The Lycan Prince

Avalyn

It's beautiful. I flatten a hand over the beautiful navy blue gown, the fabric cool against my fingertips. The material seems to shimmer under the soft light, catching faint silvery gleams that resemble a starry night sky. The bodice hugs my torso perfectly and the intricate diamond-work tracing delicate patterns over my curves like constellations etched in midnight.

Today marks twenty years since the birth of Soare-Luna, and like every year since Nik and I got back together, we're hosting a ball. This year's theme, Beneath the Stars, feels especially fitting. My gown is a tribute to the stars aligning, allowing life as I know it to exist.

My skin warms and then sizzles.

"Do you like it, Mistress? I had Zoreno make some last minute changes...." Tessa drones, but I'm not listening.

Nik's here. Instinctively, heat pools between my legs.

My eyes shoot towards the mirror and I see him at the entrance of the walk-in closet. As always, I feel his presence before I see him. He leans against the door frame, his eyes burning into mine through the mirror before they leisurely trail down my form, drinking me in. Liquid heat pools in my belly.

Nik closes the distance in four long steps. An arm circles my waist, pulling me flush against him. A breathless gasp escapes my lips. His other hand brackets my throat, lightly squeezing it, cutting off half of my air supply, reminding me of his control over me. Not that I needed any reminding. I know it with every fibre of my being. His hard-on presses against my lower back and I bite down on my bottom lip, a low moan escaping my mouth.

"You've been naughty, my Love," Nik murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear before biting down on my earlobe.

Uh-oh. I knew this would happen. A delicious thrill shoots down my spine at what I know will happen next. "What did I do, baby?" I ask innocently but we both know better.

His left eyebrow raises half an inch. "You don't know?"

I shake my head, pressing my lips together, trying not to show the burgeoning smile.

"Let me remind you," he says smoothly, his voice dipping into a tone that makes my knees weak. "Hands flat on the mirror."

Without another word, I place my hands on the cool glass. Nik grabs the sides of my hips and pulls back, bending me at the waist. Then, he pulls my dress up and bunches it up around my hips. His other hand slips under me, finding my core.

"You're drenched," he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and something darker. "My little minx." His fingers scissor my lips, teasing but never quite entering me or touching my clit.

I squirm, desperate for more. "What are you going to do about it?"

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. "Whatever I want." His hand disappears, only to return a heartbeat later with a sharp crack against my ass. The sting morphs into a fiery heat that sends shockwaves to my core.

"Ah," I gasp and my pussy clenches. I jerk away from him for a moment before pushing my ass back toward him, needing more.

"So fucking desperate for a punishment, hm?" His voice is light but his eyes betray his raw hunger.

"Yes, Master," I rasp, my voice full of need.

Blow after blow rain down, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. The sharp sting blends into a dull, aching pleasure, the kind that coils low in my belly and spreads through my limbs.

"Look at yourself," he commands, his voice cutting through the haze. "Look at me using the Queen of Soare-Luna like the bad girl she is."

My eyes flutter open, focusing on our reflection. My skin glows with heat, my pupils blown wide, and my dress is bunched at my waist. Nik towers behind me, his glowing eyes locked on mine, his expression feral and possessive as he continues spanking me.

The sight sends a fresh wave of arousal through me, and I moan, the sound raw and unrestrained. It turns me on but as the blows continue, my skin grows tender.

When his hand finally stills, the sting lingers, my skin humming with sensitivity. His palm rests against my sore flesh, rubbing in slow, soothing circles.

"Please, Master," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I'm sorry."

Nik smirks, his hand squeezing possessively. "For what, little liar? I thought you didn't do anything wrong."

"I... I did," I admit breathlessly, the confession spilling from my lips. "I had them switch out your tux for a different one. I wanted us to match."

His gaze sharpens, those grey eyes narrowing as he processes my confession. Nikolai has always insisted on wearing only black tuxedos, claiming anything else is "tacky." For the last few months, I've been on a mission. I am trying to persuade him to experiment, to wear something that matched the themes of the events we attended. Every time, his answer had been an unmovable no. This time, I've taken matters into my own hands. His tuxedo now complements my dress-a tasteful navy blue with subtle, elegant designs that resembles constellations. It wasn't gaudy or overdone, just... not his usual black.

"You're a naughty girl, Ava," he murmurs, his teeth grazing my shoulder. My breath hitches, a shiver of anticipation running through me.

"I... I thought you'd like it," I stammer, my resolve faltering under his heated gaze. "Just try it. If you hate it, I'll take the rest of my punishment without complaint, and I'll apologise. For real this time."

In the mirror, I see a flicker of contemplation in his eyes. Yes! "Please," I say softly, in the tone that I know works.

"Fine." Knew it.

"Yay!" I turn around and smack a kiss on his lips, unable to supress my grin. "You will look so handsome. All eyes will be on you."

His grey eyes soften and burn into mine. "There's only one pair of eyes I care about," he says, his voice low and husky. Before I can respond, his lips capture mine, hot and demanding, stealing my breath. My knees weaken as a rush of heat surges through me.

A polite but awkward cough breaks the moment.

"Um..." Tessa stands in the doorway, her face flushed red. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but if you don't start getting ready, you'll be late for the ball. You specifically asked me to keep you on time after the delay at the last event you attended."

I stifle a laugh at Nik's low growl of annoyance. The last time we were late, it was entirely his fault-or at least, mostly. A quickie before the gala had turned into anything but a quick sex session. We'd arrived an hour behind schedule, flustered but thoroughly satisfied. I smile at the memory.

Nik's fingers trace the curve of my waist, bringing me back to the present. "We'll finish this later," he vows, his tone promising both mischief and retribution.

"Looking forward to it, Master." I grin wickedly, knowing exactly what that means. "Now stop making us late and let Tessa do her job." I nudge him lightly, breaking the spell of the moment. Nik groans in mock frustration as he releases me, striding into his closet through the archway just opposite.

Tessa works efficiently, her hands moving with practiced precision as she finishes my look. Most of my makeup and hair had been done earlier, so it's just the final touches-an extra sweep of blush, touching up my lipstick, a spritz of setting spray, and a little hair spray to keep my curls in place. In no time, I'm ready.

I turn to look at Nikolai. He is standing under soft lighting while Jon gives his hair one last brush. The tux fits him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and strong frame. The subtle diamond accents blend seamlessly with his otherwise all-navy ensemble, making him look even more striking.

Nik turns to me, his stormy grey eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, I forget how to breathe. He looks devastating. The corners of his mouth quirk into a small, knowing smile as he takes in my reaction.

"Speechless?" he teases, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.

"Completely," I manage to whisper, feeling my cheeks warm under his intense gaze. "You look so handsome, mi Amor."

"The tux is not half-bad," he concedes with a smirk, but before I can respond, he draws me into his arms, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that's soft yet electrifying. Pulling back slightly, his breath warms my ear as he murmurs, "No more spanks for tonight then." Then, he twirls me gently and my gown flares. "My beautiful queen," he says softly, his eyes gleaming with admiration.

I tilt my head with playful defiance, heat rising to my cheeks. "Dang it. Should've swapped it for a hideous tux," I quip with a grin. "Thank you, though."

A deep laugh rumbles from his chest, the sound vibrating through me. "Fine," he counters, his voice dropping suggestively. "A few spanks-if you beg like a good girl."

I meet his gaze, arching a brow. "I'll hold you to it," I say, satisfied with the promise behind his words.

Hand in hand, we walk down the corridors of the palace, the distant sounds of the orchestra drifting to us as we near the Grand Ballroom in the North Wing. The room is bathed in golden light from crystal chandeliers that hang like jewelled stars from the high ceiling, casting intricate patterns across the marble floor. The air smells faintly of roses and jasmine, the scent mingling with the soft rustle of silk gowns and tuxedos.

As we step into the ballroom, the room seems to pause for a moment, all eyes on us. I smile as we descend down the staircase.

Max, Nat, Dimitri, Katerina, Andrei, and Mikhail stand on the side of the staircase, looking at us with warm smiles on their faces. Klaus, Tori, and Kol stand behind them, looking as though they were laughing a moment ago and are trying to be quiet now. My smile deepens and my heart warms. Over twenty years with my big, beautiful, crazy family. Forever to go.

Nik leads me to the centre of the ballroom, where the musicians begin the first notes of a waltz. As the music swells, he pulls me close, a hand resting on the curve of my lower back and the other hand gently cradling my hand. We begin to move, his steps slow and deliberate, guiding me across the floor with a sensual grace that sends a shiver down my spine. The way his eyes lock onto mine-smouldering, intimate, and entirely possessive-makes the rest of the room fade away.

My breath hitches, emotions lodge themselves in my throat. "Can't believe it's been twenty years. Thank you for everything, Nik. None of this would have been possible without you." My voice comes out soft and full of emotions.

Nik pulls me even closer, his voice low and steady. "It's you who made all of this possible. You're everything Avalyn. And everything is you." He presses a kiss on my forehead.

The song ends and with it, our dance. Klaus replaces Nik.

First dance with the King. Second dance with the Crown Prince. Klaus's future looms ahead, especially with half the prophesy still unfulfilled. While the weight of leadership might take years to settle on his shoulders, I know he will grow into the role he is destined for.

"Once I become king, my first decree would be to ban ballroom dances. They're torture. Do you realise how hard it is to keep from tripping over the big gowns you women wear?" He complains. "And don't even get me started on the years of dance lessons forced on us when we were kids."

I laugh. Maybe the responsibility to settle will take a few years longer than I'd thought but I'm sure he'll get there. "Yes, I can see how torturous it would be for young men to get to dance with girls and make friends with them." I tease, letting my voice drip with playful sarcasm.

Klaus grins, flashing that roguish smile of his. "Maybe not all of it was bad."

The Ball went on and Nik and I circled the room, talking to our guests and enjoying the evening. We end up separating as the evening unfolds. I'm talking to a guest when my eyes fell on Tori and Kol, dancing on the floor.

They've been inseparable since childhood. They had been dating for as long as we could remember, but they never openly admitted to it because of our reservations. We didn't want them to be heartbroken in case they weren't each other's erasthai. I remember the countless restless nights we had spent worrying about it. But it all worked out when we found out that they were made for each other.

All of us had been ecstatic for them. They truly are perfect for each other. And I trust no one but Kol to keep my daughter happy.

A smile tugs at my lips as I watch them. Their dance ends, and I make my way over to them. Along the way, I'm stopped by a few guests, but when I finally reach them, Nik and Klaus are already with Tori and Kol.

"Have you seen the stars tonight?" Klaus says, his voice overly bright. "They're twinkling. Talking to me in morse code. I think the universe is speaking-"

Nik's eyes narrow in frustration as he looks at the group, his anger barely contained. "We're at a ball. If your mom finds out and gets upset, it'll be the end of you. Whatever this is," he says, pointing to Klaus, "undo it."

"But-"

My chest tightens, and I feel the familiar knot of dread tightening in my gut. Something isn't right. "What's going on?" I ask, joining them.

"Nothing, my Love," Nik says sweetly. "The kids were just being kids. Do you want to dance again?"

I look at Klaus. The unnaturally dilatated pupils, red eyes, and a darkness inside him mean only one thing. A cold wave of realization crashes over me and the ache in my chest growing into something fierce. He is using again. The anger I feel is so hot, it burns through my veins, but it's the betrayal that cuts the deepest. He promised me he would stop.

My voice is low, controlled, but the emotion behind it is undeniable. "Klaus will be joining the military, starting tomorrow. Make the necessary arrangements."

I can see the blood drain from Klaus's face, the horror setting in. "Mom-"

The weight of my decision presses down on me, but I stand firm, unyielding. "Leave the party at once."

"Av-" Nik tries to say something but I've made my mind.

"My decision is final," I say, my voice icy and unrecognisable even to myself.

Nik and I get through the night just fine but an unspoken tension lingered. By the time we made it back to our bedroom, the air is charged with with palpable energy.

A sliver of guilt slid inside my chest. Maybe I've been too harsh. Maybe I-

"I agree with your decision," Nik says, surprising me. "The weight of fulfilling the prophesy is immense and it made me sympathise with him. It made me soft. Lenient. And look where that led us. It's all my fault. If I'd set him straight the first time I caught him..." Nik presses his lips looks away.

A sharp pain stabs my heart. "This isn't your fault, Nik," I say softly, placing a hand on his arm. "Some paths are chosen, no matter how many times we try to intervene. This isn't on you."

Nik's gaze flickered to mine, his composure cracking to reveal the storm of emotion beneath. "It is our responsibly to prepare the kids for their future," he says, his voice tinged with frustration and regret. "We've always believed that they don't need to be perfect-just strong enough to rise when it matters. But Klaus..." he exhales sharply. "He can't even control his impulses. How the hell is he going to save the universe?"

I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling heavily on my shoulders. He's right, and we both know it.

"We need to tell them about the prophecy," I say, my voice quieter now but resolute. The statement lingers between us. We had decided to not tell the kids about it. We wanted to let fate take its course and lead them to their destiny, the way it happened with us. The way it is supposed to be. We also did not want to put that kind of pressure on them at such a young age. But... "Shielding them from the truth hasn't done any good. Maybe this is what Klaus needs to finally step up-to understand the stakes and get his act together."

Nik turns away, his jaw clenched, and I can almost see the war raging within him. "Do you think that will help them?" he asks, his tone wary.

"I don't know," I admit. "But maybe knowing the truth will shift something inside him. Help him become ready for when the time comes. He needs this."

Nik is silent, but the tension in his posture softens just a little, as though my words have given him a sliver of hope to hold onto. "Okay." He gives me a tight nod. "We tell him tomorrow morning, before he leaves."

I nod, my gaze lowering. This isn't the future I wanted for Klaus but if this is where life has led us, I'm sure it's for a reason. "I just hope that everything turns out okay," I say softly.

Nik draws me in his warm embrace. "It will," he says, his voice steady and sure. "And if it doesn't, we'll be right here to fix it."

I tilt my head upward just as Nik leans down, and when our lips meet, the tension of the night melts away. In that moment, I know that no matter what happens, we'll face it together, and somehow, it will all work out.

The next morning, sunlight streams into the living room, painting it in a warm glow. It looks like a good day but a sinking feeling deep in my stomach tells me that something is wrong.

I step out into the hallway and nearly collide with Tori and Kol, who have just entered the living room. Tori's face is pale, her usual composure cracking as she meets my eyes. She swallows hard.

My heart slows. "What is it?"

"Klaus left," she says quietly.

My heart feels like it skips a beat. "What?"

"He's joining the military," Tori explains. "He asked to be stationed far from Imporia."

"Where?" My voice is sharper than I intended, the urgency clawing at me.

Tori shakes her head. "He didn't say. And asked to be left alone for a while."

"I need to see him." My feet are already moving as the words leave my mouth, propelling me toward the elevator.

"Aunt Avalyn," Kol's voice, soft but firm, stops me in my tracks. "He needs some time."

I turn back to face him, the ache in my chest tightening. "What did he say?"

Kol nods, his expression pained. "He came to our room before he left. He was upset. Angry-more at himself than anyone else. He hates himself for breaking his promise to you. He said he needs to prove-to himself and to you-that he's worthy. That he can be the person you believe he's capable of being."

My heart sinks further, guilt and worry swirling into a chaotic storm.

"He's not alone, Aunt Avalyn," Kol adds gently. "We'll keep in touch with him. But for now, he needs this."

I nod slowly, though every fibre of my being screams to chase after Klaus, to bring him back, tell him that he doesn't need to go, or prove anything to anyone. But maybe Kol is right. Maybe this is Klaus's way of finding his path, his strength.

Still, I can't shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of a much larger battle-for Klaus and for all of us.

Niklaus

Jenny stares at the entrance of the club through the car window. Anxiety and fear radiate off her in waves so palpable I can smell it.

"You don't have to do this," I say, my voice measured.

She turns to look at me, her expression shifting from uncertainty to grim determination. "No. But I need to." Her hand grazes the diamond collar around her neck. "We've suffered long enough. It's time to end this."

I smile. "I knew you were perfect for the job."

Stepping out of the car, I walk around and open the door for her. Offering her a hand, I help her out. Jenny unties the belt of her long coat, letting it slip from her shoulders and tossing it back inside the car.

She stands before me in a red mesh dress that barely covers her, the fabric completely sheer and leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Her blonde hair falls in loose, seductive curls, the tips brushing against the swell of her breasts, teasing where the fabric clings tight to her chest. Beneath the dress, a black lace bra strains to conceal her, lifting her breasts and accentuating her gravity-defying cleavage, drawing all eyes to it.

Her panties match the bra, a tiny strip of lace that hides only what's necessary, the thin fabric clinging to her hips. I run my fingers along the waistband, adjusting it higher up her hips.

A shiver runs through her body and goosebumps rise on her skin. She bits down on her lip.

"It's a bit chilly. We'll head in quickly." I tighten my grip on her hand, spinning her around. The back is just as I imagined-a thong that leaves her completely exposed.

Her legs are encased in black stockings, attached to a garter belt that wraps around her thighs, framing them perfectly. The heels she's wearing are so high they make her legs look impossibly long.

Jenny looks at me, her eyes full of uncertainty. "Do I look okay?"

"You look perfect," I reassure her.

The doubt fades from her face, replaced by a confident smile. "Thank you."

"Ready?"

She nods.

I playfully tug a lock of her hair. "High protocol, Jen."

She bites her lip and whispers, "Yes, Master, I'm sorry. I'm ready, Master."

"Good girl." I smile, satisfied by the submission in her tone, and start toward the entrance. Jenny falls into perfect step beside me, just a pace behind.

The 'club' is hidden in plain sight- a large, unmarked shipping container, one of many, at the edge of a sprawling yard by the dock. The entrance is a small, unassuming door guarded by a burly man with his arms crossed, his face stern and unwelcoming. That's why this place has gone unnoticed for so long by the authorities.

As we approach, the man notices me, recognition settling it. But then he spots Jenny beside me, and his posture relaxes.

He steps aside. "Have a good evening, Prince Niklaus," he mutters as I pass.

"You too," I respond coolly, leading Jenny inside.

The smell of alcohol, sweat, and the mingling scents of humans and supernaturals hits me as soon as we step inside. The pounding music pulls me back to my party days. I might have actually had fun tonight if I didn't have a different agenda.

I keep half my attention on Jenny as I scan the room. The interior of the container is surprisingly well-furnished for what it looks like from the outside. The space is spread across two levels, with an open floor plan. On the ground floor, a large bar stretches along the back wall, and most of the crowd is dancing and grinding on the central dance floor. Standing tables line the perimeter, where people drink, chat, or observe the chaos around them. There are two emergency exit doors on each side of the club.

I glance up. The ceiling is high, and a second floor runs around the periphery, reserved for VIPs.

I make my way upstairs, feeling eyes on me as I pass. A man I recognize from my research as the club manager greets me with an eager smile. "It's an honor to be graced by your presence, Prince Niklaus." News travels fast around here. "I'm Frederick, the club manager. Please, allow me to show you to a table."

"Thank you," I reply with a nod.

Frederick leads me to a secluded corner of the upper level, where a plush L-shaped couch offers a perfect view of the action below. "This is your table, Prince Niklaus. If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to let me know. I'll be right here to take care of your every need."

"Much appreciated, Frederick," I say, settling into the couch with Jenny beside me. "For now, I'll take a bottle of Macallan and a red-headed slave."

He hesitates before he speaks, his voice laced with unease, "I apologize, Prince Niklaus, but we don't rent slaves here. That's... not legal."

"Come on now, Frederick, we both know that's not true." I place a firm hand on his shoulder, letting my lycan side surface just enough to make my point. He immediately squirms and breaks into sweat. "This club has a reputation. And that's exactly what I'm here for." I pull a bundle of soans from my jacket and slide it into his hand. "I'm sure you can make some concessions for me and my special friend." I nod toward Jenny, who anyone with a shred of sense would recognize as a slave, even without a leash. Just standing beside me, she's a bold statement that I don't care about the anti-slavery laws.

His eyes glaze over for a few seconds, and I know he's mind-linking someone-likely the club's owner. "Of course, Prince Niklaus. As I said, we're here to provide anything you desire."

"Just as I thought."

"We have a special area reserved for our most exclusive guests and their special friends," he says, stealing a glance at Jenny. "Please, allow me to show you."

I nod, wrapping an arm around Jenny's waist and pulling her closer to me.

Frederick leads us to a door guarded by a bouncer, marked 'Private'. We walk down a dimly lit corridor before he opens another door, gesturing for us to enter.

The room is spacious, though not as large as the main area. It's lit in a way that leaves the patrons in shadows while only the common spaces are illuminated. Large U-shaped couches line the perimeter, offering privacy to each table. In the center of the room is a circular stage with a grand piano, where a woman plays softly and sings just loud enough to drown out conversation.

Security guards stand in all corners of the room and at the door. Women wearing lingerie and collars serve drinks to the patrons. They have a number branded into their skin a little above their ass. It's small and the skin is pale and raised, which means it was done a long time ago. They are definitely slaves owned by the club. My blood boils but I reign myself in. All in due time, I remind myself. I look around, hoping to catch Mitch, the owner, but don't spot him. I'm certain he's lurking somewhere nearby.

As Frederick leads me to a table, I pass a few others. At one, a trio of women enjoy a strip show, with young, attractive male slaves giving them lap dances or eat them out. At another, a man fists another male's ass while those around the table casually play poker.

"I hope everything is to your liking, Prince Niklaus," Frederick says as I settle onto an empty couch. "I'll have a bottle of Macallan and a redhead sent over shortly."

"Yes, thank you," I reply dismissively as I slip a hand into my pocket and pull out a leash. I attach it to Jenny's collar and give it a tug.

She kneels at my feet, her body rigid, but her eyes wandering the room, taking in her surroundings.

I grab her chin, turning her face toward me. In her eyes, I see unease and anxiousness. I spread my legs and pat my right thigh.

Her cheeks tint red as she rises and seats herself on my leg, her hands clenched into fists on her thighs. I place a hand on her knee and turn her inward to face me.

"Eyes on me, Jen," I murmur softly. "I've got you."

She lowers her head in a nod.

Moments later, a server appears with a bottle of Macallan and a slave in tow.

"Your order, Prince Niklaus," the server says as she puts down a bottle on the table.

"Pour two glasses," I tell the server before turning my attention to the slave. She is a A tall, striking redhead wearing a simple leather collar and white panties that mark her as a virgin. Her posture is rigid- her eyes cast down, her hands are behind her back, her legs spread shoulder-width apart. It seems that she is new to this scene.

She picks up the bottle, unscrews the cap, and pours two glasses.

"You can go now," I dismiss the server, who bows her head and hurries off.

I hand Jenny a glass. "Drink."

She downs it in one go, her lips twisting as the strong liquid burns its way down her throat. I refill her glass, and she drinks again. Slowly, her shoulders relax, and her pupils dilate.

"How do you feel?" I whisper against her ear.

"Better. Thank you, Master," she responds, her voice soft and more at ease.

With Jenny settled, I focus on the slave. I notice that unlike others, she does not have a branded mark above her ass.

"Do a spin," I command.

Slowly, she spins around herself. Her entirely body is unmarked. Something is off. She's not a club slave.

I glance around the room. Still no sign of Mitch, but I catch the subtle shift in the atmosphere. The eyes of every security guard, the bartender, and even Frederick are fixed on me. They're watching closely, more than usual.

It's time to up my game.

"Pour yourself a drink too," I tell the slave. "I like my women a little drunk."

Then, I look at Jen. She has sensed the change in my mood, and is looking at me, waiting for my next command.

"Take off your dress, pet," I say, unhooking her collar with a flick of my wrist.

Without hesitation, she moves. The dress slips off her body in a swift motion, pooling on the floor. If I thought that the dress didn't cover her, I was wrong. Because now, in her full glory, her body is delectable.

I grab her ass, lift her from my lap, and place her down beside me on the couch. Her body melts into the cushions, a perfect display of obedience and allure. I wrap my hand around her throat and push her back, pinning her down. Jenny's lips part as her body gives in, hair splaying out around her head like a halo of gold.

"Stay," I command as I pull out a small vial from my pocket, its contents shimmering white under the dim lights. I smile, amused by the familiar temptation.

Uncorking the vial, I carefully pour a thin line of powder across Jenny's tits, and then another from her cleavage down to her abdomen. The way her chest rises and falls betrays the trepidation behind her otherwise submissive posture.

I roll a bill from my wallet and lean in, snorting the line off her tits in one slow motion. Only a fraction of a familiar burn and rush hits me but it still reminds me of nights long past. If only this were supernatural-grade stuff. But this will dilate my pupils and make me look high, which is exactly what I want right now.

I grin nonetheless, savouring the taste that clings to the back of my throat, and then lower myself for round two, pulling the line from her bra down to her panties.

Her back arches and goosebumps rises on her skin. I grab her throat and pull her up to meet my gaze. Her eyes widen, and her chest heaves.

The faint sound of footsteps approaching grows louder.

I grin at Jenny, my grip growing firm and possessive. "I'm going to fuck you unconscious."

I look upwards. A shaved head gleams under the dim light, a neck tattoo peaking form the collar, and a shiny suit. Mitch. I hook the leash back to Jenny's collar and give it a firm tug. She quickly slides off the sofa and kneels by my feet.

I raise my brow at the man.

"Apologies for disturbing you, Prince Niklaus. I'm Mitch Hogner, the owner of this club," he says, extending his hand.

I shake his hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine. I hope I'm not disturbing you," he says, stealing a glance at Jenny. "I heard you were here and thought I should come wish you a good evening. And let you know that if there is anything that you need, anything, just say the word and I will do my best to make it happen."

I smile, knowing the kind of power I wield in places like this. "Well then, join me for a drink." I gesture to the couch.

Mitch's eyes gleam with opportunity. No one in their right mind would refuse an invitation from a Prince. He quickly takes a seat across from me. With a snap of his fingers, Mitch summons a server. Moments later, she appears with an empty glass and a slave in tow.

She pours the whiskey for Mitch as I lift my glass.

"To an exciting evening," I toast.

"To an exciting evening," Mitch echoes, his voice laced with anticipation.

I take a sip, feeling the familiar burn glide down my throat, my gaze never leaving his. The mix of awe and subtle calculation in his expression is unmistakable. This is where the real game begins.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a small vial, holding it up between two fingers. "Coke?" I ask.

Mitch hesitates for a brief second, his eyes darting between me and the vial. "Don't do drugs?" I say, my tone laced with judgement.

He quickly shakes his head. "Of course, I do," he replies, almost too fast.

I toss the vial to him. "This is a special blend made by the Royal Chef. It's a higher grade than anything you've ever seen on the market. Go ahead, have some fun."

He catches the vial, intrigued. "I must say, Prince Niklaus, I had believed the media when it portrayed you as a reformed man. I'm very happy to know that's not the case." He unscrews the cap, giving it a quick sniff before his expression shifts into something more appreciative. "Your reputation precedes you," he continues, his voice filled with a mix of reverence and excitement. "I've heard of your chef's special blends, but I've never had the privilege."

"Well, now you have," I reply.

Mitch carefully taps some of the powder onto the table in front of him, rolling a bill between his fingers. With a practiced motion, he leans down and snorts the line, inhaling sharply as he sits back, blinking rapidly.

"Good?" I ask Mitch, though I already know the answer.

He grins, the edge of his unease melting away. "Exceptional," he breathes, his pupils dilating as the effects hit him.

He grabs the slave and pushes her down to her knees between his legs. Half way through opening his belt, he pauses. "Do you mind?"

"She's yours. Go ahead."

He quickly opens his slacks, grabs the slave's hair, and shoves her mouth down his dick. "Ah," he moans, his eyes sliding shut as the slave works him.

I glance over at Jenny, still kneeling by my side, her head lowered. I run my fingers through her hair, a subtle gesture of control and reassurance.

"That's a lovely slave you have there," he mutters.

"Yes, she is. And very, very special," I reply softly.

"I would love to see what makes her so special," he says, eyeing Jenny hungrily.

"That, my friend, is something you will have to experience first-hand. Her training is what has made her so special. She is one of eleven slaves that have undergone four yearlong extensive training to become a royal slave. She is perfection personified."

Mitch raises a brow. "Royal slave training? I thought-"

I laugh. "You don't actually believe all that nonsense, do you? You really think the Royal family doesn't have slaves to do their bidding?"

Mitch's eyes turned calculative as he stared at Jenny. "I always thought that that might be the case. What else are humans good for, right?" He chuckles darkly.

"You're a smart man, Mitch." I take a sip of my drink, savouring the moment. "Let me show you something fun," I say, locking eyes with Jenny.

"Orgasm," I command.

Jenny's body responds instantly. Her breath catches, eyes fluttering shut as a soft moan escapes her lips. A tremor runs through her, her hips subtly rocking as the pleasure builds. Her moans grow louder, turning into desperate gasps, her back arching as her orgasm overtakes her. With a final gasp, she shudders, her body quaking before she collapses at my feet, breathless and flushed. And that's the power of hypnosis and trigger words.

"Show us," I say.

Jenny slides her hand between her thighs, gathering her wetness before holding her fingers up, glistening for Mitch to see.

"Unbelievable," he says, his voice full of awe.

"She will do literally anything I say without hesitation. Watch this. Stop breathing, pet."

Without hesitation, she presses her lips together and pinches her nose shut. As moments pass, her eyes starting to flutter shut and her body strains under the command, but she obeys without question. Another minute ticks by, and she collapses limp at my feet.

"Fuck, that's hot," Mitch mutters, his grip tightening in the slave's hair as he thrusts deeper into her mouth. He gives one final, forceful thrust, burying himself completely as he spills inside her, letting out a low, guttural growl of pleasure. He holds her head in place, forcing her to swallow every drop, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face as he finally pulls away and pushes her aside.

Then, he leans forward, focusing on Jenny who is lying half on the floor and half on my feet. "What if someone wants to get their hands on a slave that has gone through royal slave training...?" Mitch asks, his voice full of curiosity and greed.

"Now that is impossible," I say and lean back.

"I'm willing to pay any price."

"It's not about money. It's impossible because only a royal slave can train someone to become a royal slave. And they are all currently owned by a royal family member," I explain. "But..."

He leans in.

"I can arrange for Jenny to train someone. For a price, of course."

"Name it." He looks at me with such conviction, I know will be able to get what I want out of him. I let the moment hang, tension simmering in the air.

"I want a name. Who is smuggling humans out of Soare-Luna?" I demand.

His expression shifts, and the confidence that once radiated from him falters, if only for a moment. I can see him calculating the risks, weighing the value of his secrets against the deal on the table and the threat I pose.

"I know authorities are cracking down hard on establishments that rent slaves. If your operation wants to stay under the radar, you'd better tell me who's behind the trafficking."

He stiffens but doesn't reply.

I press on. "I'm sure the person behind the smuggling is aware the authorities are after them. If they want to get them off their back, tell them to contact me. We can cut a deal, and I'll handle the rest." I rise, pulling Jenny to her feet. She's conscious now but weak, so I steady her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"What kind of a deal?" Something about his curiosity is suspicious. I have a feeling that he is more involved in this than I thought.

"A cut from the profit, of course," I reply, leaning back.

The stiffness in his posture eases slightly, but his gaze remains sharp, calculating. He's mind-linking, I can tell from the distant look in his eyes.

"I can arrange a meeting tonight," he finally says, "but the smuggler is private-no slaves allowed during negotiations."

I glance at Jenny, unease stirring deep in my gut. "My pet is very discreet. She won't be a problem."

Mitch pauses, mind-linking again. "He says no meeting, then."

Damn it.

"If I may suggest," Mitch says smoothly, "let us take care of your slave. She can give my slaves a taste of her training. She'll be comfortable, and I promise, we'll ensure her safety."

I glance at Jenny, my instincts screaming not to leave her alone, but I'm so damn close to getting what I need. The pull of the deal outweighs the doubt.

"Alright," I finally say, unhooking her leash. I gently brush my fingers under her chin, tilting her head up. "Be my good girl and do a good job."

"Yes, Master," she whispers, her voice steady but soft.

"I'll be back soon," I murmur, brushing my thumb against the ruby in her collar-her panic button. A subtle reminder.

"I'll wait for you, Master," she replies, her eyes full of trust, making it that much harder to leave her behind.

Mitch guides me down the dimly lit corridor and up a set of stairs, leading us into an empty office. I take a seat, my posture poised but senses on high alert.

"He will be here in a few minutes," he says.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, pulling my attention. I pull it out, and my heart drops at the notification: Jenny's location not detected.

Panic grips me. Without a word, I bolt from the office, my footsteps pounding against the stairs as I descend to the basement – Jenny's last known location. I slam the door open, and the sight before me sends a chill down my spine.

A large, rectangular machine with a pitch-black screen dominates the room, flanked by two men standing guard. In front of it, another man barks orders, pushing women in a line forward. "Keep moving," he growls, shoving the next woman into the machine. She vanishes, swallowed by the dark screen as if into thin air.

What the hell is this?

"Where is Jenny?" I demand, my voice low and menacing.

Before I get an answer, a sharp pain pierces the side of my neck. My vision blurs, and the last thing I see is Mitch standing nearby, a syringe in hand, a smirk playing on his lips as the world fades to black.

Nysa

Oh God.

Sarai's tongue flicks against my clit with a precision that sends a jolt through me. "Aah..." My eyes roll back and a moan escapes my lips.

Her mouth moves with teasing strokes, building the pressure steadily before she sucks harder on my clit. My thighs clamp her head and my fingers dig into her head, pressing her closer, feeling every lick and swirl of her relentless tongue.

Her fingers inside me thrust deep, matching the rhythm of her tongue and I can feel myself getting close. My hips move on their own accord, desperate for more, for the release that is just out of reach.

Then it hits. My body arches as the orgasm crashes through me. My moans are loud as my body pulses, tightens, and trembles. But Sarai doesn't let up, her mouth and fingers still working me until I'm thoroughly spent.

She raises from between my legs, her eyes full of lust and her mouth and chin glistening with my juices. She raises her hand and sucks her fingers clean.

I smile as I caress her cheek and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You did well, Sar, thank you."

"Anytime for you, Ny. Hope you're feeling better now," she replies.

Her words remind me of Maa. Muc. My desperation to be a High Warrior. I need to talk to her. "I do. I think I'm ready to go talk to Maa now," I breathe out, swinging my legs off the bed and standing up. I pull my trousers up to my waist and glance back at Sarai. She's sprawled on her stomach, legs folded up and swinging in the air, her hands propping her up.

She grins at me. "All the best."

I lean down and pop a kiss on her cheek. "See you later," I say, stepping outside.

The path home through the town is needlessly long so I cut through the forest. The evening air is cool and calming as I jog through the trail. Through the trees, my cottage appears and I pick up my pace.

I walk inside and Parry and Rupi, Maa's and my messenger parrots that are sat on their stands perk up. "Hello," I greet them.

"Hello," they greet simultaneously in the same voice.

I pause at the sight of Maa's bedroom door. All the tension in my muscles that Sarai helped me elevate returns. What if she shuts me down as always? What if it doesn't go well?

I pace outside her door.

"I'm not being a coward," I tell the parrots. They turn to each other in silent judgement.

I look at the rug covering the teak wood floor of our cottage's living space. It's made from the fur of a bear that Maa killed. Maa is... formidable. She is the leader of the two Matrikas who govern our island, Nari. The knowledge and power she possesses are unmatched. People often say she is blessed by the Gods.

The crackling of fire in the central clay chimenea snaps me out of my thoughts. The wall above it is covered with all of my life accomplishments: drawings, medals and trophies-all hung by Maa. But her most prized item on the wall is the canines of the first bear that I killed.

Despite her role in this world, she is my mother and she loves me very much. That has always been my biggest strength and is becoming the very thing driving us apart. Not anymore.

I look at her door again. Just do it, Nysa. You know you want this. You have trained for this. You are ready for the Muc. I raise my hand and knock.

"Come in," Maa says.

She stands in front of the mirror and is wrapping a muslin sheet around her chest.

At first glance, Maa seems calm, confident, and resolute. But the way a small crease forms between her eyebrows, her nose scrunches ever so slightly, and her lips press together, I know she is anxious. Of course, she is. Tonight is the night of the Muc.

"Let me help you." I take the muslin roll from her hands and wrap it around her.

I swallow. This is it. This is my chance. "Maa?"

She looks at my reflection in the mirror.

You can do it, Nysa. "Can I come with you?"

"We've already had this conversation, Nysa," she replies in a clipped tone that normally would end any further discussion. But not this time.

"That was a year ago. I have gotten much better since then. You've seen it. You know it. I'm ready."

"Hand me a pin," she says when I reach the end of the muslin sheet.

I press my lips together as I hand her a couple of pins from the dressing table. For a moment, I watch her struggle to fasten its end to the rest of the bodice. I sigh, take the pin from her hand, secure it for her, and then make sure to place enough pins to ensure the binder won't give.

Once that is done, Maa runs her fingers through her hair, which is just long enough for her to tuck behind her ears. She bunches it up, slices the ends with a pair of scissors and tosses the chopped-up bits into the bin. A satisfied look crosses her eyes as she weaves her fingers through her hair again.

Dozens of questions crowd my head. I bite the inside of my cheek.

She grabs a bottle of perfume and opens it. Instantly, the smell of damp soil after heavy rains envelops my senses. She rubs it on the sides of her neck, behind her ears, and on her wrist.

The Matrikas and the High Warriors always use scents with woodsy or musky tones for the night of the Muc. It must mean something.

"Is that what men smell like? The woods?" I ask.

She freezes for a moment before placing the bottle of perfume back on the dresser.

"Death is a man, Nysa." Her dark eyes meet mine. "Curiosity about him will lead you straight to his door."

How could that be true? All three Matrikas and the elders lived among men in Valoria for decades before they settled here and founded our female-only island, Nari. They are all alive and well. Two of the Matrikas journey back to Valoria twice a year during the night of the Muc, accompanied by a select six High Warriors-warriors they personally select and rigorously train for the mission. Their mission is to return with as many female newborns as they can rescue, and some supplies that we need. There have never been any casualties.

Since childhood, I've been curious about men and am so proud of the good we do that I decided I wanted to be a High Warrior. Since then, I have trained tirelessly to become worthy of the title. But no matter how good I am, Maa never deems me ready. The truth is that she is unwilling to risk my safety. Her overprotectiveness is suffocating me.

"And yet you disguise yourselves as men and go to Valoria twice a year. It cannot be that bad."

Maa looks at me in disbelief. She presses her lips together and turns away. Jerking open the chest at the foot of her bed, she pulls out the clothes that I have long assumed the army of Valoria wears- a dark blue t-shirt, pants in shades of navy, black, and grey, a matching jacket and black boots.

"I want to know the truth of the world we live in. You cannot shield everyone from what is out there forever."

Her jaw clenches as she pushes her trousers down her waist and then hastily wears the uniform of the Valorian army.

"Death might be a man, but he is also a part of life. He is the other half of the force of life-of a woman," I continue.

Her silence fuels the fire that has been steadily growing in me. I can't dismiss this brewing feeling in my stomach. Something is not right. I want to-no, I need to get to the bottom of it. The only place I can start is the problem that is right in front of me.

"Maa!" My fist slams down on the chest of drawers.

Maa's eyes snap to mine. I spot a sliver of fear in them before it is overshadowed by concern. "Your eyes. It's happening again."

I look into the mirror and my usual dark brown eyes have turned a deep shade of forest green. Veins, like tendrils of darkness, trace intricate patterns beneath my eyes, fading back into the skin around my cheekbones.

"Have you not been taking your medicine?" Maa asks.

The first time it happened, four months ago, I panicked, thinking a spirit had possessed me and I was dying or worse. Thank goodness Maa figured it out and calmed me down. She concocted an herbal mix that would prevent it from recurring. It only happened once after that when I ran out of the medicine.

"I have. Every morning mixed in warm water." I touch the skin under my eyes. My unease spreads. I look at Maa's reflection in the mirror. A ghost of a hand grips my throat and chokes it. I feel the need to drink water but I know from experience that it doesn't help.

"I think you should have it again."

My throat strains when I try to speak so I nod instead.

"Come, I'll make it for you."

My eyes flicker from green to dark brown and back. I force myself to look away from the mirror and follow Maa out. She quickly pours some water into a pot and places it on the fire in the chimenea. While the water heats up, she scoops out a spoonful of my medicine from its container and empties it into a bowl.

Once it warms up, she uses a thick cloth to take the pot out and pours some into the bowl. She mixes the concoction and hands it to me. "Drink," she says, her tone heavy with worry.

I grab the bowl, squeeze my eyes shut, hold my breath, and down the atrocious concoction. In a matter of minutes, the knot in my throat loosens.

"Let me know if it happens again, I might have to make changes to your dosage. But I will check and let you know." Maa squeezes my shoulder.

"What's happening to me, Maa?" This isn't normal. I have read every book there is in the library on illnesses and found nothing. Only Maa seems to know what is wrong with me and it is one of the many things she keeps to herself.

"You're going to be alright, Nysa," she says. "But I think you should stay at home tonight. It will be best if you don't come see us off in the evening." So that people don't see you like this. "Get some rest instead," she adds, her tone gentle.

I want to argue but I understand. I wrap my arms around her. "Take care of yourself, Maa. Come back home to me."

She rubs my back. "Always," she says and kisses my cheek.

So, I stay at home instead of going to the dock to see them off like everyone else.

I nudge the ground with a toe, making the hammock sway. I look at the silhouette of the tree above my head, its branches reaching out like an evil witch's fingers toward the night sky. It is almost as if they are trying to reach for the stars but they never could.

My thoughts wander before they end up on the topics they always do. Muc. Men. Valoria.

To ensure their safety, the Matrikas and High Warriors disguise themselves as men before traveling to Valoria. This is where my image of men comes from: they have short hair, lack breasts, and, from my observations of mammals, possess a penis instead of a vagina. They might also be larger than us. When I ask about their nature, I only get the phrase all the Matrikas repeat in response: 'Death is a man, and curiosity about him will lead you straight to his door.'

The secrecy and non-replies are starting to irk me.

I hear a distinct crunch in the undergrowth and it startles me. I stop the hammock. Our cottage is on the outskirts of town so it isn't uncommon for an animal to wander into the backyard. It is mostly deer, raccoons or foxes. An occasional badger. I don't worry about them much.

The animals that I do keep an eye out for are the bigger predators. We have a pack of wolves, a few mountain lions, and bears living in the forest. Although they usually stay deep within the woods and avoid the human settlements, one can never be too sure.

The snapping of a twig puts me on high alert. Only a large animal with substantial body weight would make a sound like that. My hand instinctively reaches for the bow that I always keep by the hammock. The feeling of the smooth wood against my palm is calming.

A current of excitement races through my veins. The possibility of getting to kill something big is enticing.

Quietly, I slide off the hammock and pick up my quiver. I take a look. It is fully stocked. Perfect. Slinging the strap across my chest, I look around.

The backyard is an expansive open space, bordered by bushes and trees that gradually thicken the farther you venture from the cottage. The crunch I heard came from the east and the current position of the moon gives me better visibility. Perfect.

I can tell that the animal is trying to be light on its feet but I am one of the best huntresses of Nari. It isn't going to surprise me. I nock an arrow and aim it towards the general direction of the sound.

Half a minute later, I hear a low, rumbling grunt. Then, a few leaves rustle and I spot a bush tremble. I refocus my aim and release the arrow.

I wait for a cry. A whimper. A howl. Something.

All I hear is a deep grunt. "Aahh! Fuck!"

What is that? No animal makes that kind of sound.

A moment later, a large figure stumbles out of the shadows of the woods and falls to its hands and knees on the open ground of my backyard. That's definitely a human.

She has short, light hair and a back that is wide and muscular, almost unnaturally so. She collapses on the ground.

That's odd. My arrow has only nicked her arm.

I move closer. I have never seen a woman this big before. I didn't think it was even possible.

Thick, wavy hair sticks to her head and the back of her neck. Her tanned skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat and she is shivering. A bloodied rag is wrapped around her forearm. The skin around it looks angry and swollen. That's not good.

I kneel down and tap her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?" Her skin is burning hot. I don't know who she is or what has happened to her but one thing is clear-she needs urgent medical help.

She groans as she rolls onto her back. Her eyes are half open and her cheeks are flushed.

Something isn't right. She has large, round shoulders, an oddly shaped chest, and hard, defined abs. The piece of animal skin wrapped around her hips has come undone, displaying two 'V' shape indents along the lower part of her torso that point towards a-

I gasp.