Chapter 5

ELARA

The weight of his body lifted off me with a groan of satisfaction. "Gosh, you are so stiff," he muttered, scorn dripping from his words.


I trembled, consumed by despair. The coarse shackles binding my wrists cut into my flesh, fraying as I strained against them. My waist throbbed from the brutal force of his grip, his calloused hands lingering like a trademark. 


And between my legs, a searing ache pulsed raggedly, the evidence of his violation, a reminder of my defilement. The air mingled with the musky reek of our exertions - the stench of shame clinging to my skin. 


I felt disgusting, violated to my core. Yet this monster could only remark about my stiffness after ravaging me so completely. His words pierced me deeply. I bit my lower lip, fighting back tears burning behind my eyes.




I shuddered as his hand touched mine, the calloused skin rough against my own. His grip released me from the shackles, but the lingering scent of sweat and musk clung to me like a vile perfume. I shut my eyes, unwilling to behold the monster before me, the one who had shattered my spirit.




Sensing my state of mind, he remained silent, hurrying through the process until I was free—at least from the dominant shackles. The cold metal fell away, but the weight of his presence remained, suffocating me.


He walked to the door, still naked, his bare skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration. Opening it, he spoke to someone outside, his words muffled as I struggled to cover myself with the coarse black duvet. The fabric scratched against my skin, a harsh reminder of my vulnerability. My body quivered in horror.


As he returned, the door opened wider, and Amara stepped in. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of me. The sour stench of fear wafted from her pores as she rushed to my side, her hands trembling with a comforting warmth as they reached out to me.




"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. She gently helped me sit up, her touch both comforting and hesitant, as if afraid to cause further harm.




"Take her back to her quarters and ensure she is prepared and brought downstairs by ten o'clock in the morning," the monster snarled, striding to the bathroom. The musky scent of his sweat lingered in the air, a pungent reminder of his brutality. He made no move to cover himself in front of the girl. Truly shameless.




Amara bowed her head and turned to me. "I'm fine," I mouthed, hurrying out of the room. The longer I stayed, the more I wanted to unleash my Wolf and tear that bastard to shreds, to feel his flesh yield beneath my claws.




"Wait." Amara raced after me, her footsteps echoing in the hallway. But I was too filled with hate to stop, the weight of it pressing down on me like a physical burden. Tears streamed down my face, and I refused to let them see my weakness, the salt stinging my raw cheeks.




I stumbled as the chain on my leg tangled around the other, the cold metal biting into my skin, tipping me forward. I shot my hands out to catch my fall, the rough stone floor scraping my palms. Thankfully, Amara was there to meet me halfway, her arms enveloping me in a warm embrace.




"D-Don't touch me." I convulsed with rage, eyes closed as tears pushed through. The salty tracks burned my face like acid. "Pl-please, don't touch me."




"I'm sorry." Amara held onto me, her grip firm yet gentle. The scent of lavender wafted from her skin, a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "Please, let me help you."




"You are all the same," I sneered, pushing away from her. The coarse fabric of her dress scratched against my bare skin as I struggled to find my balance, the tangled chains weighing me down like anchors. We both sat there, me hunched and crying, the tears leaving damp trails on my cheeks, she staring with bleary eyes, unsure of what to do.




"I know you hate me, and I deserve it." She scooted closer, placing her hand on my lap, her touch featherlight. "This is my pack, and my Alpha brought this woe upon you, but I need you to let me help you."




"He touched me." I sniffed, the salty scent of my tears filling my nostrils. Opening my watery eyes to peer at her, I saw the concern etched on her face. "He touched me in the worst ways possible." She nodded sympathetically, not saying a word, her silence a comforting blanket.




Amara managed to assist me off the ground and into the room, straight to the bathtub. She ran a hot shower, the steam filling the air with the sweet, floral scent of Himalayan pink salt and lavender oil.

Sinking into the water, I felt the tension begin to ease from my muscles, the warmth enveloping me like a gentle caress. She asked me to stay there for a while so the oil could seep into my pores and heal me. I obeyed, defeated. After what happened, I needed even an iota of comfort, and I was grateful for her kindness.


The next morning, I was roused from bed by Amara to prepare me as their Alpha ordered. After I showered and came out of the bathroom, another Omega, her face etched with pity and fear, was bearing a tray of food which she deposited on the bedside table and disappeared quickly.

The aroma of oat porridge and berries wafted through the air, but my stomach churned, unable to appreciate the tantalizing scent. Amara materialized from the closet with a black dress which she neatly placed on the bed.




I ignored the dress and stumbled to the vanity mirror. The reflection that greeted me was a ghost of my former self. My red hair hung limp and tangled, the strands coarse and brittle to the touch. My sharp hazel eyes were sunken and hollow from endless tears, the delicate skin beneath puffy and raw. My once round neck now looked gaunt, a testament to my suffering and starvation, the bones protruding like knives beneath my pale flesh.




As my eyes trailed through my bare body, I shuddered as the events of last night replayed in my head. The ghostly sensation of his calloused hands roaming over my skin made me uneasy. My knees knocked together in shame and my arm wrapped tightly around my chest, the weight of my heavy breasts a burden I longed to cast off.


I hated that monster so much, not just because he touched me the way he did without my consent, but because of how my body reacted to it, betraying me in the most unpleasant way.


"Mistress."




I jolted and twisted around, coming in contact with concerned Amara. The scent of lavender still clung to her.




"H-Hey." I bit my lower lip, afraid she could read my lascivious thoughts.




"Did you hear what I said?" She asked, pointing at the lonely tray of food.




My eyes followed the direction of her finger and nodded, playing along. "Yes, I will eat now." But the thought of food made my stomach roil, the memory of his musky scent still fresh in my mind.




"Don't you want to apply the salve to your body first before you are dried?"




"I don't care about my body right now, Amara," I replied, grabbing the tray of food which I sat to devour. It tasted like ash on my tongue, but I forced it down.




Once I was done, I picked up the dress and wore it. I shuddered at the unwanted thought, wondering why the beast needed me there in the first place.




Amara clarified, her voice hushed, "Today is the burial of the elder Callum, the eldest and most respected warrior in the Rebellion. The Alpha requires you to attend in a show of respect."




I dropped my gaze to her, still confused. "Why? It's not like I'm a member of your Pack."


She shrugged softly, came closer, and helped me zip the dress. The warmth of her fingers brushed against the nape of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. We peered at each other through the mirror. "You have to be patient, Mistress." She massaged my shoulders with a kind smile on her face, her touch a soothing balm. "If you are going to survive this, listen to me and obey him. The Alpha likes nothing more than respect and submission. If you do that, you shall win his heart, snatch your freedom, and return to rebuild your home."


I continued to look at her, searching her face for any sign of deception. Why would she say that? She was supposed to be my enemy. Was this a trap? Yes, since finding myself in this situation, that had been my plan, but hearing her encourage me made me highly suspicious of her motive.




I never replied throughout the preparation, merely giving her cynical glances from time to time. I was the kind of person that tried to see the motive in people's behavior. My father's words echoed in my mind, 'Enemies are only on their best behavior when they're up to something fishy.'




"Let's go." She finished pinning my hair up in a simple chignon style, and I stood from the chair to follow her. The only thing I liked about this stupid charade of dress-up was the no-frills weightless black sandals—in case I saw a window of escape.




As the door opened, two guards stood there, with silver chains. The metallic scent of iron assaulted my nostrils, a harsh reminder of my captivity.




"Back off," one of them snarled at Amara, who bared her fangs at him. The guard reacted with lightning speed, his hand cracking across Amara's face with a sickening thud. She yelped, the sound raw and primal, and crumpled to the floor, clutching her jaw. The coppery stench of blood filled the air as her lip split open.

Rage surged through me, momentarily eclipsing the fear. I gasped and made to help her, but in a second I was yanked forth, the chains biting into the tender flesh of my wrists and ankles.




Escape plan ruined.




I gave Amara an apologetic glance as they pulled me away, wishing I could rip these bastards to pieces for hurting her, to feel their bones crack beneath my grip. I might not trust her, but so far she has been the only kind person to me in this hellhole.




We walked down the hall, the scent of damp stone and mildew assaulting my senses, and climbed down two flights of staircases into a big foyer where two other guards were stationed at two opposite doors. I was pulled to the door on the right-hand side, the iron grip on my arm bruising my skin.




The moment the door threw open, I was confronted with a table full of people. So many people I could hardly place a face, their pheromones potent in the air. The dining chamber.


"Bring her here," a man grunted from ahead of me, and when my eyes followed, it landed on the wicked beast. He looked entirely different, impeccably dressed in a fancy black suit. His stubble was clean-shaven, making his squared jaws more prominent, and his black hair was trimmed lower. A musky, earthy scent wafted from him, the scent of power and dominance.


My heart missed a beat, my pulse thundering in my ears.




"She looked at you, brother!" A sleek female voice howled, and soon the room broke out in protest of my obnoxious behavior and sampling of what punishment I deserved.

The cacophony of voices assaulted my senses, each scent more pungent than the last.




"Enough!" Mr. Beast growled, throwing the room into silence as I was unceremoniously thrown at his feet. His scent enveloped me, a heady mix of musk and earth that made my head spin—reminding me of last night. "I am the Alpha, and I am the only one who knows what punishment anyone deserves. Today is a day we all pay respect to the great and fearsome warrior, Callum, and I expect nothing short of civil conduct from all of you!" He stood and banged his fist on the table, which vibrated from the weight of his wrath. Not a single sound was heard. Not even a pin. The air was thick with tension, the scent of fear and submission hanging heavy in the room.




I organized myself and began to stand from the floor where I had landed when his stupid guard pushed me, but his next words stunned me, freezing me in place.


"Don't you dare, hellcat, you finally found your place." His voice was a low rumble, the vibrations resonating deep within my core. I could taste the power in his words, bitter and intoxicating.


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