His Breeder

"Thief! Stop her!"

The crowd barely had the opportunity to part when the girl torpedoed through their bustling bodies, swerving and dodging with all the precision she could muster. Her dirt-stained shawl unwound from her neck and billowed before her eyes like the wings of a trapped bird, briefly obscuring her vision, but her hand was quick to dart out and clutch it.

Huffing shortly and raggedly, diamonds of perspiration glimmered on her dark brows as she ran and they trailed over her brown eyelids before dripping into either eye, making her blink. But the stinging sensation was numbed by the burst of adrenaline that surged through her veins like white fire.

Alessia cast a brave glance over her shoulder at the approaching guards from behind, led by three brown wolves with teeth bloodied and bared, ears pricked forward in a vengeful need for retribution.

Fucking hell. Could they run any faster?

She elbowed and shoved her way through the bodies pressing in from either side. The marketplace air was staunch with the rancid smell of sweat, metals, gunpowder, spices, and cheap perfumes, but they were familiar scents to the girl. She leapt over a cart of over-ripened fruits dotted with fruit flies, her ankle catching one of the apples that slipped and rolled away.

"Excuse me," Alessia panted, half-heartedly sucking her stomach in and slipping sideways between strangers. "Pardon, sir- he means the other thief, not me-"

It was barely noon with the sun a pale sphere of persimmon to the east that glowered its ardent hues of orange and purple across the skies. The scorching weather, hotter than satan's ball sacks, did little to benefit the little thief as it wrapped tendrils of heat around her exposed, brown limbs. And yet somehow, they continued to pump and carry her through the market like a thread being yanked from one end.

"Someone stop the fucking mutt!"

Alessia ducked under a low stall roof when suddenly, she was yanked back; the insidious hands around her throat caused her to let out a strangled gasp, only to realise what had caught her.

A nail. Her shawl snagged on a fucking nail.

Desperately turning, Alessia fumbled with the material caught on the hook whilst gazing fearfully and wildly at the wolves closing in. "Come on, come on, come on," she pleaded to herself. Her fingers trembled recklessly as she tried and tried again to remove the snag. When her attempts came to no avail, she yanked it hard, hoping her strength would rip it somehow.

"You!"

Her head snapped up at the voice to find that one guard was gaining on her.

Glancing back at the shawl, the internal conflict that raged within her diminished to a conceding grunt. If a scarf was to be the cause of her demise, she'd never forgive herself. And so Alessia grudgingly unlooped the fabric from around her neck and took off in the other direction, leaving it billowing on the tack.

She could feel the market people's eyes on her as soon as she'd left the post. As she sprinted ahead, the thick, dark ringlets of her hair came loose and fell like curtains about her countenance, one strand glowing as if it had been touched by the moon among the nest of inky blackness.

A streak of white.

The mark of an Omega.

Omegas were not rare in the sixth kingdom of Ithaca. They made up the lower quartile of the population while the other wolves made up the majority, and the Elite made up the final eighth. What was rare, however, was to have an Omega steal so shamelessly and openly; and to see one without their shawl, their only shield from a world they were not welcome in. At least, they were not welcome until noon when a majority of the better goods had already been traded off and all that remained was the scraps and rotted pieces, or those items unworthy of being sold to nobility.

But Alessia had broken every rule: leaving before noon, stealing high-end items, and surrendering herself to the rebuke of the superiors around her.

Her mind, which had always run along straight and candid lines, blurred over with a fog of adrenaline. Years of mastery thieving seemed like mere seconds at the thought of getting caught. It was rare for such an occurrence to happen, yet in a moment of utter recklessness whilst swiping items from the foreign gypsy tradesmen, her false sense of bravado had her forgetting to check sideways for onlookers and most importantly, for the owner.

Maker, Alessia desperately prayed to the Moon Goddess above. If I survive tonight, I swear never to steal and to live a life of honesty from now on.

...Or just for a little while, but She didn't need to know that.

Fear twisted like a dial inside the girl as she rounded a sharp corner and dashed into the alley. The soles of her worn-out sandals slapped against sodden concrete. A skinny rat darted out from a hole in the wall, briefly distracting her and making her stumble.

One moment she was standing and the next, her world was turning. Her body slammed to the ground, hard enough to rattle her teeth beneath pursed lips, but all she could do was curse that cursed rat. Barely did she register the pain when vice-like hands were gripping either forearm and hauling her off the floor.

A rush of cool air brushed Alessia's face moments before the back of a hand connected with her cheek. The silver rings cut through her skin and burned the flesh on impact. It sent her head flying. Eyes wide, hair sticking to her face, the stinging sensation in her cheek dissolved into her mouth as the metallic taste of blood danced on her tongue.

Stunned, she stared at the wall of the alley with a sort of dazed expression before tentatively rolling her tongue around, then shifting her jaw back and forth to test its placement. Not broken. Cautiously, she raised her head to face the harrowing figure poised before her.

"Where is it?" he demanded, wild-eyed.

Alessia swallowed the blood in her mouth. "Where's what?"

The second slap felt like a clap of thunder across her unmarked cheek, the velocity of his hand brutalizing her ear and starting a hum of rings that tunnelled through her.

She didn't have time to recover before the same hand was grabbing her jaw and yanking her face back to his. The guard's hot, rancid breath steamed against her parted and panting lips as eyes full of venom gazed down into her own. "I will not ask you again."

The little barrel of her chest rose and fell rapidly as she dared to bare her bloody teeth at him. "You hit like a milk-fed catamite."

In hindsight, Alessia knew stirring the wolf's anger was not wise, especially when he had two other men who were more than willing to pin her to the wall behind once those words left her mouth. For a moment, he stared at her, almost amazed by her foolish courage, only for such an expression to melt into an uncanny smile.

"I suppose I can break a few bones before interrogating," he said almost nonchalantly. The girl gulped as he started to roll his sleeves up past his forearms, revealing aged tattoos and scars. His hands were what she focused on, however: the roughness to each palm; large enough to cover her whole face; and the absurd number of rings which he began to pull out from his pants, drawing them on one-by-one before flexing his fingers into beefy fists.

"H-Hey now, catamites are pretty boys and-"

"Hold her steady."

Those simple words were enough to lance a wave of panic through her. She began to wriggle in her captor's arms but it was no use.

The first punch volleyed at her vulnerable gut and she doubled over with a wheeze, only to be jerked upright. "I said hold her steady," he growled at the men's lack of coordination.

The punches were brisk and perfunctory thereafter: aimed at the belly until she wheezed, the ribs until they snapped, her nose which dislocated at the bone, and the final driving blow to her diaphragm, expelling all air from her shriveled lungs.

Their hands left her body and she swayed on the ghost of her knees before toppling to the floor, landing in a crumpled bloody mess with a thump.

"Is she dead?"

Alessia felt a boot nudge her achy side and she groaned in turn, pressing her face into the cold gravel that scraped her skin. Her body curled in on itself to prevent more blows, but there was nothing other than a soft gurgling sound and a heavy thump of spit landing on her exposed neck. It was warm and thick, making her skin crawl.

"No."

"Check her for the item."

Hands began to pat down her sides, roughly grabbing and pulling her limbs aside before fumbling beneath her torn cloak, then shirt. They groped her non-sexually for no one desired an Omega and they were perhaps the least sexually assaulted species in the wolf kingdom.

Who would want to breed a population loathed by many, if not all?

"Nothing," muttered one of them and their hands left her briskly.

Alessia gazed after their retreating figures as a foggy haze slowly clouded her vision. It was like the onset of glaucoma, a murk of white and grey that crawled in from the sides. With much effort, her chest rose and fell in a staccato rhythm, growing heavier and deeper as tendrils unhurriedly wrapped around her body in a numbing cocoon and she succumbed to the darkness.

When she next woke, it was to the dull pattering of rain on her body. Cold rivulets of water thinly trailed down her russet skin and pooled beneath her bruised, shivering body. The fragrance of petrichor was faint in the air yet brought a sense of reality to Alessia.

She blinked in the dark alley, then braced a palm on the ground to slowly rise.

"Maker-" Alessia hissed between gritted teeth as she pressed a palm to her side. The pain lanced through her, jolting a fresh wave of heat at the back of her eyes. She stayed like that, half-kneeling in the gravel while struggling to draw in measured breaths, afraid that if she breathed too deeply, her expanding lung may puncture from a broken rib.

Eventually, the pain abated to a tolerable level that allowed her to rise gingerly on one leg, then the other. Alessia raised her head and peered through her drenched curls at the open end of the alleyway; the evening had begun to charcoal and with it came the depletion of crowds as people began to close shop and make their way home where their fireplaces crackled and pots bubbled over with soups and curries.

Alessia limped through the street, cautiously lowering her gaze to avoid the looks that cruised her figure each time someone passed her by. Despite not seeing their faces, she could feel the degree of disdain shifting their countenance, the tightness to their mouths. One mother yanked her child off the sidewalk and into her arms. Two men roughly bumped her shoulders, which almost sent her sprawling. Another shop purposely closed its door.

They did not have to see her face to know what she was.

The white streak in her hair was enough.

A violent draught pebbled her skin and the thief gritted her teeth while urging her feet through the city and into the woods. Alessia quietly chose a familiar path that wound between the tall, silhouetted trees like a slinking serpent, the growing darkness sinking around her. She exhaled and squinted up at the fence that suddenly stood erect before her, a small gaping hole made in one corner. After crawling through the space, she staggered the rest of the way in hopes that her spilled blood would be washed away by the rain drumming down from the heavens.

The Alpha's palace came into view a moment later, bright as a falling comet amidst the sweltering blackness. The path she took was smooth and paved unlike the dust-kicked path in the market, each brick being polished until it was gleaming under the night sky - gleaming much like the walls and the doors and the glossed windows that approached.

Gritting her teeth to stop them from chattering, Alessia stepped from the path onto the grass and warily found the small jigsaw of vines obscuring a ladder that scaled the palace wall. Her ladder, she liked to call. As she tilted her head upwards, the image of a familiar oval window at the top, spilling golden light from within, graced her insides and her bruised body. The rain pattered on her thinly flushed skin.

She considered chucking a pebble at the window and having Circe sneak her in through one of the doors but her throbbing side protested, along with the fact that the Alpha's daughter wasn't permitted to walk without the accompaniment of a guard - despite it being within the secure confines of her home. Sighing, the weary thief began to climb the wobbly vine, inhaling a sharp breath each time her hand stretched out to pull her upwards. It felt like a knife to the gut with every hold.

"Circe," she whispered harshly once her fingers gripped the ledge. A soft hum cooed from the bedroom. Peering over her shoulder and down at the twenty-foot drop, Alessia sucked her tongue, then turned back. "Circe."

Ignoring the burning pain that ripped through her side, she hauled herself up the rest of the way and almost collapsed before the window, clumsily pushing herself into a crouch. She cupped both hands around her eyes while peering into the room on both feet. It was grand with familiar, opulent furniture and extravagant tapestries. Her eyes slowly tracked across the expanse in search of the princess, only to halt at the flutter of white cloth.

Circe was exiting the bathroom with a silken robe covering her lithe body. Despite the covering, her youthful, feminine figure was outlined beneath: the delicate column of her neck and the full, soft curve of her breasts were followed by a cinched waist that flared outwards into hips fit for breeding.

The princess was working one hand through her gold-spun hair, removing the pins one at a time to let the strands effortlessly curtain about her cupid face.

Circe's beauty was like an arrowhead to the heart. She possessed the epicene beauty peculiar to young girls of a certain age, short-lived, unlikely to survive past twenty.

Her beauty was nurtured and cultivated for one sole purpose: to be the Lycan King's virgin breeder.

The crackling fireplace cast a glow of warmth upon her snowy skin as fresh as newly-pressed olive and a marbled flush to her pomegranate lips, which suddenly parted in a silent scream. Her words drowned in her throat at the ominous figure crouched low by her window, only to pause.

Alessia raised a hand in a small wave, her lips pressing in a sheepish smile as she watched the princess try and steady her pounding heart. She gestured at the window impatiently.

"Alessia-" Circe began as she stepped forwards, fingers reaching and fiddling with the latch. Once it gave way, the window opened and she gestured the girl swiftly inside. Luminous blue eyes swept over the thief who tumbled into the room with the harsh stirring wind as her friend. Hastily, Circe locked the window. "What happened?"

The room was warm, like the welcomed embrace of a loved one whom Alessia knew nothing of, in comparison to the gusts of wind outside. Rising to her full height, she started to unbutton her cloak, face scrunched in a tight grimace. "What didn't happen?" she muttered while growing conscious of Circe's open stare; it grazed over her bruised and bloody torso before running back to her face where a faint imprint of a hand lingered. A flash of disapproval darkened those eyes.

"What did you steal?"

Alessia blinked up at her friend, a lie ready on her tongue to save her from further questions, only to hesitate and wither at her disapproving stare. Struggling to feign innocence, her face settled for excitement as she slid a hand into her waistband and withdrew with a gleaming dagger.

She raised it to the light, turning it this way and that, watching as it caught reflections of the dancing fire at the dangerously sharpened corners.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Lessie-"

"No, no, just... look at it, Circe." Eagerly, she stepped forward and pressed it into her friend's soft palm, then closed her hand into a fist. "Go on..." Her eyes remained bright and keen on the princess, searching for that same honeyed desire of excitement that lanced through her.

There was none.

Circe held it away from herself as though it was made of something poisonous, her full lips turning down at the corners. "Was this truly worth getting brutalized over?"

"Yes," Alessia replied without a moment's hesitation. She reached back for the dagger with a beckoning hand. The light in her eyes danced alive with the blazing flames of the fireplace as she stared in absolute awe at the blade, causing Circe to shift in discomfort as she handed it back to her. "It belonged to a Gypsy tradesman from the fifth kingdom."

"Did it really?" The indifference in her tone was laced with a tinge of friendly mockery, distinct from the shadows that leapt in the corners of the room.

Alessia pointedly ignored her while thumbing the blade. "He said it killed a Lycanthrope."

"Well, that's a lie."

The thief's eyes were a honed blade that cut through the other woman. "No, it isn't."

"It's a fairy tale. A myth. Nothing can kill a Lycan and you know that. Now come," she ordered, eyes softening as she reached for Alessia's face, "Let me see your wounds."

Circe touched her jaw, unafraid. Her fingers were slender, white, and faultlessly elegant. Alessia patiently waited as her friend tilted her face left and right, her eyes lingering on each cut. Her hand dropped to the buttons of her shirt and slowly began to open them to expose the breadth of her shoulders. "You're cold," she said and Alessia shrugged nonchalantly. "My bath is heated. I was going to shower but I suppose I can share."

Alessia was already shrugging off her blouse with a warm, cunning smile that mirrored the blade's sharpness. "I was going to bathe with or without your consent," she commented before shimmying out of her sodden pants. She kicked them aside, abandoning her outer clothes in a small heap, and trailed behind her friend in a bra and underwear.

"One day, you will remember whom you are talking to like that," said Circe chastisingly.

Alessia snorted and peeled off the remainder of her clothes as they stepped into the large bathroom. It was lavish, almost ostentatious, with patterned rose tiles and hot steam that rose in thick sheets from the large porcelain tub. The heat curled over her skin and swept over her bruised sides with soft hands.

The pungent scent of sweat of her skin soon turned into an afterimage, faint and almost undetectable under the fog of eucalyptus oils. She gave a mocking bow to Circe.

"Apologies, my princess," Alessia grinned with a mirthful eyebrow waggle. "Allow me to show my sincere regrets by shaving your hairy anus and making it presentable for the Lycan King."

Circe snorted and dipped a dainty toe into the tub, then twirled it around briefly before sinking the whole foot up to her thigh. There was not a blemish on her skin unlike Alessia's, which she caught sight of in the large-scaled bathroom mirror - littered with scars and now dull blue-black bruises on her sides.

"Well?" A soft splash of water touched her skin. Alessia's attention slanted back to the princess who was neck deep in the water and watching her with steady blue eyes. "Get in then."

The grin reappeared on her face like the sun from behind clouds. "So do you think that he likes anal?" Alessia inquired innocently, fighting to contain her laughter while slipping into the hot waters beneath her.

Circe made a noise of disdain at the back of her throat. "I do not care to know that."

"Well, you should," she noted and began to soap herself, lathering herself with specks of diamond whilst her friend gazed on with a peculiar look in her eyes. She soon moved onto the piece of pumice and soap brush; such puritan aids were only available to the royals and Alessia was keen on taking advantage of the benefits of their friendship. "Maybe he likes spanking-"

Circe's eyes passed over her, displaying jagged distaste. "Can we please not discuss the Beast in my chambers?"

"Okay, I'm sorry." It was no secret that the princess loathed discussion of the Lycan King, for even his title bristled her feathers. Although, it was to be expected considering her position as a sacrifice soon to be placed at the altar for either his taking or death. Alessia cupped a handful of warm water and rinsed her face before settling back, skin raw and throbbing from the thorough cleaning.

Their eyes met from across the steam. Circe had not moved an inch but remained still neck-deep in the bath, her golden hair floating about like lily pads. "How was your day?" the princess asked hesitantly as her leg brushed Alessia's under the water.

"Swell, I stole and got beaten by a mob of men." A pause. "How was yours?"

"The usual."

Alessia knew the drill: wake at dawn for guided meditations; be oiled and pampered by the maidens, then weighed and measured accordingly; eat from the platter of scarce foods made solely to enhance her beauty and maintain a low body fat percentage; scheduled nap and study; play the cello and harp, followed by more studying and language practice; take a short walk around the garden and return once more to the imprisonment of her room.

Alessia would have expressed her pity somewhat mildly but knew such emotional displays would only rile the princess. Circe did not need a reminder of who she was, what she was.

"What's this?" the thief hummed while reaching across the tub for a folded book she had seen lying in the periphery of her vision. The cover was missing, the pages yellowed and the ink smudged black from lingering in the steam too long. Despite all this, she could make out the pages and detailed writing. She arched a curious eyebrow at Circe who shrugged indifferently.

"It is an erotica."

"Erotica?" Alessia echoed and at her friend's nod, she began to flip through the pages. Her eyes danced over the incomprehensible words before she shut it and tossed it at her friend. "Read it for me."

This time, Circe raised a blonde eyebrow.

"Please."

With a sigh, she turned to a random page, then watched Alessia for a brief moment before clearing her throat.

She caressed him gently, feeling his flesh pulse and twitch against her. His penis was beautiful, long and thick, the head large and dark like a ripe plum. Unable to wait a moment longer, she ran her tongue over the spongy tip. It was the softest, smoothest thing she'd ever felt in her life. And she wanted more. So much more.

Circe paused, her eyes flickering to Alessia who remained stoic in the water. The cadence of her breathing had slowed to a tense pace like that of sliding through treacle as a burn of embarrassment crossed her brown cheeks.

She gestured to the princess to continue.

"Oh, Mara," he gasped. When she looked up at him, she saw his head thrown back, the muscles of his neck flexed. "Please, love, take me in your mouth. I need you."

Another pause.

Alessia groaned, "Must you pause every time?"

Circe chuckled lightly, "No, but I am enjoying your reaction to this."

His pleas inflamed her. Mara lowered her head once more and sucked him between her lips. He fit so perfectly, cradled on the hollow of her tongue. Some primal, basic part of her soul knew she had tasted him this way before. She used her tongue to wet his cock until it glided smoothly in and out of her mouth. Once more, she felt his hands in her hair. Not pushing, never forcing, but simply holding her, stroking her-

"Why do you have this book?" Alessia suddenly demanded, the red beneath her skin deepening as her dark brows furrowed in confusion. A flash of doubt crossed her eyes. "Are you a virgin?"

"Of course I am." The book slammed shut in her hands and Circe tossed it aside a moment later. "The Luna has requested I read such books so that I may know what to do and say when the time comes."

The breeding time. How to submit and pleasure a demon king for as long as he would let her live.

A doleful silence settled between the two and Alessia felt a smatter of pity churn in her gut for the princess. The sacrifice was in less than a week and such a realization brought bile rising up her throat in fear. She could only wonder how Circe felt.

Circe took one look at her, noted the sympathetic expression, then rose from the water.

"What are you doing?" Alessia questioned as the princess began to turn around, exposing the valley of her elegant winding back, slim from the nape of her neck and curving inwards at the waist before blossoming slightly around her glossed hips - the hips of a fertile Luna, she had once overheard the servants say.

The hips of a breeder.

Circe leaned over the bathtub's edge and reached back with both hands to spread her cheeks. The action defined her pink, fleshy womanhood shaved clean up to her tight asshole where wisps of fine blonde hair mapped.

"Well?" The princess flashed her a coy smile. "Get shaving."

Alessia woke to the soft rubbing of a thumb over her dark eyebrows. The ministrations continued until her brows knotted at the center in mild vexation, her dream of nothing fading slowly to leave an impression of warmth. She stirred sleepily, her limbs heavy with pleasure that lingered from the night before. The cozy, rich bedding felt like heaven against her skin.

The hand that caressed her face slipped down the delicate curve of her jaw to poke at the dimple on her left cheek. Alessia caught it with a quick sweep of her hand. Fingers clasped around the wrist, her green eye slipped open to hazily peer at Circe.

The princess lay on her side, face propped upon an open palm. The silken sheets had slipped down her chest to expose soft yet firm breasts with rosy tips. She smiled as their eyes met.

"What is it?" Alessia mumbled before releasing her friend's hand and turning to press her face into the soft pillows. Keeping company with one of the Alpha's daughters came with numerous perks, and sleeping in a queen-sized bed happened to be one of them.

Alessia had always relished such comforts, her skin still perfumed from the decadent bath and her belly mildly empty, despite eating a platter of fruits, cheese and bread that the princess had politely declined due to the number of calories. And now, she relished the warmth that spread over her bare skin from sleeping half-naked in the same bed.

It was second nature to share items between themselves, and sleeping nude was as normal as breathing.

Circe exhaled a breath and Alessia smelled the fresh mint in it. "I wish to visit the church," she said, as if piously.

This caught Alessia's attention for her head rose moments later, colored eyes peering from the nest of unruly curls falling over her face. "You do not believe in God."

"No, I do not. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't want to."

"You're a terrible liar," she snorted in response.

"And you're a thief." The covers shifted down as Circe rose and stretched her arms with all the grace of a cat towards the ceiling. Her torso curved outwards, her ribcage fluttering like butterfly wings, and then Alessia was catching her eyes once more, a certain gleam to those blue orbs. "A match made in heaven, don't you think?"

She scoffed though her lip curled in amusement. "A princess and a thief... the Alpha would have a heart attack."

"My father is old, a heart attack is already due. It is my mother who would burn this world if she ever caught wind of-"

"Our friendship?" Alessia inquired with a dragging sigh. She kicked the covers away while rubbing her eyes vigorously with the heels of her palms. "She would never, I'm great at hiding things. And so are you."

"Yes," Circe muttered. Alessia felt her steady gaze for a moment before the princess turned to face the window, streams of light pouring down on her smooth, polished skin. "I suppose so."

A beat passed and Alessia was already beginning to doze off again when suddenly, a hand clamped around her ankle and she was being dragged towards the edge of the bed.

"Let's get ready, Lessie."

"Give me a moment," she grumbled, "I'm praying."

A mellow hum of laughter was Circe's response as she rose from the bed. Alessia's tired eyes tracked the princess as she moved about the room, pulling open wardrobes and drawing out a dress - which in her eyes, seemed simple amidst the extravagant pieces. "Will your father permit it?"

"Permit what?"

"Visiting the church. You know how he is..."

"Daddy has grown soft for me since this is my last week of staying in his home. He believes I need to experience all the finer things in life and satisfy my heart's desires before I, well-"

"He believes you'll hate him less." Alessia paused at the expression on the girl's face, her stomach stirring. "For sacrificing you to the Lycan."

Circe's eyes lifted from the dress and landed on her. She smiled knowingly, sadly.

Breaking the silence that had befallen, Alessia threw a reckless leg over the bed's edge, and released another groan of protest before rising as well. Scratching at a random spot on her belly, she made for the bathroom where her tattered clothes had been hung up to dry. She drew on the pants, then shirt, and finally her cloak. All the garments Circe had gifted her months ago now seemed worn down to the threads.

Running a hand through her curls, she tied them up into a ponytail. "Do you happen to have a-"

Something soft collided with her face. Alessia drew it away and grinned at the sight of the shawl in her hand, a simple brown color but smelling vaguely of the princess' skin.

"You know," Alessia started as she stepped out into the balcony and swung a leg over the railing before sitting down on it, her smile lazy. "This whole sneaking in and out has a romantic charm to it."

Circe lowered the brush from her hair and arched an eyebrow at the thief. "Oh?"

"Don't you think so?" The girl eclipsed the sun behind her, which was a hearth, a fire that burned the skies of late summer. But behind the forest was a darkness that loomed, cold and eternally trapped in the claws of winter. Soon, the princess would be in those claws, but Alessia refused to think about such things.

The princess wrinkled her nose. "It reminds me of Romeo and Juliet."

Dramatically, Alessia swept a hand towards her friend with a tragic expression of adoration upon her countenance.

"Oh, Circe! Circe! Fire of my loins! Thy overripe pussy that dwelleth between your legs... thy ass cheeks freshly shaven and, uh, smooth as the moon's surface- '' A pillow smacked the center of her face, nearly tipping her over the edge.

"Begone thief!"

With a speckle of laughter, Alessia commenced her long descent to the bottom.

"There aren't many people," Circe pointed out with the hand that was not clutching Alessia's bicep.

Alessia nodded with a hum, her eyes sweeping over the closed stalls and market places. Houses as well had begun boarding up their windows and doors as the sacrificial day approached. It was not just the sacrifice that had galvanized such reactions, but the rumors that came spreading from the fourth kingdom.

"They said a Lycanthrope made an appearance," murmured the thief.

Lycanthropes were the first creatures to roam the planet, a hybrid mix of demon and wolf. From them came the lineage of wolves and demons, both separated by a realm known as the darkness. Within it, another kingdom thrived: one that was ruled by the Lycan King and his subjects. One where demons and Lycans lived side-by-side in a world of blood, gore, and violence.

No wolf had ever crossed to the darkness and vice versa for the peace had been kept through virginal sacrifices where the Lycan King would choose a breeder to satiate his appetite until the next. It was either death or a life of cruel pleasures at the hands of a beast.

But there had been rumours that itched Alessia's ears.

Rumours of demon creatures entering the wolf realm.

A village had suddenly vanished on the outskirts of the kingdom with splashes of blood but no bodies - an eerie testament to the cannibalism of Lycanthropes who ate wolves and demons alike.

The Alphas had grown aware of such small instances, and it was enough to catalyze myriads of actions. The third kingdom had begun the construction of more walls within their territory, separating the outermost cities from the royals who resided in the interior.

The first kingdom was recruiting more soldiers and solidifying their borders.

The fourth had begun to create granaries and silos for storage, which signified the distancing and isolating of their nation from all others for the time being.

Alessia did not know about the other kingdoms.

She picked a random apple from a cart nearby, lifted it to the gray air for inspection, then tossed a coin at the old woman at the stall.

"What is your father doing?" she inquired whilst polishing the apple on her breast. When she took a bite of the succulent fruit, a burst of honey came alive in her mouth as the excess juices ran down her wrist.

Circe declined a bite of the apple. "I'm not sure. Father believes that the... beast... will quiet down once the sacrifices are done."

They turned down a random street where street urchins crowded, either leaning against the walls or hunched down playing games with stones and chalk. One boy glanced up as they passed by. His brown eyes watched them from under a worn-out cap which he removed and tipped in their direction.

"Mornin', princess." Around his smashed nose, the boy had a fine-boned, aristocratic face, beautifully shaped dark brows, and long dark lashes. He was even more attractive up close with his pretty mouth, despite the dried blood from his nose that curled across his upper lip.

Alessia snorted at the boy, "She's not interested."

"I'd wager that." The boy fell in step beside her, sedately leaning forward to peer at the princess, who in turn bowed her head as if knocked by a heavy wind. His lips curved wickedly. "A pretty thing for sure." He thrust a hand out. "The name's Damen."

Before Circe could accept it, Alessia was intercepting with a swipe. She scowled disdainfully at him and declared, "She's not interested, heathen."

"I'm sure the princess has a mouth of her own, thief."

"And why would she waste her breath on such a thing?"

"Because I'm breathtaking?" he said with a theatrical sweep of his hand through his brown hair, a streak of silver slipping between his grime-stained fingers.

Alessia mimicked a gag, then peered over her shoulder at the group of boys now watching them curiously. The majority seemed quite small except for three large ones; they were broad-shouldered and stocky, built like bulls. Her gaze returned to Damen who was tilting dangerously forward to catch Circe's downcast expression.

She pressed her hand against his temple and shoved him hard. "Move, peasant."

Damen stumbled briefly before catching her wrist and using it as leverage to draw both of them closer. "Not until she speaks to me."

Alessia's eyes flashed dangerously, a wave of wicking anger flickering in her core. "Release me," the smoothness of her tone took on a sharp edge, like a warrior drawing his dagger across a whetstone, "Before I decapitate that hand and beat you bloody with it."

Damen met her head-on, his height only an inch taller at five foot six. "Go on then, you know I enjoy a good fight-"

"Release her, Damen." Circe's voice was saccharine in comparison to theirs, a golden lyre that fluted past her delicate lips. Alessia turned to see that the princess was staring at Damen openly, almost... amiably.

Damen goggled dumbly at the attention, and as her lips curled into a small smile, Alessia swore she heard the heathen's heart tumble down the confines of his pants.

Pathetic, she sneered inwardly. Snatching her wrist from his loosening grip, she urged Circe onwards.

"You shouldn't have spoken to him," Alessia muttered while peering over her shoulder to find Damen still gazing after her, eyes dilated longingly. The large boys had broken from the group to join him, bellowing chants and clapping his small shoulder with beefy hands. "Now he'll just pester you for more syllables."

Circe shrugged and tilted her face to the autumn sky. "He wouldn't have released you if I didn't."

Damen's dopey expression evaporated into a cocky grin and his hands rose to wave comically at their retreating figures. "The pleasure's all mine, princess!" he bellowed. "And please, call me Dame!"

Alessia watched him. There was even, she noted with some disgust, a little bounce in his step.

They arrived at the temple and she stood a way's back as Circe knelt at the altar, scuffing her shoe on the slabs of stone beneath. Alessia cast her a short look before shifting her attention towards the coloured glass windows depicting different gods. An abundance of candles had been lit at the front, giving the atmosphere a warm, haunted look with the faint fragrance of burning incense.

Religion was the last thing on her mind, and though she believed in the existence of some supernatural being, the thought of worshipping them - remaining faithful to an invisible entity - thoroughly baffled Alessia.

"Gods my ass," Alessia muttered under her breath while snuffing a flame between her fingertips. The Luna Goddess, the Moon Gods, the Mountain spirits, the Seven flames... it was all folklore intended to soothe sobbing babies at night and adults who feared the concept of death and hoped that, somehow, there would be peace beyond the inevitable darkness.

But there were no gods.

There was nothing but lies and a need to console our inner child.

If they did exist, then they were perhaps the most ruthless, useless beings to roam the skies. Criminals. Torturers who subjected suffering upon those who didn't deserve and stole all that Alessia ever had.

A body suddenly appeared behind her, nearly startling her skin off, and she jumped as a result before whirling around, hand poised over the gleaming blade tucked at her side.

Circe arched an eyebrow and said, "I'm done." The saturated smell of incense was on her skin and a new beaded necklace hung over her chest with a small cross at the end.

"I could have stabbed you, you know." The scowl on her face faltered as her eyes fell to the cross. "What is this?" she asked and used the blade's edge to lift the dangling necklace from her chest, watching as the light caught the stone figure strung on the cross.

"The priest gave it to me. It's a symbol of Christ."

"Christ?"

"Yes, the Son of God."

Alessia released the necklace with a disapproving look, then pivoted on one heel. "Now that you've had your fix of religion, can we go somewhere and eat? I'm starving." She paused at the entrance and adjusted the shawl over her face, tucking in stray curls that curtained her apple cheeks.

Circe made a sound of agreement and slipped her hand into the thief's.

They had dinner on the balcony of her bedroom that night. Alessia had sprawled herself out in an undignified manner on the mattress while Circe stood on the balcony patio with a bowl of grapes in hand.

"Ready?"

Alessia shuffled until her head was upside down on the divan, her curls tumbling down to brush against the wooden floors. Her eyes sparkled playfully. "Ready."

"Mouth open."

She did so, then squinted in concentration as Circe raised a green grape, twiddling with the succulent fruit while aiming at the thief's gaping mouth. Alessia watched the fruit fly, color blurring so fast it seemed to dissolve in the darkness before landing perfectly in her mouth with an inaudible tap.

"My turn!" she exclaimed, teeth sinking into the grape as she gobbled it swiftly. Rising with a triumphant grunt, she grabbed a handful of grapes but Circe declined. Alessia frowned. "But you've barely eaten."

It was true. Although the plates had been cleared, it was mostly due to her cavernous appetite, not the one whom the food was intended for. Circe had made a show of conversing and plucking at the fruits but never once taken a bite, pointedly ignoring the bread and cheese and never raising a crumb to her lips.

She had to maintain a certain amount of body fat and weight, keep the bird-like bones of her body ever young and light as she was told.

"Just one grape?"

"No."

Their eyes met for a moment, and Alessia took it as a challenge. With a toss of her wrist, she flicked the grapes into the air, one, two and three, juggling them so lightly their delicate skins did not bruise.

"Toss me another."

Circe threw in a fourth.

"Another."

A fifth.

Her eyes flickered to the princess' pleased ones. "More." Six, seven, eight, nine!

Juggling was a trick of low jesters and beggars and Damen had taught her the art during one of their many nights of thievery and utter boredom. He could toss figs and fruits with the effortless grace of a ballerina - a living pattern painted on the air, so beautiful even she could not fake disinterest in the heathen.

"Nine." Circe's voice was somewhere in the corner of her mind, amused by the thief as she glided across the room while still juggling the grapes. "New record-"

"Add another."

"Are you sure?"

Alessia felt her heart strum giddily. She would have spared a glance at the princess to see her radiant expression but the juggling required her every attention. "Yes."

"Alright... watch out, thief... incoming in three... two... one-"

The tenth grape flicked into the pile, briefly startling Alessia who fumbled to incorporate it. "Lunafuckingdamnit- '' The grapes tumbled to the floor all around her, rolling off in all directions in a struggle to escape. Circe burst out into laughter, her blue eyes sparkling and crinkling at the corners. Feigning victory, Alessia caught one before it fell with the rest and smoothly bowed while presenting it to the princess.

"For you."

Circe's smile faded. "Lessie-"

"Hush," she scolded. Straightening, Alessia bridged the final space between them and pressed the fruit to her lips. "Eat," she said, demanding. Their gazes locked. When the princess did not yield, she applied slight pressure. "Go on." Her eyes softened. "Do it for me."

It took only a moment for Circe's steel nerves to bubble and melt; her lips surrendered to the invasion and the grape slipped between them seconds later. Alessia smiled as her thumb came in contact with her cupid's bow.

"See?" She dropped her hand with a smug smile as the princess began to eat. "Barely a calorie, still light as a bird."

Circe looked away and swallowed, a slight hue of red clouding the highs of her cheeks.

"You should see me juggle the pomegranates... two silver coins says I can do eight-"

Alessia began to turn and reach for the bowl of fruit when a hand was clamping around her wrist, jerking her back. She turned casually, expecting some sort of rebuttal from the princess, but when hands suddenly cupped her face, she froze.

Circe's lips touched hers a moment later.