Lycan and His Lover

"AGH!" Roseanne groans in pain. Her hands and feet are tied tightly. She struggles to be free but it is almost impossible to move. Roseanne's amber eyes are covered by a dark cloth and she can hear the gleeful voice of a man.

"This one's a beauty!" one of the men is saying. "She's gonna bring us a fortune!"

"Let me go!" she demands but someone slaps her across the face. The sound of the slap echoes throughout the dark room where she is kept. Her captor hit her with such force that she can feel drops of blood flowing down her cheek.

Roseanne curses the Crown Prince. Ivan Vissarion is a vicious man who made Roseanne's life miserable at the royal family. Cruel and sadistic, Roseanne is his favorite toy to torment. For the past eight years, he tried to harass her or worse but thanks to her abilities, she managed to find out about his evil plans.

But that night, she was drugged and sold off to these men who are going to put her up for a slave auction.

How did I not recognize the milk of poppy? She wonders.

"She's got bright golden hair too!" She hears one of the men exclaim. "And that body...ugh! I wanna have a taste of her myself."

Roseanne is on the defensive. If her hands were not tied, she could have escaped using her powers.

But she has hidden her powers from the Lycans. If they find out about her abilities, they will do everything they can to take over her powers.

And she cannot let them succeed.

"Don't be silly, Pyodor!" the other man snaps. "She's a virgin! Do you know how much a virgin human girl will sell?

Pyodor? I know that name! She realizes. Pyodor Berezin is an infamous slave trader who has connections with the Vissarion royal family. He sells slaves and girls to the Emperor, adding more women to his harem of courtesans. Everyday, the human girls are tortured by the murderous Lycan and Roseanne has seen the horrors they go through.

Ivan now sold her to these people. No one can save her from their clutches and she cannot risk using her powers.

Moon Goddess, please! Help me! She begs.

"Let's prepare for the auction, Costa," Pyodor says to his partner. "Tonight's event is special. I hear that a VIP is coming!"

"VIP? Who is it?" the man named Costa asks.

"I don't know but I got a card from Sloria," Pyodor revealed. "Looks like someone important is going to grace our event."

"You don't think it's the Duke himself?"

Duke? The Slorian Duke?

Roseanne is now panicking. They say that the Duke of Sloria is a heartless monster who will not hesitate to kill anyone in his way.Unlike the kingdom of Ezealyra which is filled with green pastures and beautiful landscapes, Sloria is completely covered with snow. No one can enter it without the permission of the Duke and he will not let anyone enter it.

The Duke of Sloria is the de facto leader of the land but no one has ever seen him nor the people of Sloria. In fact, the region is so secretive and dangerous to cross, people believe that it is a myth.

Is he going to come? She wonders. I must escape!

She hears the two men's feet shuffling followed by the sound of the door shutting behind them. They are gone.

Roseanne tries her best to free herself but the poppy concoction has weakened her. She can sense that she is alone in the room. Even without the blindfold, she knows that the room was dark. Her limbs are paralyzed and she is unable to be freed.

"Alexei..." she whispers in despair. Her heart is bleeding for her childhood friend. Many years have passed by but the pain of losing him is still fresh. He was her confidante, the only friend who understood her. He knew her secrets and she knew his. They were supposed to be together. It was a promise they had made.

"I will always protect you, Rosie!" he had told her. "We will be mates one day. You will see."

"But the Moon Goddess chooses the mates!" Roseanne squeaked. "What if we are not mates, Prince Alexei?"

"I know we are mates! You'll see!"

Mates...Roseanne is lying on the hard ground. Her tears are falling nonstop, the pain in her heart growing by the second. He promised her that she would be his mate. But that promise was shattered in one night when the previous Royal Family was killed off.

"Come back to me...Alexei..." she sobs.

...

The streets are shrouded with a deafening silence. A bright full moon is shining in the sky, illuminating the stone roads which are surrounded by gothic style slated houses, crammed together. A deep fog has settled on the Capital, clouding the vision.

From a distance, the sounds of horses' hooves broke the uneasy peace of the Capital. Amidst the mist, a carriage appears. The wheels are coated with gold paint, attached to the mahogany vehicle which is being driven by an old driver. He drives the horses with ease, passing by the homogeneous houses where werewolves are resting. There is no one else on the street except for a few omegas and humans who are trying to find a place to sleep for the night.

Inside the passenger box is a well dressed man. His ebony hair is covered with a gentleman's hat and he is dressed in a fine long coat which perfectly complements his sculpted structure. The man's gaze is on a large silver locket. He stares at it, his heart cold and numb by the picture he hides in it, his eyes hidden behind the shadow of the hat.

The man is in his mid twenties but he carries an aura of authority which eclipses everyone else's presence. There is a mischievous charm to him which attracts others. His sharp features amplify his raw magnetism, drawing all attention to him. He closes the locket and neatly puts it back into his pocket.

His manners are polished and elegant. Straightening a cane he is holding, he patiently waits to arrive at his destination.

After a while, the carriage stops. The driver climbs down and opens the door for his master.

"We are here, Duke," the driver informs him. The Duke nods and slowly climbs out of the carriage. He is of a large build and even taller than average werewolves. In fact, he is of the Lycan race, the most superior one of all.

They are at a cheap looking tavern which leads to an underground arena. Without a word, he enters the tavern where a guard tries to stop him. But the Duke flashes in a cold glare which makes the guard gulp in fear.

"F-Forgive m-me , my lord!" he squeaks. "You can enter!"

Something about the man scared the guard. With one gaze, the guard understood that this was the Duke of Sloria, one of the most dangerous men in the continent.

The Duke simply enters the tavern. It is an old, shabby place made of a few bricks and stones. A bartender nods at him as he passes by but the Duke pays no heed to him. He heads straight towards a small wall and searches for a particular brick. He finally finds a loose red brick and presses it.

The wall jerks open on its own, revealing a secret staircase. The Duke climbs down the staircase until he reaches a large arena where hundreds of patrons are seated. They were of all ages. Some are alphas of highly important packs while others are from the nobility who are looking for new flesh. The men hold important ranks and the Duke knows that some of them have mates.

But when it comes to carnal desires, these men will stoop low enough to torment their mates and take up mistresses for themselves. Most of their mates are helpless and endure the pain of betrayal in silence. The physical pain and mental anguish they suffer is inexplicable but it is better to be tortured than rejected.

Such is the law of the Moon Goddess.

He stands in the middle of the crowd, silently waiting. His prey today is Pyodor, the infamous slave trader. There is a debt the scum has to settle with the Duke.

The Duke taps his foot, feeling impatient. He is not the only one; the crowd is also impatient. There is a rumor that a rare blonde haired virgin is on sale today. Ivan, the fool of a Crown Prince, has sold her off for ten million creds and the Duke is highly interested to see this girl.

He takes out his watch to check the time. As he is about to open the pocket watch, a host comes on the stage to greet them.

"Gentlemen!" the chubby host with rotten teeth exclaims. "Tonight, we have all gathered to see the auction of a rare beauty!"

The men around the Duke cheer at those words. He only pulls his hat lower, hiding his presence. The Duke is the strongest person in the room but he is hiding his presence. Power should be shown only when needed.

"Presenting to you the exquisite virgin.."

Suddenly, the world freezes for the Duke. A strong scent of sweet apples hit him, enticing his senses. His wolf Deskov sniffs the air longingly, howling inside him. The aroma is seductive, lulling the Duke towards it.

He knows what it is.

"Mate," he whispers.

"...Roseanne Vadimovna!" The host finishes.

Roseanne is crying hard, lamenting the life she had once lived. Alexei...her love Alexei...

All her life, she has been treated like dirt. Humans are the target of all kinds of supernatural creatures. Whether werewolves or vampires, it did not matter. They hate humans and even the low-level omegas can stomp on them.

Her lips break into a small smile as she recalls her childhood. Things were simpler then. At that time, she was living with her father in a small village in the hills. Her mother died in childbirth and her father had hidden himself in that village out of fear. The war was over but the hunt for humans like them was still going on.

But one day, a messenger came and they were forced to move to the Capital of Ezealyra.

She was only six years old when she moved to Vinesgrad, the capital, with her father Mikhael. At that time, her father was summoned by the previous Emperor Nikolai Vissarion and his wife Alexa. They had heard of his abilities and they were so desperate that they were willing to summon someone like Mikhael. Their arrival was kept a secret because they were no ordinary humans.

They were witches.

That is when Roseanne had met the eleven-year-old Crown Prince Alexei and they became best friends. Her father was treating the sickly Alexei at that time but he would not tell Roseanne what was wrong with him. It did not matter. She was with her friend and they were together. That was all she cared about.

Those were simpler times. She grew up with Alexei and his sisters who treated her with kindness. The Emperor and Empress were also good to her, treating her as their child. Empress Alexa affectionately called her Rose and never let others mistreat her because of her human blood.

And Alexei...her dear Alexei was her world. They would run around the large palace, playing and laughing all day long. Everyone claimed that he was a sick boy but he never looked ill. With her, he was lively and jovial.

"One day, you will be my mate!" Alexei had told her. Roseanne blinked at him in surprise.

"Prince Alexei, I am a human!" she exclaimed. "I can't be your mate."

"Why not? You are my friend. I am the Crown Prince. We will be mates."

"But the Moon Goddess already decided on your mate," Roseanne reasoned. "She knows everything! Your mate must be strong and dependable. I cannot be your mate-"

"Moon Goddess chose you for me," Alexei said firmly. His tone was authoritative and full of confidence as if it was the truth. Roseanne was awed by his intimidating aura, her eyes lit up in excitement.

Was she going to be his mate?

"How will I know if we are mates?" she asked curiously. "I am a human. Humans do not feel the connection, do they?"

"I read it in my book today!" Alexei said. "If a human is mated to a werewolf, then he or she also feels the bond. In fact, a human mate feels the connection as strongly as werewolves! If you are my mate then my scent will attract you after you turn eighteen. But I can tell that we are mates. I can feel it. Here..."

He held up his palm. "Touch my palm," he said. "Do you feel something?"

Roseanne hesitated before putting her palm onto his. To her surprise, she felt a slight current at the point they had touched. It was negligible but there. Her heart pounded in excitement.

Could she be Alexei's mate?

"What if someone else is my mate?" she asked sadly.

"Impossible! You are my mate. You cannot be anyone else's mate."

That is right, she thought. He will be my mate. And we will be very happy together.

The dreams of their childhood love never came to fruition. Her blissful days with him were cut short when anarchy arrived.

The playground which was full of laughter was soon showered with the blood of innocents.

And then all hell broke loose.

...

"Alexei..." she whispers. The cloth around her eyes is wet with her tears. She is helpless to fight against her captors. The milk of the poppy weakened her powers and she is lamenting her fate.

This is how my fate pans out? She thinks bitterly. Alone and crying for Alexei. If he was alive, he would have killed Ivan tonight.

Her hatred for the current Royal Family only grew. They are the reason Alexei is dead. She was never going to find a mate as he had said. As a human, she dreams too big, and now she is suffering.

The door bursts open and she cowers to a corner. A pair of rough hands grab her arms and pull her away.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" She yells at them. But they are deaf to her pleas.

Roseanne is dragged to the stage where she will be sold off. Her eyes are still shut and she screams for help.

"LET ME GO!" She begs. "PLEASE!"

She cries and struggles but her captors are too strong for her. One of them hit her back with a whip, making her cry in pain. She is still tied up and her hands are bleeding from her attempts to escape. They are treating her like an animal. No, she is even lower than that in the eyes of these werewolves.

Someone grabs her long hair and yanks it hard, making her scream in pain. Roseanne had been treated far worse but she never felt fear. Instead, she boldly shot back at her tormentors in the Royal Family.

But this...this is different. She does not know where she will end up and what they will do to her. The noblemen and alphas present in the event are ruthless monsters who are known to torture their human slaves. She screams and fights but it is of no use. Her fate is sealed.

As she is pulled near the stage, a strange scent momentarily distracts her.

It came out of nowhere but her heart stopped at the sweet cinnamon and honey essence. Something about it is enticing her, pulling her towards it. A burning sensation jolts her spine and she is pushed to an unknown utopia.

What is this? She wonders. Why is it attracting me so much?

Strange. She is in the middle of a dire situation and yet, her body is urging to run towards the source of this scent. Her insides are urging her to break free and find this fragrance that is occupying her mind.

What is this? This...this scent...

Why is it so darn addictive?

"Move!" one of the guards growls at her. Roseanne's reverie is broken and she is back to reality. Her captors pull her along and despite the blindfold, she can feel lights shining down at her. The guards tied her to a pole and yanked the cloth off her eyes.

She is almost blinded by the bright lights and struggles to regain her vision. Blinking hard, Roseanne looks ahead and pants in fear.

Hundreds of alphas and nobles are present to see her humiliation. Their lustful gazes are trying to disrobe her and she holds her breath in fear. Never did she feel so scared and vulnerable, not even on the night when the coup took place.

Roseanne is aware that she is wearing a plain white rug which all the human servants are forced to put on at the Royal Household. It is not revealing but the fabric is thin. She heard many rumors about these auctions and dreaded them. What if they pull her clothes off her and display her naked?

The thought of how they are going to humiliate her is frightening. She lowers her head, crying hard but Pyodor appears on stage and pulls her up as if she is a showpiece for display.

"Look at that beautiful face!" Pyodor declares to the guests. "Don't you think this porcelain skin is worth millions of creds?"

The alphas and nobles cheer in unison. They have never seen such exquisite beauty before. Her long golden hair is shining under the lights. They are lusting after her small, delicate frame which they can easily crush under their weight. Her fair skin is bright and oozing with the glow of her youth. The girl is hardly eighteen and by her scent, she is untouched.

It only aroused their desires.

"We will start the bidding at ten million creds!" Pyodor yelled.

"Fifteen million!" one alpha offers. He is a large man in his sixties with a sleazy look which only scared Roseanne.

"Twenty million!" A nobleman yells. His beady eyes are on her and he is licking his lips. The man is already horny by the blonde beauty who is on sale.

"Thirty million!"

"Forty!"

"Forty-five!"

All this time, the Duke is at the back, watching the drama. He does not bet but watches the girl. She is scared but there is strong defiance in her. The Duke can feel their connection and he knows that she can feel it too. Every now and then, her head turns his way as if she is searching for something.

"Sixty million creds!" A Knight shouted. Everyone turns to stare at the man in metal armor. A chill runs down their spine as the man steps forward. His long dark hair is tied with a band and his dark tobacco-stained lips curl into a smile. He is taller than most of the men in the room, almost at 6 feet 1 inch. His gaze is on Roseanne and she squirms in disgust.

She knows who he is. The Knight is Sir Stefan Vronsky, the best fighter in the Royal Army.

He is also the most sadistic man she has ever known. This man is not only a natural-born warrior but he is one of the men who mercilessly killed Alexei and his sisters that night.

"Sixty million?" Pyodor gasps. "Any other bidders?"

There will be none, Roseanne thinks in dismay. No one will go against this monster. If they do, he will kill them.

"Sixty million going once!" Pyodor counts. "Sixty million going twice! Sixty million going-"

"Two hundred million creds!"

Roseanne shuts her eyes, sobbing. Her heart is in agony, the anguish of losing her dignity and innocence is tormenting her.

Pyodor gasps as a man steps forward. Stefan is outraged and is about to draw his sword when the man takes off his hat. The Duke's eyes meet Stefan's dark ones and the latter is shocked.

Scarlet. The Duke has scarlet eyes!

"L-Lycan!" he gasps and kneels in front of him. The Duke ignores him and glares at the men in the room.

Pyodor, who forgot that he was auctioning the girl off, regains his composure.

"Two hundred million going once! Two hundred million going twice! Two hundred million going thrice! Sold!"

It is a death sentence for Roseanne. She is shattered and now, she is going to become the slave of a Lycan who will treat her worse than trash.

And then it hit her again. That scent...what is this?

It has grown stronger, moving towards her. She stays still, trying to think. It is a seductive scent that is impossible to escape from. Could this be...?

A large shadow fell over her. She is too shocked to speak but slowly raises her head only to meet the most beautiful pair of eyes she has ever seen.

Red eyes. A Lycan?

"Hello, my dear mate," he flashes her a grin. It is not full of love but rather a mischievous one as if he found a new toy.

Who is this strange man? Roseanne is sure that she knows all the Lycans in the Royal Family. Then who is he?

"Mate?" she whispers. This is impossible. She cannot be his mate!

But the scent...he is her mate. No! I am in love with Alexei! She screams in her mind.

The man stands up and turns to the audience.

"If you're done with the show, I'd like to take my mate home," he declares. "Party's over! Get going."

No one dares to challenge him. Slowly, the crowd disperses, cursing at the Lycan. Stefan stares at the Duke who does not even give him a second glance. Instead, he unties Roseanne. Once she is freed, she collapses but his strong arms catch her.

"Don't worry, my lover," he whispers in her ear. "You are mine now."

His voice sends a chill down her spine. Something is not right about this man.

But she has no strength left and completely blacks out, overwhelmed by the ordeal. The Duke calmly watches his mate fall into a blissful sleep.

He came to this place for something else. Never in his wildest imagination did he think that he would run into his mate. And that too someone he knows very well.

The arena is empty except for him, Roseanne and Pyodor.

"Er...sir?" Pyodor begins. "About that two hundred million creds..."

"Ah yes," the Duke nods. "Send the guards away."

Pyodor motions his guards to leave while the Duke tends to his mate. He lays Roseanne tenderly on the ground as if she is as fragile as glass. His mate really is delicate and he will take good care of her.

But there is something he must do first. The Duke then turns his attention towards Pyodor.

"Your payment," he says, stepping towards the portly man. For some reason, Pyodor is afraid of the man. This is the great Duke of Sloria. There is no doubt about it. He even spoke in the Slorian accent which is heavier than the Ezealyran one.

"Is here," The Duke finishes, pointing at Pyodor's chest. The trader is confused.

"I don't understand sir-"

In a swift motion, the Duke plunges his hand into the man's chest, creating a hole in it. Pyodor screams in pain as the Duke grabs his beating heart, squeezing it. Blood oozes out of Pyodor's chest and he gurgles as he falls to the ground. The Duke rips out his heart in one quick pull and crushes it in front of the dying man.

The crimson blood splatters everywhere, staining the Duke's clothes and skin. But he does not let a drop touch his beloved mate.

"Ezra!" he calls.

His carriage driver comes out of the shadows.

"Did you take care of the guards?" he asks the old man.

"They are being catered to, my lord," Ezra replies with a bow.

"Good. I need a new set of clothes," the Duke orders. "And tell one of the female fighters to cater to Roseanne. It will be a long journey ahead."

"Yes, my lord," Ezra said with a bow. The Duke takes off his bloodied coat and wraps it around Roseanne before carrying her into his arms, bridal style.

She is still unconscious but it is better this way. He can gaze at her for as long as he wants.

"Let's go, my love," he whispers in her ear. "Let's go home."