Lysaria
I stared at the ceiling, tracing the familiar knots in the wood as if they were a map to somewhere else. I did my best to ignore the rest—the painful grip of his hands on my hips, the sour scent of whiskey on his hot breath as it ghosted across my neck. He grunted and pinched my nipple, a sharp, deliberate twist that tore a gasp from my throat. He laughed, a low, guttural sound of satisfaction. He enjoyed my pain. I turned my head away, squeezing my eyes shut as he finished. His final grunt of satisfaction was a knife twisting in my soul.
He rolled off me, the mattress groaning in protest. He stretched, a lazy, contented smile on his face. I didn’t move; I knew better. I waited for dismissal. Finally, he stood, swatting me hard on the thigh as he rose.
“Get up,” he grunted. “Go and fetch my breakfast, pet.” I didn’t argue. I slid from the bed, the sting of his hand a fresh fire on my skin. I pulled on the ragged t-shirt and my torn jeans, my movements practiced and hollow, before slinking out of his room. I kept my head down on the way to the kitchens. No one tried to stop me. No one even looked at me. I was used to it. I was a ghost, a shadow, a non-entity in my own life.
In the kitchen, I moved through the chaos of she-wolves preparing breakfast for the pack. Their laughter and jokes were a foreign language, a picture of domesticity from a world I didn’t belong to. I hugged the periphery, piling food onto a plate for Marcus. I ignored them just as thoroughly as they ignored me. We belonged to different worlds. They had wolves within them; I didn’t. I was a defect, a dud, a freak, and Marcus never let me forget it. He constantly reminded me how lucky I was that he’d taken me in, how I could have been left to die in the forest, wolfless and alone. Sometimes, I wished he had. Death would have been easier.
I carried the full plate back to Marcus’s room, setting it on the table before him. Then I retreated to my corner, pulling my knees to my chest and waiting for my next command. He ignored me, tearing into the food with a greed that churned my stomach. It was the same boundless gluttony he showed with everything, including my body, viewing it as nothing more than a toy for his gratification.
He tore into a crust of bread with his teeth, chewing loudly, then tossed the heel over his shoulder. I didn’t hesitate. I darted from my corner, snatching it off the floor. I retreated, shoving the bread into my mouth, almost choking in my haste, but I didn’t stop. He laughed, but I ignored him, forcing the dry, crusty bits down my throat.
After breakfast, Marcus left for the arena. He liked to spend his days ‘training’ his wolves. The moment he was gone, I rushed to the table, blindly devouring any scraps he’d left behind. I gathered the dishes and carried them to the kitchen, depositing them in the large sink without a word. I left the main building, my eyes downcast. It wasn’t a good idea to be seen. Being seen led to pain, humiliation, and punishment—all things I wished to avoid but never seemed to escape. It was my lot in life. I deserved no less. I was worthless without a wolf.
My mind shied away from the open wound that was the emptiness where my wolf should have been. It was a constant ache, deeper than the gnawing hunger, worse than the pain of Marcus’s cruelty, more violating than his relentless use of my body. I would have given anything to be like everyone else, to just have a wolf. I used to wonder what she would have been like. Fierce? Loyal? Agile? But I had long ago had such fantasies beaten out of me. I would never have a wolf. I would never be normal.
The day passed in a blur of chores. The tasks no one else wanted: cleaning the toilets, hauling the trash, washing the mountains of laundry. I didn’t complain. Pointless, and it would only earn me a beating.
When dinner came, I was exhausted, my body a dull throb of pain. There was no rest. I quickly washed in the river, shivering in the icy water. I wasn’t allowed the shower in Marcus’s house. Serving him dinner while smelling of my labors was a mistake I’d made only once; the thin scar on my arm was his permanent reminder.
I hurried into the kitchen, carefully choosing the best portions for his plate. I carried it out to him, kneeling at his feet as I set it down. He ignored me, and I let out a small, silent breath of relief. I stayed where I was, my head bowed, my eyes fixed on the floorboards. Around me, the pack’s conversation ebbed and flowed, but I was a stone in the river, separate and alone.
“Get me more ale,” Marcus said, cuffing me on the back of the head. I didn’t cry out. I was used to his rough hands. I just got up, carefully filled his cup, and returned to my place at his feet.
“You’ve certainly trained the welp well,” another man said, his mouth full of venison. “I was concerned when you first took her in—who knows what sort of curse a wolfless one brings. But you’ve turned her into something useful.”
“She just needed a firm hand,” Marcus replied, smiling. “The trick is to make sure they know their place and never let them forget who’s in charge. Isn’t that right, pet?” He reached down and stroked my hair, the way one would a dog. I didn’t respond. My participation wasn’t required, only my submission.
A commotion at the far end of the dining hall drew my eye. Through the dark curtain of my hair, I watched a group of unfamiliar wolves enter. They were different. Every bit as dangerous, predators through and through, but their stance was relaxed, confident. They surveyed the room not with aggression, but with the calm assurance of power. The leader was large, with dark hair that stood out around his head like a mane and eyes the color of a stormy sky. They swept over the room like a king surveying his domain.
My heart stuttered. A jolt, like an electrical shock, ran through me. He turned his head, and I hunched in on myself, trying to disappear. Marcus didn’t notice. He never did, unless he wanted something. He stood, gesturing for the newcomers to join him.
“Zayne, please, join us,” he said, his voice a jovial rumble. “We can discuss the terms of our agreement in detail.” I couldn’t breathe. My body froze with a tension I didn’t understand as he approached. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the dizziness that darkened the edges of my vision. Then he spoke, and I shuddered as his voice washed over me, deep and resonant.
“Of course. I would like to have this matter settled and return home as soon as possible.” I knew I shouldn’t. I knew the danger. But I couldn’t resist. I looked up.
My eyes met his.
And the world stopped. Something deep inside me, something I thought long dead, shifted. In that single, terrifying moment, I knew my world would never be the same again.
