The Rogue King's Cursed Mate

"The first rule of revenge is survival, the second rule is silence, the third is precision, and the fourth? Don't look back."

˙❥ VALKYRIE

How does one feel when they're different?

White eyes.

White hair.

An Omega.

Worse, they're wolf-less.

Caught in a circle of strong werewolves, their eyes wide and fierce, burning with intensity. I could hear the tiny, hushed whispers of their voices.

Mothers held their pups firmly while the male werewolves stood protectively, as if I were an omen.

"She's a witch."

"Murderer."

A loud snarl drew out from one of them, and the circle separated to reveal a man in a shiny gold robe, his black hair damped with gel and perfectly styled.

Alpha Jayden.

I stared up at him, drool mixed with blood pooling at the corner of my mouth as a low whimper escaped my lips. He wasn't alone. Amara, a pack friend turned sister, clung behind, a mischievous glint settled within her eyes, and a small smile grazed her cheeks.

Jayden crouched to my level and his fingers snaked beneath my chin, lifting my head to meet his blue ones now tainted with coldness.

"Why did you do that?" He questioned, softly, yet the words sliced through my chest like a sword laced with silver.

Yesterday, I lost my mother. She was fine and doing well until she suddenly slumped. I watched as her eyes rolled back and her mouth and nose dripped with black blood, struggling to survive with her arms spread frantically, gasping for air. I was petrified yet glued to my stance and just like that, I watched as life seeped out of her.

I couldn't save her and before you ask why I couldn't call anyone, it's because no one would have helped. Not the Alpha king, Alpha Ryder, or his son, Jayden, who has always been the only best friend I had, nor Amara, who has been taken care of under our roof after she lost her parents to the war in the pack years ago.

Not the Beta, pack members, or doctors.

I know because my Dad had died that way, even when I ran with my small feet. My mum had also gone to the Alpha, but we were shunned, disposed of, and meant to let my Dad die.

That day, my mum had tossed me aside, blaming me for the misfortune.

"Why did you have to come out this way?! Like the witch that had been killed on the night of the blood moon?"

She sniffed.

"Why do I have to be the one to suffer for what I knew nothing about?"

I heard I wasn't the only one who had these features. An Omega called Akira, said to be a witch, was burned by the members of this pack, even before I was born. She had striking white hair and eyes and a similar birthmark beneath her navel.

I, too, wonder. Why was I born this way?

Why do I have to bear the consequences of her brutal death when I haven't even been formed yet?

My parents are Omegas but not with these unique features.

Was I a witch?

And every day, I forgive my mother for her brutal, unbearable words, for her grievance toward me, because truly, I was to blame. But today, I wished I could be heard, for once.

"I didn't do it!" More blood poured out of my lips.

"I could feed your flesh right now to these hungry wolves, and decorate the pack's hall with your bones," he muttered, digging his long nails into my flesh. "Imagine if we had never sent someone to spy on you?"

My eyes darted to Amara, and it finally clicked. She was never by my side.

"Would you also tell her we're mates?" Amara chipped in, enjoying every bit of humiliation.

My eyes widened and my chest heaved heavily.

"Why?" I spun towards Amara, more blood trickling from my lips. "Tell me you're...lying?"

"I'm not." She laid her palm on his back. "At the mating ceremony."

My body felt like it was on ice- cold, still. Jayden was Amara's mate? And she never let me know?

How did I miss it?

The mating ceremony took place two full moons ago. I'd been devastated when I realized every one of my peers had seen their wolf except me. Alpha Jayden and Amara had consoled me, telling me it was normal for some werewolves not to see their wolf until the next full moon.

I was also relieved when I realized I wasn't the only one without a mate, too, but this...

My nose flared, and the hairs on my skin rose.

"Burn her!" Jayden ordered and I was dragged out of the gathering before I could even speak.

"Amara, you're going to be the Luna of the pack, please, beg him. I didn't do anything."

"I am Luna already." Amara's face hung into a practiced smile.

"Please!"

A heavy sack was thrown over my head and I was bundled like a bag of potatoes until a sharp, deafening voice shattered through my cries.

"Stop!"

For a moment, my heart steadied. Elder Raphael. He was my mother's friend. Since my dad died, he became close to my mum, and I, for one, thought something was going on between them.

He would not let them kill me. I know.

"The black market would start their annual bidding tomorrow, it would be a waste to just... burn her."

My heart leaped to my mouth. It wasn't what I was thinking.

I wrung within the sack. "No!"

"We can put her up for sale. The merchant, Mr. Greyback at the market is known for businesses like this, and the money can be used for funding the Alpha's mating ceremony."

I couldn't see them, but I could hear their soft hum and little clap. "Nice idea, Elder Raph," Jayden said and my soul almost met with the moon goddess.

Suddenly, a sharp object poked the side of my lap within the sack, but it was too late before I noticed, too late to beg once more as the silver, a substance used to harm and weaken werewolves, danced in my veins, and darkness enveloped me.

.

.

A DAY LATER

"SECTION 40, holding 2!" The booming voice of one of the handlers jolted me out of my reverie.

I sulked my eyes up, hissing inwardly from the interruption.

"Getting acquainted with the walls of your holding?" He said, wryly.

"Mmmph," I scoffed, "you have been here for ages, serving men whom you can only dream of becoming, yet you're talking about holdings? You're more of a slave than I am," I laughed.

"B!tch!" The handler spat, opening the locks of the holding. He grasped my hair in a tight hold, twisting and turning until my scalp tingled with pain.

>"She has a sharp mouth for a new slave," One of the slaves opposite mine whispered in a low tone.

>"Stop being a spoiled brat, whore," another snickered.

I grimaced, tightening my hold on the hand of the guard even when the chains were boring into my flesh but he didn't budge.

"You're lucky you're about to be sold," he muttered, "I would have buried my c0ck deep inside this fu©king sl*t hole you call a mouth until you bled."

He slammed my back against the wall.

"Sold?" One of the slaves screamed.

˙❥

"Sold?" I heard the shock in her voice.

Earlier today, in this cold room, I found myself. Wrapped within a brown, filthy rag gown.

I had opened my eyes and what came into view were three young girls, from the opposite holding, all watching with cold sneers.

"You look like that witch who died years ago in Hallow Wood pack," one taunted loudly.

It was my pack, the Hallow Wood pack. The pack I was thrown out of. That had laid false accusations on me.

That had left me here to die.

A low, painful groan rumbled in my chest. The silver was wearing but not without leaving my inside burning with pain and my whole body weak.

I stared at them again, blowing off the strands of hair that had lain beside my lips. "If I were a witch, I would make sure I leave here on time, then burn this whole place." I laughed menacingly.

"You can't leave here even tomorrow, witch, you're just brought in. We have been here for years and you think you will be exempted?"

Behind me, with my hands chained and my legs too weak to make huge steps, the handler pushed me forward but I didn't forget to stick out my tongue to the girls who had doubted me. Now I wish I were a witch.

It must have been cool, right?

"You know... You aren't supposed to be sold. Not today, not tomorrow, or even a year later," the handler stated.

"Then why?"

"I don't know, but maybe you hold some power, witch."

We reached the 'Red Den,' a term I heard from the handler for the large hall meant for the auction.

Before the affluent buyers at the stage of the hall, iron, dirt bars designed in the form of a kennel stood. Not too huge but large enough to contain two people. Without care, I was shoved inside.

The guard whom I just knew to be Doom, chuckled. He stepped closer to where I was, his ragged breath fanning the hairs on my skin, "If you look closely, you will see them. The wolves. The unmerciful. The ruthless. They buy slaves annually and best believe, you don't wanna know why?"

"Pleasure," I answered with my head riled back, eyes shut from the throbbing pain in my wrist.

"Not just that," he chuckled dryly. They make sure they breed.

My whole body shook with tremor. "And what happens to the pups"

"They continue what their mothers started. Satisfying the unending urges of the powerful men. They said c*nt like yours tasted like heaven."

"Pervert!"

"No, hun. The only perverts here are these pot-bellied wolves looking at you from beneath." And with that, he left, and my legs wobbled.

The omegas' are lowest in the pack. Born not of their own will but segregated by their very kind. We were told we're weak with wolves that could only purr. They said it can't hunt because it can't detect scent yet our scent turns their wolves on, making them yelp daily to be leashed out.

We aren't just wolves, we're a commodity, the most sought after, not out of pity or care but for labour and labor.

Slowly, I raised my head and I saw them. Their greedy eyes as they lay on me, sweeping over my form like a predator would over its prey. Like I was some artifacts, or maybe I am.

I forced myself to look up, to hold my head up high until my eyes met brown ones.

It was brown but dark in some way. I hated how my body shivered subconsciously.

What was that?

I averted my gaze and a loud voice blared within the large hall.

"This, as you can see, is a rare breed. A virgin omega," the auctioneer, a bald, ugly man, stepped closer to where I was. "Age 19 and of course, very pleasing to the eyes and in bed." He cackled.

"Oh, you don't believe me?" He ignited. Immediately, a young girl dressed in a short purple gown walked forward, hips swaying in precise motion with a smirk on her red cheek.

Before I could understand, the brown robe was yanked from my body, cold air hitting my skin. My hand flew to cover my bre@st, but it was held back by the cold, thick chains bound around my wrists.

There were loud hushes among the crowd.

"Oh, she has a very firm bosom." The elites didn't hide their amusement.

"The bidding starts at three hundred gold!" The auctioneer said.

"Five hundred gold," a young woman shouted immediately, my eyes widened in size.

"One thousand gold."

Tears clung to the corners of my eyes, threatening to fall.

"She looks weird but then, I love weird things," a pot-bellied man chuckled. "Two thousand gold."

I thought of my pack, my friends. Of the memories.

Of my mother. I was supposed to be mourning her death but here I am, being priced like cheap livestock.

"Six thousand gold." A voice that sent chills down my spine echoed within the hall, and it felt like there was no one else. Just space and air but my chest felt tight.

Even the auctioneer's mouth hung widely

"Six thousand gold?" I murmured to myself and my eyes trailed to the voice in the crowd.

He wasn't hard to see, of course. Amongst the crowd, his golden hair shone brightly, and his black coat, which clung to his body, gave off a dark, melancholy ambiance.

My skin tingled again, his gaze boring deeper than before, making my legs feel like jelly.

"No, please," I muttered inaudibly, praying to the moon goddess that someone else beat the price, but not one person did.

No one could.

"Did I hear six thousand gold?" The auctioneer finally spoke.

"Last chance..."

My heart beats loudly in my chest.

"The hammer is about to fall... Three... two.. one."

Silence.

"Sold!" The wooden gravel hit the hard surface.

Doom arrived at the cage, a playful smile visible on his scarred face.

"He's Alpha Ryker, the son of the community whore, Alpha Rheagor," Doom whispered, draping a thick robe over my body.

I hate that just anyone can touch me but I was left with no choice.

"And what do I need this information for?" I snort.

"Alpha Rheagor is said to buy slaves annually. He's obsessed and doesn't mind passing the tradition to his son. He's ruthless and the son... He's said to have killed the greatest rogue alive."

Fear slithered through me like smoke.

"It pains me that you have to go so quickly but I know I could only wish. For an omega with such vibrant, unique features, my chance of ever having the feel of your kind is rare." Doom added, but I was too preoccupied with my shaking thoughts to care.

The man who was able to kill the Rogue king.

I have heard the stories and now... My fate is taking me there.

I didn't know when we reached another building. A different design from the 'holding' and the auction hall. There, seated and dressed in that same intimidating coat with a daunting look, was Him.

★ RYKER

My fingers weaved carefully around the red piece of the coat's button, tightening the woven mold thread into the small hole.

"Your father awaits you in the carriage." Blaise, my beta walked into the room, his eyes void yet cloaked with something I couldn't decipher.

"What?" I scoffed.

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that attitude."

He turned around, taking in the grey decor of my room as if he hadn't been here countless times.

"You're joining your father in the annual slave purchase?"

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, but I answered anyway. "Hmm." I drew in a quiet, slow breath. "I know you don't like the idea, even I don't but believe me, I'm nothing like my father."

Blaise didn't speak; instead, he brought out my body scent from the drawer and sprayed it over me, the fragrance embracing my skin like a veil.

"Look and smell good for a family practice."

"Blaise."

"Okay, okay, sorry," he uttered, holding his hands up in resignation.

.

.

As we arrived at the 'Red Den,' my wolf, Karl, stirred.

"Karl, what is it?" I asked but he didn't respond. I could feel how restless he was. I let out a low growl. Steadying my butt carefully on the intricate, red chair, my eyes wandered.

Something wasn't right, or is Karl against this journey like I was?

Inside, the spacious hall was decorated in dark, red curtains with large portraits of ancient drawings of naked women and men, hanging firmly against the wall. This den is said to be almost a hundred years old and its activities are an illegal but common practice amongst the strong people of different packs.

"Three...two...one... Sold!" The auctioneer screamed, and a young omega, red-haired, clad in a filthy robe, was sold. The conversation between Blaise and me surfaced in my head. My father, Alpha Rheagor, was known for not just being ruthless but also buying slaves annually, used for labor and, of course, pleasure.

He's called the 'pleasure monger, ' a name he takes pride in and I hate it that this year, I had to partake in his addiction. A recurring action he took a year after the death of my mother. Seated in this hall filled with greedy men, I couldn't help but feel unease.

Another werewolf omega was sold. Short, hair trimmed- almost bald, was bought by a young, chubby woman, probably an Alpha. As time passed, my stomach fluttered with nervousness.

Karl clawed at my inside the moment the next omega stepped in, an intoxicating scent hitting me. A mixture of cinnamon and vanilla wafted through like smoke, embedding into my nostrils like it was air. An alluring figure emerged from behind the curtain - white hair and striking eyes of the same colour, almost unusual, like a witch.

A low purr reverberated within me. I almost jumped from the seat.

"Are you okay?" My father turned to me briefly.

"Yes... yeah." My voice cracked.

"She was banished from her pack because she killed her mother. She has beautiful features but then, she's a witch." My father whispered, his head bent slightly toward my side. "I wonder who would spend a dime on a witch." He laughed.

"They're people who will, you never can tell," I answered truthfully and he nodded uninterested.

She was taken into a thick, metal cage where the others were being kept until they're bought.

Her eyes darted around the crowd, as if searching for her missing shoe.

It's even more intriguing as her snowy eyes took me in instantly. Those icy white orbs lingered on for an ample amount of time and Karl shifted again, more anxious than ever.

Did she feel it too? I mumbled inwardly. Her gaze shifted.

The man who had brought her in was different from the others. His eyes shone with bright mischievousness, head bent until they were inches from her ear. I watched as his lips moved up and down, and Karl flared, making my insides burn with feral rage.

"Damn it!"

"This, as you can see, is a rare breed. A virgin omega. Age 19. Very pleasing to the eyes and in bed," the Auctioneer said. "Oh, you don't believe me?" he added.

The brown robe she was wearing was pulled from her body, and oh, Moon goddess, my breath stuck in my throat.

Her body was pale with her pinkish nipples protruding instinctively from the cold air. Her hands moved almost instantly to cover them but the chains restricted the movement.

I could see the falling and rising of her chest, my feet tapping on the hard floor, holding myself from the last thread of patience before I rushed forward and dragged her from there.

"No one should see what's mine," Karl screamed. I almost gave in, my eyes narrowing into something dark, fighting with Karl as he tried to storm out until the auctioneer's voice snapped me out of the internal turmoil.

"The bidding starts at three hundred gold!..."

"Five hundred gold..."

"... One thousand gold."

"She looks weird but then, I love weird things. Two thousand gold." A pot-bellied man chuckled, and I imagined a hundred ways I would snap his head off his body.

Seeing that no one else spoke and the smug smile on the lips of the pot-bellied man made my jaw clench so tight it hurt, I broke the silent chaos. My voice echoed within the large hall.

"Six thousand gold."

The hall fell silent, and my father snapped his head to my side, his eyes wide as a saucer. Even his mouth didn't hold back. "Are you crazy?!"

"Do I hear six thousand gold?"

"I'm sorry, but I would have to make you break your records. This time, don't buy any slaves and let me do it." I smiled sheepishly.

"Last chance..."

"...Sold!"

"That's not it," he thundered, pointing his finger at the stage. "She's a witch and I swear to the moon goddess, I will kill her before the break of the day."

"Then you'll have to kill me first." The words left my lips before I could stop them but then... that was it.

"He would have to get past me before he harmed our mate." Karl spat.

My words were final.

I felt the gaze of the elites within the hall, their eyes undressing me, but worst, was my father's; dumbfounded, I would say.

I was ushered out quickly by one of the handlers who took me to a room. Red as the auction hall but warmer. Beside the spacious velvet sofa at the side of the room was a coal and short steel, burning in the intense furnace.

Shortly after, the door creaked open to reveal the witch Omega. Her eyes settled on me before moving to the other corner, landing on the hot coal.

I felt her breath stop.