Fated and Chained to the Beastly Alpha King

CALYRA VEYNE

The door flung open, and Calyra jolted up from her seat. It wasn't the suddenness of the door opening that frightened her this much; it was her father, Alpha Veyne of the Coastal Tidecliffs Pack, who entered with his ever deadpan face along with his men and Lady Lysa, her mother.

He scrutinised her from head to toe and walked closer to her, his ruthless hand clamped around her throat as she choked for breath; she dared not show the painful reaction to him.

"You better not disgrace me at the Binding Ceremony! If anything goes wrong tonight, I'd have your head on a spike and have your mother's womb carved out." He growled at her face, and Calyra nodded repeatedly as she fought for breath.

"Now get her moving!" Alpha Veyne ordered, the Delta guard's rough fingers dug into her arm as they dragged her out of the room. Calyra was used to this treatment all her life, and these horrible treatments from her father, who loathes her because she wasn't a boy or useful to him, had led to this day.

She had been groomed all her life to be bonded to the High Alpha King of the Nine Courts, the only reason her father had kept her alive, the only way she was useful to him.

Tonight, marking her 18th birthday, was set to be her mating ceremony with the High Alpha King Therion Vex, and everything was expected to be perfect; she was expected to be perfect, or she risked death.

Calyra had lived all her life wondering why she had been betrothed to the high king who had lived for a century. Though he remained 38 years old in appearance, that wasn't the issue. Why her in particular?

And this marriage pact to her father, Alpha Veyne, means raising the status of his house and pack; Calyra's shoulder weighed down heavily by all these expectations and stakes, even her mother's life is on the line.

She couldn't help as a shudder ran down her spine, her fingers cold as she was being transported to the moonspire, under the moon where vows and biting and markings would happen, where she would be claimed. Calyra wondered what the High King looked like, who he would be. She'd heard rumours of how ruthless and tyrannical he is, and this only scared her to death.

"Lyra?" She heard her mother's soft voice call; her face looked happy and assuring, but Calyra knew deep down she was nervous and scared for her daughter. Lady Lysa held her tiny hands softly.

"Are you nervous?" She asked,

"I guess, Mother, Father said our life depends on this. I'm scared for us." Calyra's face etched with emotions,

"It's okay, my love; let's look at the bright side... you'd become the Luna Queen and escape this hell that you go through in your father's house. Even your title will be above his."

But what if it doesn't go as planned? What if it turns out wrong? Calyra thought inwardly, and shudders ran through her spine again.

Calyra just smiled and nodded at her mother's reassuring words, and as she tucked her auburn, gold-threaded hair that shimmer under the full moon, Lady Lysa kissed her cheek softly.

Calyra hated that she and her mother had never truly lived but only survived in Alpha Veyne's home; he used their fear as leverage and always kept them under his finger, which infuriated her all the time, but she had been cruelly gentled a lot of times, so she would dare not show restraint on her face.

....

Then the heavy door of the sphere-shaped moonspire opened, and her father, Alpha Veyne, was called in. "Alpha Veyne of the Coastal Tidecliffs Pack and his lady wife, Lysa Veyne... Present with their daughter, Calyra Veyne of the Tidecliffs Pack." The herald called in, and Calyra saw her father's eyes looking at her mother and her with irritation and dangerous expectations; his gaze scared her to death.

As they approached the moonspire, the delta guards had formed a straight line that led up to the stage of the large auditorium that had the guests all waiting. The moonspire was wide and almost like a spherical shape, with walls that were made of marble and a roof made of glass to allow moonlight to shine in, everything made her heart pound fast.

And at the left side of the stage were the Nine Alphas Courts with different colours of cloaks that represented their packs, and on the main altar was the moon priest, and beside him was a tall figure in an unfamiliar, dark, intricate, majestic cloak and a crown of precious dark gemstones. Calyra needed no one to tell her that it was Alpha King Therion Vex of the Blackstone pack, the High King of the Nine Alphas Courts, her betrothed.

He turned to look at her, his eyes were deep with a vicious smirk; he smiled perversely and with dangerous expectations, and her heart rippled in fear.

"Calyra!" Her father called angrily, reminding her where she was standing and what she was expected to do when she reached the altar. She had been prepared for this all her life, and now she was failing already?

Calyra immediately bowed and stepped up the altar, and she dropped her cloak and then unravelled her corset rope until she stripped to nothing but her bare, stark naked flesh. The guests erupted in perverted gasps.

Therion smirked as he stalked toward her, the predator in no hurry. His hands claimed her breasts without hesitation, kneading them as if they were his property. Then, without warning, he pinched her nipples, very hard.

Calyra winced, a sharp breath catching in her throat as pain spiked through her. She clenched her eyes shut, desperate to detach, to let her mind drift somewhere far, far away-but it wouldn't. She just couldn't.

His fingers slid lower, tracing the trembling lines of her stomach, circling her navel, then gliding down her narrow waist. And then so abruptly they dipped between her thighs.

Calyra gasped.

His hand pressed against her female sex, fingers moving with ruthless curiosity, exploring her unwelcoming sheath like a man inspecting his conquest.

Her body shuddered involuntarily at the invasive touch; foreign, terrifying, and electric in its violation.

"Warm sheath," he murmured against her ear, voice low and taunting, thick with heat, so disgusting to her ear.

And then so suddenly and viciously, Therion's three middle fingers rammed into her sex, curled up like hooks, tearing through her purity, her resistance that had never been touched.

Calyra's scream was agonising, which ripped straight from her soul as her virginity was savaged, not taken but destroyed.

Her inner walls clenched and convulsed around the intrusion that was this animal's fingers, whilst torn and bleeding.

Her delicate vagina flesh gave way.

When Therion pulled his hand out, blood dripped thickly down his wrist. A wet, torn shred of her hymen clung between his fingers, so raw, so pink, and unmistakable.

Her body was throbbed with raw, burning pain, her heart even more wrecked seeing her blood slicked his fingers, and clinging to them was a thin strand of her flesh,

Therion raised his hand slowly and deliberately, a satisfy grin in his vicious smile, her blood and flesh their so called purity proof glistening under the torchlight, offered up for every watching eye to witness.

"Calyra Veyne of the Tidecliffs passes the purity test!" The gamma priests announced, and below the altar, amidst her pain and humiliation, her father smirked in satisfaction, whilst her mother couldn't bear to watch her daughter in pain; as always, she turned her face away whenever Alpha Veyne punished her.

Now it was time for Therion to claim Calyra; his hand gripped her by her throat so ruthlessly and he sank his fang into her neck. She screamed from the pain as fire emitted from within her, and she fell on her knees as dark smoke emitted from her body like black magic.

Was this how it's supposed to be? was marking a mate ceremony supposed to be like this?

And then she heard gasps and curses from the crowd.

"May the moon punish the cursed flame..." She heard this chorus from the crowd, and her heart dropped, and with a violent grip on her hair, Therion pulled her up to look at him.

"She is a dark smoke. She is a moonless flame, a cursed flame," Therion muttered as anger boiled beneath the surface of his eyes.

Calyra's heart couldn't stop beating hard, a cursed flame is worst and lowlier than an omega wolf, they bring about only destruction.

"This has to be a mistake!" Her father muttered down the altar.

"You dare bring a cursed wolf to us!" High King Therion roared before Calyra could speak or process this absolute failure.

"May the moon punish the cursed flame." The moon priest and the gamma priests chorused in a big gasp, and Calyra's body shook in fear... She was dead on arrival!

Calyra turned to look at her mother for help, but her father's hand clamped tightly around her mother's throat, and he slammed her against the wall.

"I told you, if things go wrong, I'd carve out your womb, your womb could not bear me a male, but it bore me a curse to embarrass me and weaken my Pack? it is of no use!" He growled.

"I'm sorry... My daughter is not cursed; this is wrong... Start the marking all over." Her mother cried, with terror in her face, and with a sickening and violent shove, Alpha Veyne stabbed her stomach with a crescent dagger and tore her womb out.

And she fell to the floor with a thud and breathed her last. Calyra watched in horror as a scream tore from her throat until Therion's fingers clamped around her throat so tightly and painfully as he shoved her against the wall.

"I, the Alpha of the Blackstone Pack, the High Alpha King of the Nine Alphas Courts, and the King of the realm, reject Calyra Veyne as my mate! And sentence her to the Beastly Alpha King Varos' dungeon as his feast!"

Pain rippled from Calyra's throat as her frail naked body fell to the marble floor in painful thuds, and tears streamed down her face. Everything she feared came to pass, and now she's been sentenced to the worst fate of all: to the Beastly Alpha King Varos' dungeon as his feast.

CALYRA VEYNE

Calyra huddled and crawled down the altar towards her mother's body, with pain torturing her heart, with tears blurring her vision and bile hurting her throat; she couldn't reach her when the sentinels of the moonspire started dragging her body, and her blood painted the marble floor red.

"No!!!" Calyra screamed when she finally gained her voice, but her throat was locked with an ironclad collar. Therion looked down at her.

"What will a High King do with a Dark Flame? I am cursed; why don't you stay so far away from me?" Calyra gritted her teeth with utmost rage, but Therion merely looked down at her with amusement.

"You are a special one..." He said as he trailed his fingers through her auburn hair, "Pretty, pure... It's been a long time since my beast have been fed a good meal. You will do just fine." He said mockingly with a perverted smirk, and Calyra scoffed.

"High King Varos is not your beast. He is the king you can never be... You pathetic usurper." Calyra spat with burning rage within her.

She undoubtedly struck a nerve on Therion, as his eyes burnt golden with a barely restrained rage; he thought all history books that talked about Varos as a king had been banned and burnt down, but a daughter of a coastal Alpha had been secretly reading books written by Varos' secret loyalist and propagandists.

"Little princess, so you are one of the propagandists?" Varos bent lower, closer to Calyra, his breath hot against her face, which terrified her to death. She knew nothing about this century-old history; she didn't even know enough about Varos, but she reckoned his name would pull a hair off Therion's skin, and it did more than that.

"The Varos that you dearly so revered, a century-old buried beast, he will feast on you tonight." Therion smirked with a vicious smile.

"Seize her!" He growled, and the delta guards sprinted toward her and shackled her legs and hands and dragged her by the collar around her neck like an animal. She was thrown into an iron cage-like carriage and transported to the Haralth Tower.

The memories of her mother continued to punish her: the screams, the panic, how her father had stabbed her. She wished that monster had never been her father; she would make him suffer the most excruciating pain imaginable.

Calyra sobbed throughout the journey in the freezing cold and blamed herself for her mother's death; if she was a moon flame, if she wasn't cursed as a dark flame, Lysa would still be alive.

She could see the giant gate of the Haralth tower opened, and she knew her life had moved from fire to lava. She couldn't bear giving in just like that without having a fight.

As the cage was opened by one of the Delta guards, Calyra sprinted forward, and the Delta guards stoned her with his sword sheath, and she tumbled down the rough floor whilst she yelped in pain; her private core still hurts like crazy between her thighs, and the other Delta guards laughed mockingly.

"Where do you think you are going, wench?" A resounding slap came across her face from the guard; she was too stunned by the sound that rang in her head.

Soon another delta came from a distance: "Alpha Therion wants her in the Nine Courts hall now."

Calyra was pushed into the chandeliers' lit, majestic throne room, with nine mighty stone pillars forming a circle, each with a throne present for these Alphas, in total debauchery indulgence.

With throngs of female sex slaves around their bodies, some of the Alphas were filling their monstrous-looking cocks into the mouths of the females as they gagged; she noticed some of these slaves had their teeth all pulled out, with only gums in their mouths thrusting around their mighty phalluses just to improve their pleasure and experience. They were something lower than a sex slave; they were sex objects.

The moment she entered the room, their gazes all washed upon her; one of the Alphas removed his long and thick cock and started masturbating whilst he fixed his gaze on Calyra.

Calyra immediately turned her gaze towards Therion, whose high throne was right in the middle; a slave was on her knees gagging on his phallus as he drank from his glass wine goblet.

"What do you want with me?" Calyra growled, and one of the Alphas stood up and walked up to her, hurling a resounding slap on her cheek, and she immediately tried to turn to him, and another resounding slap came across her left cheek; she was temporarily blinded as tears welled in her vision.

"When will you realise you don't talk when you haven't been spoken to; fucking Dark Flame?" The Alpha said as he kicked her rib till she fell to the floor and her nose started to bleed.

"Enough, Alpha Gomer. What will you want with her?" Calyra heard Therion's voice call whilst her body writhed in pain.

"I want to taste the heat between her thighs, the warmth of her cunt before she's tossed to the beast dungeon," Alpha Gomer growled, his voice thick with craving.

"You have my permission..." Calyra heard Therion say with a smirk, and her heart dropped as her gaze was fixed at him; she saw the glint of satisfaction, and then he added, "All of you can have her," he added, not breaking eye contact. Calyra's heart dropped when about five of the Alphas approached her.

Calyra was afraid, very afraid.

What strength does she have against Alphas? Five Alphas of the Nine Courts, for that matter; she couldn't fight back.

Alpha Gomer crouched behind her and forced apart her squeezed thighs. She couldn't move. Hands held her down. Fingers explored her naked flesh. Her heart was beating like a drum-as tears poured from her eyes like rain, no matter how hard she tried not to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Gomer's other hand slid down between her open thighs, and he slipped a single finger into her sheath-still raw, still bleeding from the wound of disflowering. Pain wracked her being.

He swirled the finger inside her tightness, thrusting it slowly as he stroked himself with his long phallus as he grinned at her with a depraved smirk.

"Is she tight?" another Alpha asked with a deadpan smirk.

"Very tight. And warm. And wet, Alpha Padain," Gomer said approvingly, sinking his finger deeper into her. Calyra cried bitterly.

Their hands were everywhere, violating every part of her exposed flesh. One finger was still forcing its way in. Another cupped her breast, causing all sorts of dirty, sullying pain. She kept shifting, flinching, seeking relief-but her skin met only slaps and smacks in return.

"Stay still!" snapped the uneasy Alpha Padain.

Calyra was utterly repulsed. They were like vultures, devouring her dead body. In that moment, she wished she were dead.

"We have the Beast ready for the game." A servant came to report to Therion, and then he raised his hands, and their ravaging hands seized from Calyra's body.

"To the game..." Therion said, and they howled in excitement, tossing her to the ground like she was a rag; she truly felt like one.

She lay there, unmoving, as the Alphas marched out-laughing, snarling-heading toward whatever fresh horror awaited at the "game".

Calyra stared after them, dazed, and wondered: what cruelty could possibly top what they'd already done to her?

CALYRA VEYNE

Calyra was pushed forward to walk faster out of the nine courts' throne room by the delta guards, wearing a very flimsy piece of clothing whilst she was being led harshly towards the opening arena where thousands of wolves cheered so loudly and savagely.

The death battle pit was situated deep in the middle of the arena, and where she stood in front of the Nine Alpha Courts, Therion stood up and raised his hands at the crowd, and their leering and cheering grew louder and deeper.

Calyra's eyes were red with pain, trauma and tear stains; she stood looking down the pit, anticipating something not less scary than what the Alphas did to her in the throne room.

Therion smirked with satisfaction seeing Calyra so broken before him, the cursed wench that dared to speak about Varos? A Varos loyalist and a cursed flame?

Calyra was everything Therion detested, and he detested even more that a cursed flame who had only lived for a measly eighteen years was now threatening him with an Alpha King he'd spent over a century taming.

Why was it so hard for them to forget Varos and accept him as their Alpha King already? He had ruled for so long while Varos remained weak-a broken beast beneath him-yet he never got the satisfaction he deserved.

There were still wretched loyalists out there, clinging to that fallen wolf. And this wench, Calyra Veyne, was one of them. He would teach her several lessons.

"High King."

Therion turned to his lower right, where Alpha Padain called, watching him with a sharp gaze.

"Every battle over the years, and still no beast or rogue has been able to kill Varos," Padain said.

"I know, Alpha Padain. But with every death match he's fought, he's come out weaker... gentled, even if he always survives," Therion replied.

"And you really think today will be any different? He'll win again. And all it'll do is remind the people that he's still the unrepelled Alpha King Beast of the century-just like he's always been."

"What are you getting at, Padain?" Therion snapped and continued. "The people already know he's a beast. He'll prove it again in this game, like he always does."

Padain countered almost immediately, his tone sharper now.

"But you sure have heard what the Null Binders said? Lately, they haven't been able to track his mind or his strength."

He took a step closer, his voice low but deeply concerned.

"You know damn well those Null Binders are your greatest weapon in subduing Varos. If the elite faction bound by blood pacts, tasked with subduing Alphas, controlling minds and poisoning sanity, could not keep track of Varos anymore, what hope do we have then?"

Padain paused, letting the weight of his words settle down on Therion, and Padain sat on his seat and focused on the arena.

Therion's hand clenched tightly on his throne arm. His gaze fell on Calyra, who was right in front of him, broken and battered. He growled, "Let the game begin!"

Calyra watched down the pit as two giant rogue contestants were called out; they were ripped and muscled, too roguish and cruel-looking,

Calyra shuddered in fear as the redhead rogue looked at her lustfully and thrust his long tongue between his index and middle fingers. Calyra stepped backwards with a repulsed expression, and this perverse behaviour made her wonder why she was standing here in the first place.

She had thought these two huge contestants were going to fight against each other, but her jaw dropped when the other giant gate creaked open and the entire arena went silent, totally silenced.

From the dark tunnel gate came out a beast. Calyra gasped at the stature of this godly-looking male; his long black hair with streaks of silver ash stuck to his sweaty skin, and his gold-ringed black eyes glowed red with a flaring rage.

He was a beast, yes! A 6'7" built like a warforged gladiator is a beast, with claws, gashes, untreated deep wounds, and multiple fatal scars from multiple fights on his skin, but he was undoubtedly the most handsome, ruthless male Calyra had ever seen.

His neck collared in rune-branded chains and his lower face masked with an iron muzzle further showed how dangerous he was; his aura alone made the crowds shudder from his slow prowling gait.

Calyra turned to look at Therion; she could swear she saw hatred, jealousy and threat, which he immediately masked with a casual wicked smirk. Calyra saw that even Therion was affected by this man.

Calyra's heart thudded fast with a tinge of a foreign weird sweetness when the beast's gaze fell upon her; it was cold, too inscrutable and expressionless. Calyra immediately carried away her gaze; she wouldn't want anything to do with this beast, and why was she made to stand here anyway?

Calyra turned back to look at Therion and yelled at his face.

"I won't stay here and watch this barbarity where males fight each other to death for the entertainment of you weak Alphas' twisted and sick gratification!"

Therion smirked with mockery and rather faced the rogue wolves who are fighting against Varos.

"If any one of you defeats the Beast Varos, you will have Calyra Veyne of the Tidecliffs as your mount for the night and your personal sex slave." Therion announced, and the thousands in the crowd yelled, going crazy as they chanted the rogue's name.

Calyra's heart dropped. She had been bound with two dangerous fates; she'd either be thrown in the beast Varos' dungeon or be taken to be mounted by any of these two perverted rogues. Now, whoever wins this battle doesn't matter to her; she was their prize.

Therion felt confident today. Varos seemed too weak; he had fought ten wolves in his cell before this battle, and he had sustained too many injuries, enough to kill him, but he didn't die. It is certain these two rogue beasts, who had never been defeated in a fight, will claw him in and out, and the existence of Varos will forever be forgotten.

The battle began, and the two rogues shifted into huge, formidable beasts as they pounced on Varos, who still remained in his human form.

The first rogue, black-furred with a jagged scar across his snout, launched at Varos from the right. The second, lean and silver-eyed, circled behind him with his teeth bared.

The first impact came hard. The black wolf slammed into Varos' side, knocking him off his feet. Dust burst up as they tumbled, and the crowd roared louder; Varos still didn't fight back. Calyra felt her knees go weak.

"Fucking shift!! They will kill you." Calyra didn't know why she yelled for him; she was shocked that she had involuntarily rooted for Varos, who was going to feast on her if he won. Why would she do that?

The silver rogue sank his teeth into Varos' leg, tearing flesh with a wet rip. Varos let out a low growl but didn't move. Didn't even try.

He didn't shift. He didn't scream. He just endured.

Therion laughed from his throne. "Rip the bastard apart!" Until a low rumble vibrated through the arena floor. It was Varos.

He clamped his massive hand around the Black rogue's head and crunched, and his bone gave way. A shriek of pain echoed, cut off mid-howl as the rogue's skull shattered like glass.

And blood sprayed. The silver rogue tried to leap away, but it was too late.

Varos lunged with a sudden blur of muscle and madness and slammed the other wolf to the ground with a snarl so guttural it silenced the whole arena for a heartbeat.

Then he tore into him. His ribs split like branches, flesh stripped from bone. The silver wolf screamed and kicked, eyes wide with terror as Varos disembowelled him, guts spilling into the dirt like steaming ropes.

The crowd didn't cheer anymore.

They watched in stunned silence as Varos, drenched in blood, staggered to his feet and looked up at Therion-eyes still burning red like a beast.

Calyra was too stunned, too frozen to the spot, at this male's strength and monstrosity.

Therion looked angry. "Then I guess Calyra Veyne belongs to you to feast on, then! Once again, The Beast Varos is too unsafe for our people, the madness too twisted, too dangerous; he will remain a prisoner forever until a suitable champion will be able to put him at rest."

Therion announced and Calyra's face was etched with shock. What does Therion mean by madness? A man faced with death, being ripped apart by morbid wolves, fought and defended himself, and Therion is calling it madness?

A madness they curated and construed? A madness they made happen?

"You dirty liar! That man right there is not mad! Let the man go!" Calyra yelled at Therion, but the Delta guards dragged her away, preventing her from attacking Therion.