Filed to story: The Alpha Kings Hated Slave
“Then why have this gift!? It’s useless to Remeta! It hurts Remeta!” she lashed out.
“But you know it’s not usewess. You know.”
“It only comes to you when it’s too late-the missing words. The meaning,” she added.
“Yes,” Corna seconded.
She raised her head, wiping her tears. “It only came to Remeta this morning. Beware of the three W’s. Beware of the three witnesses.”
“Your mother, the king, and his mistress,” Corna finished.
Inside the inner bedroom of the king’s chambers, a large figure was seated on the floor of the library, his head supported by the shelf behind him. The king did not know how long he sat there; it might have been since he dismissed Vetta in the morning. His back ached. His butt ached too. It was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. If he didn’t know better, he would say he developed a chest problem. He knew better, but the knowledge did not help.
The headache pounding the back of his head was too severe. He drank from the bottle of whiskey in his hand and lowered his head. The bottle was empty, and he dropped it beside the seven empty other bottles and picked up a new bottle. He was tipsy, but he wasn’t drunk. He never gets drunk, and he hasn’t drank in years. Not since his sixteen birthday when he got drunk and couldn’t protect Melia. She skinned her knee while playing and cried her heart out. The sound of her pained cries stayed with him for months, and since then, he had never tasted whiskey again.
Uncorking the bottle, he raised it high and drank half of it. He thought the drink would lessen the pain. Would make him forget.
He had never been more wrong in his life. No, he had been. His judgment of Danika had been wrong. He should have known. She was too good to be true. He should have knownit was all pretense. She carried another man’s child inside her. That child nestled secretly inside her, all the while she shared his bed.
The headache beat at his head. He dropped the bottle aside and got up. He walked out of the inner room to his wardrobe and pulled off his clothes, his head swimming. Through his slightly blurred vision, he was able to make out his nightclothes which he extracted and threw on. Then he turned and strode out of his bedroom. The silence of the night was soothing but not helpful.
He arrived at his destination and knocked once on the door.
Vetta’s eyes sprang open at the sound of the knock.
It had been her victory day that day but also a bad one for her. The way the king scolded her out of his bedroom and the insistent pain in her belly. Blood mixed with her urine when she used the bathroom this evening. She’d made a mental note to go back to Monah whenever she was able to.
Didn’t matter, though. Her plan worked! It had been her best day! She giggled when she remembered Danika’s face after the king collar-shocked her.
Sooooo sweet to see.
The knock. She rushed out of bed and pulled the door open. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the king standing behind the door.
“My king!” she gasped, opening the door wider.
He entered, the smell of whiskey strong. Whiskey? She frowned in confusion. The king never drank. Ever. But then, it was obvious he had been drinking. He didn’t look drunk, though.
“Take off your clothes and get to the table.” The command was hard. His eyes were so cold; she had never seen him look like that.
Vetta’s hands shook slightly, even as a sizzle of excitement raced through her. This is the man she has always wanted-the man she had before. The man Danika almost chased away to be replaced by a stranger who loves her.
She was glad her Lucien was back.
Locking the door, Vetta pulled off her clothes and gave him her back. He took the lube from the table and prepped her with few jerky movements. A surprised, strangled scream tore from her throat when he shoved into her from behind, burying himself to the hilt. Then he began fucking her. He took her body ruthlessly, shoving in and out of her so roughly she couldn’t control the pained cries that emerged from her lips.
“Ow!” she cried when he bumped her cervix repeatedly, bottoming out inside her. With her eyes closed tight, she gripped the table for support as he thrust over and over again.
His thrusts were measured for pain and not for pleasure. It was punishing. Brutal.
He grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her back to meet the thrust of his hips repeatedly. Her scalp began burning with each yank. His hand slapped her ass repeatedly, and at the same time, he reached for her breast pinching her so hard she saw red.
“Oh!” She gritted her teeth at the excruciating sensations he bombarded her with. It was much more pain than pleasure. He was using her body as a hole for him to get off. For some reason, it sprang tears to her eyes. I had always been like that before, but never like this either. She wanted this-but never like this.
“You’re h-hurting me. Lucien!” Her hands shot out behind her to his waist to try and steady him, but he flinched under her touch. He practically recoiled from it.
His hand left her breast and captured both her hands, holding them together at her lower back as he continued pounding her to the table. Her pelvis banged against the table with each thrust, hurting her immensely. His groans emitted repeatedly from behind her. It vibrated from his chest as he savaged her brutally. Jerkily, he pulled out from her. Using his free hand, he spread her ass cheeks with his fingers and shoved into her ass without prepping her.
Vetta lowered her head to the table and screamed; her body shook under the brutality.
Several minutes later, she lay curled up on the floor, her eyes following his movement as he tugged himself in and turned towards the door. She watched him leave without a backward glance, her body feeling like one big wound. The pain in her belly worsened.
This is not the man that pulled his people out of slavery. This is not the man that made her his mistress; no, that one cared about her in his own way.
This is not her King Lucien. It was worse.
This question prickled the back of her mind. Who is this man that smelled of whiskey and used her body so ruthlessly?
Who is this man?…
Sally heard about the ordeals in the palace and Danika’s pending execution from Uyah, who ran to her house on the morning of the next day to inform her. She had been devastated hearing it; she’d cried all the way to the palace, but there was no way to see the king because he refused to see any visitor-even Chad.
So Sally had gone to her princess’s dungeon. At the sight of her, Danika had teared up instantly-not to mention Sally. They’d cried together, clinging to each other through the bars that separated the cell from the outside. Danika told her everything that happened, and Sally couldn’t stop crying when she saw how complicated the situation was. How would her princess get saved from this?
She’d stayed with Danika all day, reading to her and telling her stories of her married life just to take her mind away from her situation. And when Sally went home in the evening to her husband, she begged him to find a way to speak with the king.
Chad had tried and tried for a couple of days, but the king wouldn’t allow visitors. Only his mistress was in and out of his chambers from time to time. She always came out looking like she fought a battle and lost. She comes out limping. The extent of his pain must be unimaginable for him to hurt the people he once cared for-like Vetta-and cut off contact with every single person he cared for-even Baski.
He never summoned Baski once-not even to make him herbs for a headache or for sleep. And when she’d tried to visit, the king refused to let her in. So she’d buried her effort into doing her best to come up with a way to exonerate Danika-to make a strong case she’d take to the king.
The rumors of his horrible moods and his strange deeds circulated the kingdom.
He had fired a maid for forgetting to get him drinking water with his food, and when the girl tried to plead to him, he’d thrown her out.
A woman was caught and whipped for committing adultery.
In court, there was a case about a man who stole in the market. The king hadn’t given an opportunity for the man to defend himself or give reasons why he did what he did, as the king would do before. Instead, he ordered the guards to amputate the man’s hand as an example to others never to steal again.
Baski sighed, shaking her head at the memories. It scared her the way things were looking for the king. That the incident would have succeeded in breaking him when King Cone was never able to succeed. When slavery punishments and tortures never succeeded in breaking him.
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?