"Did you, in the end, find out why your father locked you up?" Lyall asks.

I have my head on his chest while he looks up at the room's dark ceiling. Moments ago, I was trying to get away from his bed. Yet now I am lying on top of his body very comfortably.

Honestly, I blame my pregnancy hormones. My tears were definitely caused by them, too. Of course, the attraction and the comfortable feeling I have with Lyall are no doubt caused by heightened oxytocin.

"Yeah," I whisper. My fingers trace his chest without touching his skin. I am not exactly sure I want to feel the burn his skin will bring. "He told me just before he died."

"What's the reason?"

"He said he did it for my protection." I take a deep breath. "He always wanted a warrior because he had always been one, hence he prepared the name Mars, but my mother made it into Marsha to fit my gender before she died. My father was prepared to raise a warrior, but not prepared to raise a girl. He told me there were days he felt so paranoid because at any time, a male wolf, especially an alpha, could have taken me."

"That's why, on days he had to go lead a hunt or an expedition, he'd locked me in my room. He was afraid that if I was left to roam the house or the pack by myself, a male would snatch me away."

"Is that common in your pack?" Lyall brushes my dark hair gently. Our positions make it impossible for me to see past his chin. In the dark-lit room, I can see a few stubbles growing on his skin. There is a tattoo of a full moon on his chest, so I decide to just focus on that tattoo instead.

"It's common in every werewolf pack, I think. With the lack of female werewolves and all." I give up. The temptation to touch his skin is becoming unbearable. In the end, I long for the sparks only he can give me. The moment my fingers touch his chest, I feel him shudder. But as he keeps his body still, I dare myself to create slow, but gentle circles on his skin.

"I heard that in one pack, females as young as twelve, as long as they already have their period, will be taken to a 'breeding room' where males would take turns to impregnate them," I continue, "At least in my pack, females can't be taken without the consent of the head of the family. The males in my pack behave... better."

"But still not good enough," Lyall mutters, "If they have been good, you wouldn't need to run away from them."

"Well, at least I was lucky–"

"Not good enough," Lyall repeats the words with gritted teeth. His growl surfaces from his throat, but his gentleness, while he caresses my hair, does not subside. "I'm sorry I brought up those horrible memories. I wasn't thinking when I locked you up."

I push myself up and then I stare down at this man. My arms are on either side of his body as he retracts his arms from behind his head, assuming a very relaxed position. His body is so big compared to mine.

"Why did you do it?" I stare down at his emerald eyes. He looks at my face as if he is watching an amusing show.

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't tell me. But then he says, "The emotion you stirred on me was getting too much. I just knew that if I had stayed, I would have... not wanted to ever leave you." He clears his throat. "I have my duties as a king, too. And I am ashamed to say that, like your father, I thought I was protecting you. People know you are my mate and some people within these walls are looking for my loopholes."

I tilt my head to the side. Somehow, I sense he is not telling me the entire truth. My female intuition tells me that if he had stayed, he would have not been able to stop himself from telling me about his past. And that's not something he wants to do yet. At least, not to a stranger like me, even though we are mates and I am the only person who can make him feel.

In the end, despite the intimacy we have now, we are still strangers. If it wasn't for the mate bond, we wouldn't have felt this comfortable with each other so quickly, right?

But I bury those doubts within me.

"You don't trust people easily, do you?" I ask.

"Nope. Everyone has their own agenda. And I keep my enemies closer. Everyone is waiting for me to fall on my own. That's when they will strike."

His words put a dull knife in my chest. "Then what am I?" I ask. My voice has gotten hoarse without me knowing. "Am I your enemy? Is that why you're keeping me close?"

He only stares at me. Unblinkingly.

"No," I laugh weakly, "You've been keeping me close because you don't think I am harmless. I am just an ordinary werewolf girl who happens to be your mate. You locked me because you think I am weak. And having a weak mate makes you imperfect."

Lyall neither denies nor agrees with me. But his silence is enough of an answer for me. I rise on the bed but keep my eyes on him.

That dull pain in my chest turns into biting stings. It stings more painfully as the silence confirms my thoughts. I don't even know why it hurts. For twenty-five years, I have been treated like a second-class citizen, I always have to be on the lookout, and I have to tolerate being brushed off because I am a female. I was weak and couldn't fight back against the system. None of us could.

So, I should have been used to being considered weak, right? My father considered me weak, so he locked me up for days. Ed never locked me up, but he did prohibit me from going to certain places and he gave me a curfew.

I know they did all that with the intention of protecting me. But I thought I have run away from that lifestyle. So, why am I still being treated the same?

More importantly, why am I so angry about this?

All those years of repression and I did not raise a single word about it. But now? I realize that hiding my feelings never really erases them. They were just buried deep within me, waiting for something to trigger them, to open the latch that has been keeping them locked all those years.

"Stop it, Mars," Lyall suddenly says with a low tone. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I hurt you... or... or betray you," he cries out, sits up, and brushes his hair, "You're making me go crazy. What did I do wrong?"

He reaches out for me, but I push away his hands, then jump out of the bed. My eyes are getting hot.

"You men are all the same! You... Do you think we choose to be weak? You make us weak. You keep us weak by shutting down our voices and binding us to your patriarchal system and... and you limit our choices. You tell us it is selfish to have a dream, to have another kind of life outside of your designs for us. You men, guilt trip us into thinking that if we don't give birth, we are useless, that we are not proper women. Because you put it in our heads that our only purpose in this world is to be a breeding machine to battle the upcoming race extinction that is not our fault!"

And I thought Lyall was the only one with repressed emotion. I feel like a joke, as I have it hard to control this sudden burst of anger.

I pace around the room, trying to subdue this out-of-the-blue anger. But I can't.

My nose is clogged, and my eyes become blurry. I am panting hard, but I can't stop. These words have stayed too long inside me that now they are out... they want to keep going out.

"You think I wouldn't want to be a warrior?" I raise my voice, for the first time in twenty-five years. And I am raising them to the lycan king. "It is my dream to be a warrior! I dream about what it would be like to have the ability to stand on my own two feet, to be independent, and to be strong."

I am sobbing at this point. "I want to be strong, Lyall... I want to live and not just survive." My lips tremble and my eyes keep getting blurry that I don't realize Lyall has approached me. He grabs my arms tenderly and directs me to sit on the bed. His touch calms me down a bit.

"I am sorry." His face still appears clueless. He doesn't know what he is apologizing for. "I am not... those assholes."

He kneels in front of me, so I have to look down to meet his eyes. Then he wipes my tears with one hand.

"You sure did act like one," I mutter.

"I'm sorry," he says, looking me straight in the eye, "Sincerely. You are not a prisoner here. And... I guess I can ask my sister to teach you our lycan warrior ways."

My eyes widen at his proposal. I blink several times to make sure I am not dreaming. When reality sinks in, I gasp and cover my mouth. If other people see us, they would think Lyall just proposed to me when he is actually asking if I'd like to train as a warrior.

"Really?"

Lyall rubs his neck in awkwardness. "Well, I have to convince my sister first. So, umm... for the time being, it's better if you stay in my room until she says yes. That way, when I am not around, I can count on my sister to look over you until you have become formidable."

He grabs my arms again. "Mars, my kingdom can be dangerous for you. Not because you're a female or a werewolf, but because you are my mate. I don't want to make you feel like I am caging you, but until I consider you strong, I will have to do what I think is best to protect you."

"I'll take that chance," I answer quickly with determination, "I can be strong on my own." Even I, myself, am surprised by the fire lighting up in my eyes, which is reflected in Lyall's eyes.

Lyall stares at me for a few long seconds. Then he draws a smile on his face. "Keep doing this."

"What?"

"This," he says, "Be hopeful. It makes me hopeful." He then kisses me on the forehead, out of the blue.

When our eyes meet again, I can't help but ask, "Lyall, are you falling in love with me?"

"No." His answer is quick. Too quick.

My wolf whimpers sadly and I, too, feel a jab in my chest. And as if I haven't learned from my mistake, I bury that feeling deep inside.

–to be continued–

Copyright @karasmara 2021