The Kings Mate

All Rights Reserved ©


This story was originally moving to Galatea but I’ve asked it be to removed and considering the conduct of trying to get it removed I will also be removing it from here as it is the same company. It will be available on kindle at a soon to be announced date.

Fantasy / Romance
4.6 108 reviews
Age Rating:


This story is in edit and needs slight changes to some character personalites.

Rain smashes down against the dark bricks, that I can barley make out the colour to as I force my feet to move faster as they slam down with more impact than I would have guessed that I had. Dirty water splashes up, soaking into the worn and torn denim of my jeans as my aching bare feet come down in puddle after puddle. The tiny sliver of light proved by the quarter moon rising high up in the sky and antique gas lights provides next to no light in the darkened alley way that I had made my home for the night until heavy and numerous footsteps followed by deep growls move closer to my curled shivering body.

Long thick ropes of tangled light brown hair fall into my eyes as my head whips around at the crashing sound behind me. Small white puffs of warm air appear in front of me as my chest rises and falls rapidly, my lungs protesting as they try to capture a suitable amount of oxygen as I push my body to run faster still.

It is not the first time that I have had to push my body to escape whatever was impending behind me. Only once was I caught, but only long enough for the putrid male to cause a large hand shaped bruise to spread across my ribs in a sickly yellow colour that took more than a week and limited movements to heal.

My heart wasn’t pounding as hard in my chest then as it is now. Then, I could feel it as it speed up, a tight sensation spreading underneath my ribs as I could feel his laboured and grunted breathing just over my shoulder as he followed close behind me down the abounded street. Now, however, it is beating so hard I feel as if it is about to break out its way past my weakened skin, as the noise revibrates up and behind my ears.

Heat surges through my body the energy I’m using dwindling down to a miniscule fragment. I haven’t eaten a proper meal in years and it is finally catching up to me. My starved body is begging to slow down and the sounds trailing swiftly behind me as I attempt to make it a round the corner onto the main street.

Carllet home for girls in London was a place I could only just call home till I was fifteen. It wasn’t a place I could call home though. The girls weren’t the sweetest of girls and I doubt they neither noticed nor cared that the tiny bed that took up a majority of the white walled room was empty after I carefully crawled through the broken second story window that freezing night.

All that was slung over my back in the small dark canvas bag with the faded brown faux leather straps was three sets of clothing and two worn pairs of sneakers with holes already in the fabric. The only things I have left of it is a grey t-shirt, holes riddling the fabric just like the jeans that used to hug my legs tightly but now hang off my skin like a deflated airbag, they no longer sit at the bottom of the bag as a last resort, they are the only things left to cover my body. The only thing that doesn’t have holes in it is the slightly oversized black hoodie that I woke up with one morning draped over my sleeping body.

The sounds of those following behind me grow and I can hear as feet coming down in the puddles that have housed my own my feet despite the heavy rain that hammers down around me.

My foot catches in a wooden crate causing me to slide to the ground bracing my hands out in front of me to stop the hard impact. My hands scrape along the rough ground as I stop the fall. I let out a small scream of pain as I feel the skin of my palms rip open and my ankle, still caught in the crate twist in an unnatural way.

Deeper and louder growls grow closer to me and despite the shooting in my leg sending massive amounts of pain up and through my body as I put weight down onto the injured ligament. Blood trickles over my bony fingers that are covered by a delicate layer skin from the open cuts of my palm.

Pain continues to travel through my body at an alarming rate and I know that I won’t be able to carry my petite body weight for much longer. My feet are carrying me slower now as I finally get my body around the corner and onto the main street out of the darkened area of the alley I have to use the wall to steady myself.

Two sets of eyes, the only two on the long regularly crowed street, look my body up and down. The couple are walking close together. The males arm is locked tightly around the women’s waist, holding her to his side as her feet attempt to carry her across the road towards me.

The cement footpath feels as if it is beginning to give way underneath and my legs give way beneath me. The grip I had on the wall slips and I fall towards the pavement, my legs curling underneath my body as I shake lightly.

I’m going to die.

The growls enter the street now and I can hear a feminine voice screaming from across the street. Something hard connects to my stomach and I am pushed back hard into the wall the jagged brick digging into my skin and pushing against my bones.

Screaming as something grabs a hold of my sore ankle dragging me across the foot path and down onto the road. My head smashes against the gutter as I’m pulled down onto the dark and soaked asphalt. Groaning the impact from my head begins to turn the edges of my sight a darker colour.

The growls of whatever has me aren’t human. They sound more animalistic as if I am being attacked by a pack of some dogs in the middle of the street. One growl stands out from all the rest though and despite how deep it is, it sounds more human than the rest.

Flinching as warm hands come down onto my waist, I start to think that someone has come to save me. The voice close to me is deep and evens my breathing out slightly relaxing me, moments later I hear the voice yelling and I know that it isn’t directed to me but to the growl that are now begging to retreat.

The warm hands slide up my shirt and hoodie resting it just below the bottom of my bra. The calloused but strong fingers pepper lightly over my ribs and I let out a small cry, trying to get the pressure to stop. A hand grabs my wrist lightly holding it away as the hand continues to press lightly over the injured area.

The two people whisper back and forth together and I can hardly make out what they are saying. The pain of my ribs is bearable as warm sparks of what must be electricity shot through my body around the area.

“Stop.” My voice comes out cracked, “It hurts.”

I hear a sigh before both palms are laid down flat over my ribs rubbing light circles. More of the pleasant electric shocks are shot through me and I am relaxed long enough to handle the pain in the most pleasurable way as my sight goes black and I fall unconscious with a peaceful sigh.

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