Property of the Devil's Angels

Rosia's POV

Princesses Cassadra stands in an elegant posture at the center of her guest chambers as two of her servants style her hair with golden beads to match the color of her flowing gown whose long tail is being held by three other servants. Another, is on her knees in front of her, holding up a mirror, but the Princess is not looking, her attention is fully focused on the slave being branded with her names by her guards.

We are guests in the imperial palace of Avrion Empire, which is ruled by the most powerful of beings, the triplet Angel Kings, Aerion, Aeries, and Aerius.

They have set a three day momentous ceremony to cerebrate the beginning of their second reign. Of course they have to be chosen by the crown of Avrion. The only crown that has it's own mind to choose it's wearer and grant them its unraveled power, to rule over all races as the overlords. The gates of their imperial palace are opened to only those deemed most worthy of being in their presence, the kingdom’s wealthiest, most powerful Alpha, Beta, and Gamma families. They also sent out a word that they will be choosing their wife amongst the most revered daughters of strongest Werewolves during the same celebrations.

So most of the invitations were sent days in advance to the most beautiful werewolf women in the Empire.

On the first day of the feast, the guests will flaunts off their wealth by offering precious gifts, like human slaves and gold as tribute to their kings as token of their loyalty. I am one of the slaves, one of Princess's Cassandra's many gifts meant for the Angel Kings.

Human slaves will be preferred as they will be used for hunts, warrior battles and anything that can entertain guests the second day and the third day before the day of the crown's choosing.

Princesses Cassandra and her sisters, being the daughters of a famous alpha, received their invitation the day before yesterday.

They immediately sent guards to the slave dungeons to select the best of human slaves, that will persuade the Angel kings to choose one of them as their wife. I had hoped to evade the selection, but Cassandra had asked specifically for me.

Most don’t know she is one of my half-sisters. But of all my step-siblings, Cassandra hates me the most.

Our Alpha father had me with my werewolf mother. They were horrified when I was born human. The worst kind of birth for a powerful werewolf Alpha. Humans are weak, disposable, and foolish, only good enough to be slaves or, as the Angels and werewolf see us, commodity.

Everyone said I was a curse, a punishment from the gods upon my father's beautiful bloodline. Not even the best pack doctors, could explain why my pure werewolf mother gave birth to a human child.

My death was ordered at once, but my

mother begged my father to spare her only child. Out of love for her, Father agreed to spare me, but only if I was to remain hidden, locked away where not even servants could ever see me.

My step siblings, Lia, Cassandra, and Helen were the luckiest people I knew. Because on top of being our father's golden, perfect Lycan children, they were pampered and everything they wanted was given to them.

My life got even worse when my mother passed away.

Father immediately ordered I be thrown into the dungeons with others of my kind, to always serve his noble wives and their beloved daughters.

We arrived in this imperial palace yesterday evening, as part of the princesses entourage. We were locked in the palace's slave dungeons with the rest of the gifts that had been brought.

Today, every guest will be given a chance to present their tribute to the Angel Kings personally.The one's that bears the most impressive gifts will be granted the rare honor of sitting with the Angel Kings during the festivals. Cassadra craves that honour above all things, hence the reason why we are being branded with her names and those of the kings. So that they'll be impressed by her tribute.

The human slave screams in pain as the red hot branding iron comes into contact with the bare skin of his back.

Three other slaves have already underwent the same painful marking, and passed out on spot from the unbearable pain. Yet the princess seem to be enjoying their screams of agony.

I am next in the line and I am afraid I might pass out from fear even before they get to me. I would be lucky if they don't reheat the branding iron before using it on me.

"Leave that one first. I am more interested seeing my names on the flesh of that bastard daughter of a whore. It has gotten so fat by our sweat" The princess orders, pointing a finger at me.

My whole body quivers as the guards leave the other slave they were dragging forward and come for me.

"We should have started with it," sir Bowman, one of her best guards hisses as he takes hold of the chain around my neck and drags me forward. His partner returns the branding iron into the hot coal. gods must really hate me.

"Heat it red hot. I want it to melt her worthless behind," the princess orders in a furious tone.

"It looks much better without the dirty rags," one of the guards comments as they tear the already tattered dress off my back.

"The Angel kings will love it. It's pretty unlike the rest of it's kind." another says, sounding just as deviously ecstatic as the prestigious princess.

"Father should’ve killed it at birth. But who knew I could make use of something so awful." the arrogant Princess confesses in an amused tone.

Sir Bowman moves behind me, holding the glowing iron.

My jaws clench in anticipation of the inevitable pain, yet the sheer hotness of the iron chokes all air out of my chest. A wave of excruciating pain spreads across my back and an instinctive scream escapes my mouth. I bite down on my lower lip until I taste blood.

"Your names look good on its skin, my lady." The third guard chuckles as Sir Bowman steps back to admire his work.

The pain doesn't stop though. It comes in unbearable waves. Painful tears, the kind I haven’t cried in years, blurs my vision.

"Recite the words of the tribute engraved upon the back for me, I wish to savour how they sound," Princess Cassadra orders.

"It says, "A tribute to his Majesty king Aerion, Aeris, and Aerius. From your most royal servant, Princess Cassadra." The guard reads from my body.

The princess’s lips curl into a frown as she glances at Sir Bowman. “You did not put the words beautiful, stunning, or ethereal? I told you it should say: ‘From your most beautiful royal servant, the divine Princess Cassandra.' How are they supposed to know I'm the one they should marry if the gift doesn't say who I am?"

“I apologize, your Highness, but that was too long to fit on the branding iron. We had to shorten it.” Sir Bowman regretfully explains.

The princess huffs, clearly displeased. "Brand the rest. I must look perfect when I present my gifts. If the Kings are impressed by my looks and gifts, I will be the one sitting by their side tonight."

I'm dragged away to the corner and another slave is dragged forward. I have to stay on my knees even as I feel faint from the pain, because it's forbidden for a human slave to sit in presence of any werewolf royal.