Chapter 25

Aurora

I don’t sleep. Not even a minute. Every fiber of my existence is focused on staying awake, staying alive, and keeping myself backed into the corner of the closet where I’ve been thrown into and left alone since I arrived. It’s the heavy inclination I have that keeps me awake, watching the doorknob, waiting for Xander to barge in, beat me, humiliate me, and ultimately kill me.

At least he removed the blindfolds and handcuffs, replaced only now by a metal collar that squeezes my throat and sports a long, tough chain.

I at least want a fighting chance; I need to be awake and alert in case I have to fight. I won’t win, I accepted that long ago, but it would be better than dying in vain without a hint of struggle involved. I may be weak, famished, and ultimately dehydrated, but there isn’t a shred of doubt in my mind that I will at least go out laying a hit or two onto the second prince, to at least prove I am not an easy kill.

Jaxson will be devastated. I can’t let him live in pain. I haven’t always been receptive to him, or his pack for obvious circumstances, but I regret not giving him a chance now. I should have been more open about my feelings, my wants, and given him the same reciprocity I would have given Luke if we wound up in this situation, fighting over a mating pull, loving the same wolf and needing to protect their heart.

My head falls, overwhelmed in thought, and I have to squeeze my legs with my weak fingers, digging my nails into my skin, trying to force myself to stay conscious. I can’t give up. I can’t die like this: as a worthless commoner who doesn’t fight back.

I hear steps, watching the shadow under the crease of the doorway shift, ready to grab the doorknob. I force myself to stand, pushing back against the wall as some sort of leverage. It won’t help, I doubt myself too much and I’m far beyond being emaciated, but my heart races to give me the courage.

The door swings open. I don’t hesitate.

I scratch outward, catching a slice of his cheek, Xander’s face bright red in anger as I clawed a mark across his lightly freckled cheek. He reaches for the scratch, to examine the blood that dribbles down with minimal interest, more so surprised.

I take it as a moment to pounce, to run, and I slip beside him for a moment, caught only by the chain that laces my throat, making me feel like a dirty dog waiting to be punished for running.

He yanks me back with all his strength and I choke, gagging for air as my back hits the floor and yet again I lay naked under the height of his terror. He doesn’t grin, wiping the blood off his cheek and jaw without a word. His eyes are bright in color and deep with bloodshot trails, and I see a weakness in him for once.

He is exhausted, same as me, but he smells of freshly baked bread and some kind of juicy meat. It makes me cramp all over. I cling to my abdomen out of habit, watching his eyes follow my movements. He’s a predator, bloodthirsty and manipulative with every hesitating, dangerous moment passing by us. He could easily kill me, in this form or the other, and everything I’ve ever known would be taken from me in a single swipe.

Instead, he holds the chain, pulling it once with a quick jerk, and I stand at his insinuation. He drags me across the cabin, my feet tired and sore but I try to keep his brisk pace otherwise he will drag me by my neck. The cabin seems empty until we enter the main seating area, a few old warriors of the royal pack now lounging around with half-interested looks on their faces, munching down on the food that sits strewn all over the place.

Xander kicks my leg forcing me to my knees in a heavy fall. I grit my teeth to keep from screaming, instead curling into a tight ball with my back against a wall. I try to cover my chest, to preserve what little innocents I have left, but no one watches me. I’m thankful for that.

Xander sits nearby on a chair, kicking up his leather boots and toying with the chain he holds in his hand lazily. He eyes the plate nearby on the table, taking a sandwich and shoving it into his throat, eyes stuck on me the whole time.

I watch back, a challenge, wishing I could hide my envy but knowing I’m failing at it.

“We need to hurry up with this transaction,” one of the warrior’s growls, his charcoal eyes ringed with exhaustion, same as Xander’s.

I can tell everyone has taken their toll in this dingy cabin. It rattles in the cold wind, some of the frozen temperatures seeping through the wood logs for walls and makes me shudder. We are all in the same exhausted state.

“In good time,” Xander growls.

The room straightens up at his voice. It’s deeper than before, rougher, and for a moment I swear he sounds more like a rogue than the polished second prince.

“I want to make the terms clear, so he doesn’t try something stupid,” he adds, tugging my chain. I yank it backwards, tired of his toying with my throat, and he only chuckles at my ferocity. “She’s getting restless, too.”

He pulls the chain hard, making me fall onto the floor, sprawled out, before he releases the tension of the leash and lets me collect myself. It was a sign, a reminder that he is still in control, even if I try to fight him.

I’m not very good at it, obviously. I regret not paying more attention to Luke when he would try to practice play-fighting with me sometimes. I always assumed it was to show off how good he was a warrior. Now I realize it shouldn’t matter. I would have at least learned something decent.

“Kill the damn thing,” one of them grumbles, not bothering to look at me. “He would still think she is alive, and we can use it as leverage to get the pack without having to deal with her damn crying all day and night.”

Xander tips his head back, as if mulling over the idea. “It’s tempting, but I want to make sure we have the palace at least in our control first. Plus, I want to watch his reaction when I rape her in front of him. It will weaken him enough to let me strike.”

“Not strong enough to do it any other way,” I mumble, ignoring his threat to do unspeakable things to my body. I’ve grown use to his threats by now.

His lips purse into a tight, domineering line.

He grabs a second sandwich, biting into it obnoxiously while I watch. My stomach cramps and I try to hide the ache, curling into a pathetic little ball. I focus on the scratches I made on his cheek, the only thing that gives me a spec of joy.

“How do you want to write the note?” someone asks.

Xander ponders briefly, finishing every bite of his sandwich except a small little ball of bread, plain, that he flicks toward me on the floor. He sits up, staring down at me, my heart racing while I know he wants me to debase myself and take the crumb. I wouldn’t do it if I weren’t so desperately hungry. I take the bite, my mouth numbing while I wish I had more of a bite to eat than that pathetic scrap.

He cracks an amused grin. I let my head fall in shame.

His hand reaches for me, tossing my hair off my neck, and I know he sees the mating mark his brother made on my skin. He snarls a noise, flicking it. I haven’t been able to link with Jaxson since I got here. They’ve given me some kind of potion a few times, the closest thing to a drink I’ve had, but it burns my throat and makes me gag. Since then, the only thing I have to remember Jaxson by is the mark on my throat.

“I’ll write the note,” Xander hums, his voice lighter now. “But I have an idea.”

I don’t have time to duck before his hand flickers across the space between us. His fingers are curled tight into a ball, and they all collide with the side of my face. My bones shift, the pain so brute that he has to hold the chain tighter around my neck to keep me sitting up. I bark a cry as tears stroll down my cheek with a parallel stream of blood that dribbles over my lips.

He wipes his fingertips over the blood and pulls back to examine the sight. “I think this should get his attention.” I pull away from him, trying to wipe it all off but he only laughs. “Looks like I’ll have to make more blood if you insist on doing that, damn mutt.”

Someone wields a knife that shoots out of the handle, the sound making me jump.

Xander takes the blade and my whole-body trembles at the sight of the sharp edge. He wouldn’t kill me, he said it himself, but seeing his eyes light up with the weapon makes me feel like he’s enjoying the fear that puddles in my tears.

“Maybe I give him this, too,” he says, holding up my necklace, the chain broken.

It’s the same necklace Jaxson gave me as my first of many gifts in the palace. The opal stone is smeared in my blood, the silver chain snapped in several places, making it look shorter than it had been when I was wearing it.

“How did you—” I start, seeing him move the blade at my words.

I had shifted when I wore that necklace. I can only imagine it broke off in my doing so, but as I think back to the moment I ran away from my mate and my best friend, I don’t actually remember it falling to the ground like my clothes had.

“Stuck in your hair,” he says, shrugging. “I know there is no way you were able to afford this jewel, common filth. It has to be from my brother. Seeing your sad little expression only solidifies it. He will be furious when he gets this back with my note of demands written out in the ink of your blood.”

I jerk backwards, horrified.

“If you sit still, maybe I’ll let you have something to eat,” Xander says in his slithering voice. He centers himself in front of me, holding the blade out and taking my hand in his grip. He looks at me, then my hand, pressing the blade across my palm as a threat.

I close my eyes and think of something that brings me peace.

I realize that all I can see is Jaxson’s face.