Claimed
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Warning: Mature Content (18+), Dark Themes, Pet Play, Power Dynamics, Violence, and Intense Possession play.
The night air was thick with the stench of sweat and fear. Meka stumbled over roots and sharp stones, her bare feet bloodied from the rough terrain. Her breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps, her human form betraying her, muscles straining against the unnatural weight of the silver collar around her neck. She could feel it constricting her, suffocating her instincts, keeping the wolf buried deep within.
“No matter how far I run...” she whispered, tasting blood on her lips as she glanced back. Shadows moved in the moonlight—Skuds, their twisted forms loping through the underbrush, snarling and snapping at her heels.
A sob caught in her throat, but she swallowed it down, teeth clenched. Damnit. Why did I try to escape? Wasn’t I content being a pet—a slave—a mere toy? No. She shook her head, eyes wild and furious. They were monsters. The vampires used her kind as nothing but slaves, daytime guardians against the Skuds and humans. It was degrading.
But not him. Not Adonis. The prince wasn’t like that. He had been... different. Yet, she couldn’t risk it. If she stayed, she knew the king would eventually kill her. He didn’t trust Lycans, even the ones who proved useful. Better to die running than to be executed like a beast.But now... now she was surrounded. A Skud lunged, teeth gnashing, and she screamed as it barreled into her, sending them both to the ground. The foul beast snarled, jaws snapping dangerously close to her throat. Just as her vision blurred with fear, the beast disintegrated—torn apart by a whirlwind of fluttering darkness.
Bats. Thousands of them, swarming the area, devouring the Skud in moments. She looked up through strands of dirt-matted hair, and her heart sank. Adonis stood before her, the leathery edges of his coat fluttering in the sudden breeze, his chest bare, bronze skin gleaming under the fractured moonlight. His presence was a suffocating force, drowning out all other sensations.He was alone.
“What are you doing out here, little wolf?” Adonis asked, his voice calm, almost bored, but his eyes... they held disappointment.
Meka swallowed, her words tangled on her tongue. Her lip trembled as she tried to speak, but the look he gave her silenced the attempt. He crouched before her, his hand lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Have I not been good to you?” he asked, his tone sharper now, eyes narrowing.She couldn’t speak, couldn’t form the words to explain. Adonis didn’t shout—he didn’t need to. His presence alone made the world around him bend. Meka could feel it, that heavy, invisible force that compelled obedience. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
“Get up,” he commanded, voice flat, devoid of warmth. She obeyed, legs shaking as she pushed herself upright. He looked her over, noting the blood and bruises. His lips pressed into a thin line.
“Follow,” he said, his tone final, offering no room for argument. Meka didn’t dare defy him again.As they walked, his Majesty ability flared—an eldritch power born of age and dominance. The few vampires they passed knelt instinctively, their wills crushed beneath his presence. Only the oldest could resist, and even they gave respectful nods as he led Meka through the halls, his grip never leaving her wrist.
Inside his chambers, the firelight danced across the walls, but the space felt cold—colder than usual. Adonis released her, and she stumbled forward, catching herself against the edge of the stone bath.
“Sit,” he ordered, his tone not allowing argument. She obeyed, the ache in her limbs forgotten as fear coiled around her heart. He didn’t speak as he filled the basin with water, his movements methodical, precise.
When the bath was ready, he pulled her tattered dress from her shoulders, his fingers impersonal, almost clinical. She shivered, both from the cool air and the touch that felt so unloving. He didn’t look at her as he pushed her into the water, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out as the warm water stung her cuts.
He didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge her attempts to explain, just continued to wash the blood from her skin. His hands moved over her arms, scrubbing with a cloth, but there was no gentleness, no comfort. Just cold efficiency.
Her eyes flickered to his face, trying to read his expression, but his gaze remained focused on the task at hand. He tilted her head back, wetting her hair, his fingers weaving through the tangled strands with a practiced ease.
Meka couldn’t stop shivering. Adonis loomed behind her, silent as a shadow, his jaw set with restrained anger. He pushed her down onto the low wooden stool, and she kept her eyes on the floor, biting her lip to keep from trembling.
The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, steam curling from the basin of hot water he’d prepared. She could hear the soft splashing as he dipped the cloth, his movements precise and controlled, like every inch of his will was forcing himself to stay calm.
Without a word, he dragged the damp cloth across her shoulders, wiping away dirt and dried blood. His touch was firm, methodical—nothing like the way he usually handled her. Meka bit back a gasp when his knuckles brushed her collarbone, and it felt... different. Not Majesty, not power—something else, something that made her breath catch and her skin prickle with warmth.
She tried to focus on the rough texture of the stone under her feet, but his hands moved lower, over the tops of her arms, slow and thorough. She wanted to ask what he was doing, why his touch felt so different tonight, but she didn’t dare speak. His words earlier—about losing the privilege—stung more than any slap ever could.
He moved behind her, fingers brushing the nape of her neck, carefully wiping away the grime that had settled there. When he dragged the cloth along the curve of her throat, his knuckles just grazing the silver collar, she felt a pang of longing so fierce it nearly brought her to tears.Why did it feel like this? Every touch felt like it burned, leaving a trail of aching heat in its wake, but it was over so fast—too fast. She wanted it to last, wanted his hands to linger just a little longer, but he moved on, wiping down her spine, slow, deliberate strokes.When he pressed the cloth to her lower back, she tensed, but he didn’t stop—just kept washing her as if she weren’t trembling under his hands.
“Why?” she whispered, the word slipping out before she could catch it.He didn’t answer, didn’t even look at her. Instead, he pulled her upright, turning her around to face him. He dipped the cloth into the water again, wringing it out with a low, frustrated sound. Then, without a hint of tenderness, he pressed it against her chest, dragging it across the soft swell of her breasts.
Meka’s breath hitched, her cheeks flushing. She had never been touched like this before—not by him, not by anyone. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, but it wasn’t the roughness that made her shiver—it was the heat that pooled in her stomach, the ache that bloomed with every brush of his fingers.
His eyes flicked to her face, and she saw it—the flicker of something deeper, something dark and restless. But he blinked it away, pressing the cloth to the other breast, rubbing in slow, methodical circles. Her nipples tightened under the thin fabric, and she bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.
It shouldn’t feel like this. He wasn’t being sensual, wasn’t trying to seduce her—he was just angry, frustrated. But his hands... they lingered just enough to make her stomach twist. When he moved up to her neck, wiping around her ears, she flinched, her heart pounding.“Not... not my ears,” she whispered, eyes wide, unsure why it felt so different.He paused, just for a moment, and she saw his jaw tighten before he continued. His hands moved slowly, almost reverently, around the curve of her ear, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make her shiver.
She didn’t understand it—why this bath, this touch, felt so much more intimate than anything they’d done before. He wasn’t even looking at her, his gaze focused somewhere just beyond her, but she felt his disappointment like a physical weight.
When he finished, he tossed the cloth aside and stood up, towering over her.“Get up,” he commanded, voice low and hard.
She hesitated, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.“Now,” he snapped, the edge of his anger sharp enough to cut. She scrambled to her feet, bowing her head in submission.
“Bend over,” he said, his tone softer but no less commanding. She did, leaning forward, her hands braced on the edge of the tub.
She tensed, expecting the sharp crack of a punishment, but it didn’t come. Instead, she felt his hand hover over her, and he let out a long, weary sigh.
“So you’d rather this,” he muttered, voice strained, “than me treating you right?“The words sank into her like a stone, and she realized then—it wasn’t anger that drove him. It was hurt. He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t take pleasure in pain or humiliation. The disappointment in his voice hurt more than any punishment ever could.
Her heart clenched, and she turned her head just enough to see him. “I didn’t want to run from you,” she whispered, guilt choking her. “I just... I thought... I thought I’d get killed.“Adonis pulled her upright, forcing her to face him. His eyes were dark, but softer now, the tension in his jaw easing. He didn’t speak, just studied her face, as if searching for something.“I’m not mad,” he said finally, his voice rough with frustration. “I’m just... disappointed. You could have died. You should have trusted me to protect you.”
Her chest tightened, shame creeping in. She bowed her head again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice small.
He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t ever do that again. If you want to leave, you’ll ask me. I’ll let you see the world... but not alone. Not without me.“Meka nodded, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to speak, to explain, but the look on his face silenced her. He pulled her close, his lips brushing her forehead—just once—before stepping back.
“Rest,” he commanded, his tone softening. “You’re safe now.”
And for the first time in days, Meka believed him.Adonis slammed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, his hands gripping the dark wood so tightly his knuckles turned pale. The candlelight flickered across the room, casting jagged shadows across the stone walls. He forced his breathing to steady, but his chest burned with the weight of what he’d just done.Sabir’s words still rang in his ears.
“Trust us, Adonis. No one will know. We’ll handle the bodies. Just go to her. She needs you more than ever.”
He had to trust them—had to believe that Jade, ever cunning, could weave a story convincing enough to hide the truth. Five vampires dead. His own kind, slaughtered and buried because of one impulsive act.Because of her.
He couldn’t get Meka’s face out of his mind—the way she looked up at him, scared and ashamed, after he’d brought her back from the forest. She had no idea what she’d caused, the danger she’d put herself in. Or maybe she did, and that was why she ran.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, the rough stubble scraping his palm. The coldness of his own touch made him flinch. Killing a single vampire—justifiable under certain laws. Five? For a Lycan? Unheard of. If anyone found out, not even his father’s influence could save him.But when Sabir told him why she’d done it, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Elder Faust had ordered Meka’s brother killed—executed like a rabid dog for failing to turn. The poor wretch couldn’t handle the curse, stuck in a limbo between human and beast. When Meka heard, she lost control—bit the guard who delivered the news and then, in her grief, bit her brother too, hoping to force the change.
Instead, she created a fourth-generation Lycan—a half-turned creature not truly one of them, but marked nonetheless. Sabir and Jade kept it quiet, burying the guard and the fledgling vampire together. The other four, loyal to Faust, had to die as well. Loose tongues were dangerous.
And now, he was back, standing outside his own door, knowing that his choice to protect her could destroy him.With a steadying breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Meka was still where he’d left her, sitting on the edge of his bed, her head bowed, long hair hanging like a dark veil over her face. She didn’t move as he approached, didn’t even lift her head.
