists in the Realm of Red allowed her to have access to people and territories that the supernatural populace could never dream of. It wasn't because people, like werewolves, fae, and alchemists, like to hang out with her father and his minions; they fear the affliction that her father bids. Anxiety allows the king's name to carry way more weight than it should.

She had gotten an invitation to some even in the north, a high-class werewolf sex pub for the affluent and powerful. The Alphas, Betas, and mostly Lycan warriors, and some of the high-profile figures who visited the club were the reason that every patron had to wear a mask. A hidden identity means less of a liability.

The only reason she got an invitation, however, was because she caught Alpha Darkland, the Lycan Alpha of the North, fucking his stepdaughter. The likelihood of her spilling his dirty secret to his insane father petrified him. Darkland's family owns the high-end pub and every other sex club in the kingdom. Pearl had gotten herself into a problem with a signed pub warden. The thing said if she talked about the pub, they would kill her, the equivalent of telling her she'd be swimming with the fishes in the ocean. Pearl was not sure what they had to use against her since her only claim to prestige was being the daughter of the King.

So here she stood in front of the cast iron door that leads to the pits of hell, the dwelling of Lucifer himself. Okay, maybe not that sort of hell, but surely she got the idea. She was about to have sex with a random stranger just so she could stick it to her father and his demented plans. Or rather, her ticket to get the hell out of this realm.

The door hurled open, revealing a whole new world that seemed more depraved than the world she had already experienced, but this sort of sin was one that doesn't harm or use anyone else unless they want to be a victim.

The upper class of the supernatural brotherhood adored their kinks and needed them, but they didn't want to let the vice ruin the fraud playacting they'd created.

Famous alphas who like to wear diapers while they suck on a woman's tit, Fae leaders who like to be tied up on a cross and whipped, and distinguished warriors who have paraded around like little puppies, licking the shoes of their owner.

Pearl was about to head straight through those same cast iron doors and leave when a deep, sensual voice whispered in her ear, making her toes curl.

"You see anything you like, little one?"

Pearl tried to turn so that she could see his face. His firm hands move up to her waist, keeping her still, his touch a fiery brand on her skin. "Not yet, sweetheart. Be a good girl and stay still."

Pearl rubbed her legs together. She was like being smothered in magical fire and ignited into flames by the sandalwood-scented stranger. His voice was deep, one of those voices that could get her off by just saying hello. Damn hormones.

Get it under control, Jane.

She pushed back against him. If she was going to be a mess, then he sure as fuck would be, too. "What happens if I don't listen?"

A dark chuckle tickles her ear, the sound invading her body in ways it shouldn't. "Then sweetheart, you'll get punished."

Punished.

"Do I get to punish you back?"

He nipped at her ear lobe, which made her moan. "Normally I'd say no, but for you, I'd allow you to indulge if that's your kink."

The warmth of his lips grazes her shoulder, moving back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm. "I think you'll like the punishment my shaft, mouth, and hands will give. You won't have the energy to do much of anything else after I am done with you, little one."

Pearl tilted her head back. She had spent her whole life under the control of men, but this time she was allowing it. No one was forcing her. She didn't even know what this guy looked like, and she was already completely under his control. It was frustrating and excruciating all at once. A formidable warrior. She thought he was a Lycan. A powerful werewolf who could wield magic. Odd and refreshing, indeed.

Control. That was something she never had, and now it was all up to her... not to mention the move would piss off her father. And her ticket out of this realm.

Two birds, one stone. "What are you waiting for, Lycan?"

Ethan was merely an observer at the pub. He never sampled the goods. After all, he was supposed to be in the shadows, just a watcher, a warrior, waiting for something... He hangs out the establishment for the secrets it unlocks. That was what the draw was to a place like The Secret Pub. It was drowning in secrets. Werewolves, Fae, and alchemists alike. Ethan learned from a young age that knowledge was power, and there was no knowledge more powerful than the sinful desires people hide from the rest of the world.

Once you have the darkest desires of powerful men in your hands, you suddenly become the one with control, and that's what he has always craved. Control. Powerful men will go to any length to keep their skeletons hidden away in the closet.

Then a woman stepped into his vision, like the sun eclipsing the entire world around it with radiance and warmth.

He chuckled as soon as she came into his view. An alchemist, a powerful one. He smirked as he saw her shuffle her feet and keep her eyes glued to the floor beneath her, probably shocked at the depravity she was witnessing. She doesn't really look like she belongs here. That's what Ethan likes-her innocence, raw and pure. She was hesitant, wearing a novice outfit, a black leather dress with a warrior full-body leather woman, and a dark leather mask. He had always had a bit of a thing for warriors, especially alchemists.

When his fingers touched her skin, it was fire, but not the fire he had become accustomed to. The flames did not cause pain, dragging her and anyone else who came into his path to the fiery pits of hell, like a magical fire of lust and passion. Who could blame him? He was a fire lycan. A higher species of a werewolf with magical abilities. The four elements: water, fire, air, and earth, and he was the fire Lycan, the most powerful wielder of magic.

Yet, his fire now was the type of fire that can purify someone's soul; magical, full of passion and lust; the type where one lick can have someone trapped, willing to be its slave for all eternity. But Ethan couldn't be a slave. He can never be under anyone's foot again. He takes what he wants and leaves. Just one taste.

"Punishment is my specialty, little one," he said before nipping at the woman's bare shoulder. She jerked in his arms, then leaned back and relaxed. From the corner of his eye, Ethan noticed a Fae leader watching them. When he made eye contact, the fucker smirked, his hand moving against his dick, trying to cause friction. Pathetic.

Ethan narrowed his eyes at him, letting him know to keep his eyes elsewhere. The Fae just rubs his dick harder. He knew what he was about to do was crazy and it could fuck up everything, but he didn't give a fuck. "I'll be right back, little one. Stay here."

Ethan dropped her hand and marched right up to the Fae. He had the nerve to look turned on like he was about to drop to the floor and worship his tiny dick. Ethan's hands grab his face. His mouth parts. His smirk matched his, but it was not one of lust or desire. It was one of death and blood, the one he had worn his entire adult life. Ethan's thumbs move up from his face until they circle the outside of his eyes. "I don't fuck around, Fae. I don't care who you are!"

The gigantic, Fae warrior who wore nothing but a loin cloth and a mask just smirked, his oblong ears twitching.

It took a second for his words to register, a second too late. Ethan's thumbs dug into the fucker's eyes. He screamed, not realizing the more he screamed, the more it egged him on. That was his thing. He liked the screams, hearing the pain they felt. The pain dragged him to his knees.

He slammed his head against the wall, not once, not twice, but three times. Neon's blood splattered on the cold dark tile ground, followed by his limp body. "Don't ever look at what belongs to me again," Ethan murmured, puncturing each word with a kick.

"Yes, my lord." The Fae responded with shiny neon blood on his mouth as he bobbed his head.

"Good, now, begone!" Ethan whispered.

Moving back to the beautiful leather-covered stranger, Ethan grabbed her hand and started dragging her away. "Come on, little one."

Panic was laced in her words, causing Ethan's shaft to harden. "You just fuckin' kicked the shit out of him, and I'm not sure what else you did. I think he's bleeding." She glanced down at his hand. "Your thumbs look like they've been in a bloodbath."

Ethan's gaze locked with the blood, and he winced. He should've kept his damn cool and stayed calm like he usually does. He doesn't just lose it. He turned to her and snapped, "It's fine, little one."

She stopped moving, and for the first time, he could see fear flashing in her eyes. Fuck.

"The bastard knows the deal. He is a Fae, he would heal in no time and you know that."

Ethan expected her to rip her hand out of his grasp and storm out of there, but she didn't. Instead, she licked her lip as if what she saw actually turned her on. The girl makes his head spin, keeping him on his toes, something no one's been able to do for the past fifty years.

"Aren't we going to get kicked out?"

"No."

"How are you so sure?"

"I know everyone's secrets," Ethan smirked.

"Where are we going?"

"Someplace private, little one. These men keep looking at you, and I'm not in the mood to light them all up. I'd rather terrorize your body." Pulling her to his side, his hand firmly holding onto her waist, he bent down to whisper in her ear. "Would you like that? Me making you scream?"

Her bottom lip slides between her teeth. "Oh hell, yes!"

Okay. Ethan never thought that word would sound so magical and sensual, but on her lips, it was like someone had just informed him that he had won the damn world. He didn't know what the heck was wrong with him. All he wanted now was this woman.

Though, women have never really been his thing. That was why he only fucked the ones who knew the score. He used them, they used him, and after they both went nuts, one of them got the heck out. There were no tender moments or a desire to bring them so much pleasure that the world under their feet would shatter and their eyes would see stars. But this one, the little alchemist, Ethan wanted her to not only experience the stars but to transport her to a completely different realm and own her. He wanted his shaft to be a conductor, making her entire body play a symphony she'd never forget.

Ethan opened the door to one of the VIP rooms, a four-poster bed in the middle, with dark satin sheets. The place looked like a Fae-style brothel from the past. The wall was ordained with whips, chains, and floggers, and a Fire Kingdom symbol even sits in one corner. The orange fire of power.

The woman's gaze takes in the room, her plump mouth slightly open, her delicate hands rubbing against each other. "I'm not really sure if all this is what I had in mind."

He wrapped his arms around her and trailed kisses from her shoulder to her earlobe. "I don't need these toys. I can make you scream."

Her breathing sped up, her head falling back, and her body relaxing in his arms. "What do you need?"

She moaned when he grabbed her and tossed her on the bed. Her mask shifted, but she recovered, moving it back into place. "I'm not a freaking rag doll, lycan! You can't just toss me around."

"Isn't that why you came here, to be someone's little doll, or is your thing being the puppet master?"

He doesn't like it when she glances away from him. He wanted her eyes on him at all times. It was already hard enough to sense what she wanted with that stupid mask on her face. "No, I don't want to be the one in control. Um, that doesn't really work for me."

"Good, because I don't enjoy giving up control. Take the mask off."