Copyright © 2022 by Faith Hunte

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This is one of the books in the series, Amidst the Grips of Lycans, and can be read as a standalone.

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"You know what to do, Leora." A whispered, strained voice pierced the silence, and I heard the rustling of clothes and the shifting of booted feet against the floor as the male lycan before me pressed forward from where he sat, dark eyes glowing with blunt anticipation. "Beg for it, slave."

I exhaled slowly, hearing the trembling of it echo in this small room, and I kept my gaze locked upon the Alpha, Rothman, before me.

My heart was pounding rapidly in my chest as I watched him, the dryness in my throat making it difficult for me to speak.

"Please, sir." Finally the words arose, and I could hear the desperation in my voice, threaded with my wariness.

My knees ached as I rested upon them, and pain clawed at my stomach, worsening as I inhaled, scenting spices and meat nearby.

The Alpha's head tipped back, his eyes closing as pure satisfaction made its way across his harsh features. "Again." His voice was no longer a strained whisper, but a growl, one that made me swallow tightly.

"Please, sir." Two words, quietly spoken, fell from my lips once more, and I watched the way Rothman's large body shuddered as his eyes opened slowly and locked with mine again.

And immediately, I repeated those words, begging him, my voice cracking as I performed the routine which I knew would give me my meal.

"Stand." Rothman finally commanded, and I did as told, standing, ignoring the blanket of darkness and flashing light that filled my gaze briefly as I stood too quickly.

Unease swarmed my mind as I continued to watch the male lycan before me, letting my eyes show my desperation, my need, my fear. And Rothman smiled a smile that was empty of warmth as he took notice of all of this.

When his head tilted to his left, I didn't breathe a sigh of relief at being allowed to move away from him. I had made that mistake a long time ago.

Instead, I kept my desperation in my eyes, and held his gaze for a moment longer before stepping aside.

My hands pressed against the edge of a table as I surveyed the lone plate of food resting on it, and after a moment, I reached forward to it.

I gripped the plate tightly, mouth watering at the scent that arose and tickled my nostrils, increasing the pain in my stomach.

I had not been allowed to eat for several days and had relied on drinking water only, and the need to devour the food right there was almost overwhelming, but I resisted the urge.

Without a word, I lifted up the plate, and I exited the mostly dark room, aware that the Alpha watched me throughout it all.

Several lycans were outside of the small home I exited. All of them were watching me, disgust evident in their faces and scowls upon many mouths.

These expressions were not new to me, and did not affect me the way they once did in the past.

My eyes lowered back to my plate as I continued walking, my fingers shaking the longer I stared at what rested on my plate.

The meat was fatty and the small scoop of vegetables were hard and brittle.

But when I reached my cell, and the clanging of the door echoed behind me whilst I sat upon the floor, I immediately ate, jaw working furiously as I chewed and swallowed food, tasting little, just consuming.

And when I finished my meal, I licked the plate clean, my chest heaving with each ragged breath I took.

Disappointment settled in soon after, and I finally came down from the adrenaline punching through my veins.

I was still hungry, but I knew I would not receive another meal today. I ran my tongue over my teeth and along the insides of my cheeks, searching for any scraps or pieces of food left behind, finding little but swallowing the few anyway.

My fingers curled tight around the curved edges of my now empty plate, and my eyes blinked slowly, a familiar aching heaviness in them.

I had not slept the night before, as the Luna of this pack had wanted me to perform much more duties than I had ever done in the past. The pull of sleep was rapidly catching up to me.

I allowed myself a moment, gathering myself, trying to soothe the wild beating in my heart at the thought of returning back to the Luna's home - she had said that there were more tasks I needed to complete, and she would be there to observe me throughout most of them.

She was quick to anger, and her standards, ones which were mostly impossible, were always expected of me to meet.

I rubbed at my mouth with the back of my hand, inhaled deeply as I mentally prepared myself for what laid ahead, and when I stood, plate in hand, I forced my composure into one that was calm.

********

That calm composure fled three hours later. Instead, my limbs felt heavy with each jagged movement I made as I mopped, and I could feel the stickiness of my sweat intermingling with the trail of blood running down the back of my neck and into my shirt.

My sandals dragged against the floor, not because I did this purposely, but because lifting my feet was difficult.

I'd been reprimanded, as I had expected to be. I had failed to reach one of the Luna's unattainable standards, and a barbed wire had been used on me, had ripped open the skin and flesh on the back of my neck.

And now, here I stood, with tight, pressed lips and burning eyes as I mopped along one of the floors of her home- a corridor floor which I knew had been cleaned already.

It was spotless and free from dirt or whatever the Luna, Edith, claimed it held. This did not matter. I was to mop it until she was satisfied.

The Luna's gaze was on me throughout me mopping, and I could hear her whispered words to one of her daughters, Nelda, an eleven year old girl.

"Do you see how she moves? So slow, yes? And do you see her shirt? Her skin? How filthy she is?"

"Yes."

"She isn't cleaning good enough. The corridor floor is still dirty. You can see that, correct?"

There was a pause, and then, "Yes...?"

My fingers curled tight around the mop's handle, and I sucked in air, hearing the catch in my breath as I did.

Nelda's words were soft, holding a trace of pity. "She's crying, isn't she?"

"Whether or not she cries does not matter, dear. You know how they are, the ways they can manipulate. Tears are one of those ways. We can't show them pity. Especially her. Understood?"

"Yes, mother."

My cracked lips tightened, and I raised the mop, plunging it into the water of the bucket loudly. I took my frustration out into the mop, pressing it hard into the bucket until my fingers and knuckles burned.

Pain ripped through my neck when I eventually lifted it as I began to shift away, and I paused from moving as the room appeared to spin for a few seconds.

Sweat trickled down the side of my forehead and glided down my cheek.

"Are you finished, slave?" Edith's voice called out to me from where she stood at the opposite end of the corridor

My fingers swept along the handle of the mop, twisting it and myself towards the two lycans, not meeting their gazes as I did so.

"I..." My voice trailed off, uncertain. My mind felt foggy, and dizziness still left me confused. "I will be finished when you tell me to stop."

A low sound came from Edith, a hum, and then she said, "That's right. And did I tell you to stop, Leora?"

My teeth clashed together but I spoke, softly, "No ma'am."

Edith spat abruptly, her voice raised and reverberating, making me flinch, "Then fucking get back to work!"

A broken whimper came from her daughter, and I saw the way Edith pressed a hand against her shoulder, apologizing softly, the change in the way she spoke rapid. "I am sorry, Nelda. You know how she makes me."

I drew in another shaky breath, ignoring the burn from my neck, and I began mopping, again. The mother and daughter watched me throughout it all, exchanging loud whispers and laughing softly at times.

I was silent as they did, and kept my head low and eyes focused on the tiled floor I mopped.

But when silence eventually settled in, and remained that way after a period of time, I found it to be strange, so I flicked a glance towards them.

The Alpha, Rothman, had arrived. His lips were pressed against the hair of his mate's head and her body was pressed against his side.

However, as Rothman kissed his mate, his glowing eyes were on me, focused firmly with something sly swirling in them.

Strained jealousy captured the Luna's face when she realized he watched me, and I saw the way she angled her body before his own, blocking me from his view, her words low, flirtatious.

Nelda pulled a face and the sounds of her feet carrying her away echoed as she left.

And just as I began resuming mopping, Rothman's voice met my ears. "You are dismissed."

My head jerked up and my gaze held the Alpha's own, momentarily, before going to his mate's.

Displeasure was etched into her features, but she nodded, stiffly. Relief seeped into my bones and I grabbed the mop and bucket, moving quickly before either of them could change their minds.

After putting away the mop and bucket, I left the house and returned back to my cell, eager to gather the few clothes resting on the floor that I could change into after showering away my sweat and blood, but the sounds of the cell's doors clanging shut rang loud behind me when I lowered myself to the ground.

My head jerked towards the noise, and I watched as a warrior, Boris, locked the door, his gaze focused on the blood staining my shirt.

Boris and I seldom spoke to each other, however, his dislike towards me was evident in every little interaction we had with each other.

His mouth was a sneer when he spoke. "You're staying in tonight, Leora."

My fingers lowered from the shirt I'd begun to lift and I swallowed thickly, still feeling the dryness in my throat. "Why?" I blurted.

Boris' eyes narrowed at my question, but I held his gaze. I could feel the back of my neck stinging from the blow from the barbed wire, and knew that the flow of blood had stopped and dried upon my skin.

It was certainly not the first time I wouldn't be allowed to bathe after a strenuous day, but I did want to know the reason for it this time.

"Luna's direct orders." Boris finally clipped out, and understanding dawned in me. I averted my eyes and lowered myself fully to my floor, listening to his boots as he walked away.

And despite the loud sounds as he walked, his muttered words still could be heard.

"Fuckin' scum."

********

My father had abandoned me near the borders of this pack many years ago, and had clearly wanted me to be found by the lycans who lived here. Why he had done this, I was not entirely sure.

When I searched my memories, I could recall my father stuffing folded paper into one of my front pockets and gripping my shoulder firmly but briefly before leaving me on the outskirts of the pack.

I could still remember him walking away, not looking back as I had cried, but not for him to return. I somehow knew he wouldn't.

I was confused, and had been left tied to a tree. I was not there for long, but I could still remember the terror and fear I'd experienced whilst standing in the darkness.

And when I had been found, and the lycans had read what had been on that paper, without hesitation I had been made to stay in one of the prison's jail cells.

And as more humans came to the pack, and were forced into becoming slaves for the lycans, they slept elsewhere, whilst I was told to remain sleeping and living in the prison cell.

I knew that most of the slaves must have been told to interact little with me, as I have yet to meet someone who would try to speak or build a friendship with me.

So, when I wasn't doing the duties commanded of me, I would read the books some of the lycans had tossed away into trash cans.

I had started collecting them as a child, and managed to sneak them in if I brought other items, usually clothes, with me.

They would be hidden well under them. As time passed, I knew that those who visited the prison, including Boris, discovered my books.

He had not spoken of them, or tried to get rid of them. The books helped ease the loneliness that arose throughout the days, and allowed me an escape from my reality.

So when I came to my cell, after a particularly long day, with my body aching in pain because of heavy lifting and sharp blows, I felt something hard and sinking move through my lower stomach when I discovered the books were gone.

I stood outside of the cell's door, watching, staring in disbelief at where I knew my books were usually piled. Nothing was there. Not a trace of a book rested on the floor.

And then, Boris' voice reached me, and I turned to look at him, staring right into his eyes, unable to disguise my anger at what had been taken away from me.

"The Alpha visited," Boris revealed to me, grunting out the words, his arms folded across his chest, and eyes fixed firmly on me. "He took them."

My voice was hoarse and strained with thick emotion when I asked, "Why?"

"He said if you wanted them back, then you would know what to do."

I held Boris' gaze for a moment longer as my mind churned. My fingers curled tight, and my nails pressed into my palms.

Rothman wanted me to beg for them. He'd done this before, when he had taken all of my clothes, and I had sought him out after Boris had reluctantly told me where to go.

And when I had discovered what I would need to do, I begged with reluctance, on my knees, whilst he sat in his chair, looking down upon me, observing me as each plea fell from my mouth.

My head tipped down and I stared blankly at the floor.

I needed those books, and so, after pulling myself together, and sending one last look towards the stone-faced lycan watching me, I left the prison and went to the small home I knew the Alpha frequented.

Rothman was waiting for me.

He was already seated, confident, his smile cocky and brimming with dark satisfaction. I did not greet him, and instead, my gaze moved to the pile of books resting on the table beside him.

"Close the door behind you, Leora."

The hairs on the back of my neck began to tingle, and discomfort swept through my entire being at Rothman's command. But I did as asked, and closed the door, holding his gaze throughout it.

"My books, sir."

Rothman's eyebrows raised. He knew I was angry. I'd spoken through gritted teeth, and I was struggling to keep my emotions at bay.

His fingers curled around the edges of the chair handles and he leaned forward, never breaking eye contact with me as he purred. "Beg for them, slave."

I could feel a burn in the back of my eyes, and I remained rigid where I stood, watching him. A ringing noise was filling my ears, and I could feel my chest constricting as I stared at Rothman.

And then, my gaze went to my books, and I took several steps forward, almost closing the distance between us.

There was once a time when I might have allowed my pride to control most of my actions. But I learned the consequences of that, and had changed. A prideful human would get killed here in this pack, or they would lose much.

And I could not lose those books.

I knelt slowly to the floor, and threaded my fingers together. Rothman's white teeth and fangs that showed when he smiled made a ripple of fear go down my spine as I began to beg for the books, his pupils enlarged and on me.

"Please, sir." My voice was soft and pierced with my distress, filling the room despite its low volume. Inside, pure rage was boiling in me, but I dared not let that seep into my tone, voice, or body language.

Instead, I repeated those two words, over and over, never changing my tone or raising my voice throughout it all. It almost became a chant, and I knew Rothman was pleased.

A muscle ticked in Rothman's jaw, and that ticking increased with each soft begging words I produced.

His fingers flexed around the handles of the chair he sat upon, and I could feel my stomach churn with my disgust when I saw his arousal tenting his pants.

My eyes flicked back up to his face, and I tried to ignore the way his body shifted in that chair as the sound of a zip moving intermingled with my own begging.

Bile rose in my throat when I heard the grunt Rothman released, and then, as I refused to look below his upper body, saw the shifting of his upper arm.

I tasted acid in my mouth, and my words were choked off briefly before I recovered. I refused to look at the Alpha's face or body, something which he thankfully allowed.

Instead, my gaze locked upon the books near me, and I never stopped begging even as bitter anger made my fingers curl into fists.

Ten minutes must have passed before I heard the Alpha curse. My words were cut short when I heard Rothman's growl, and heard his body jerk in the chair.

The sound of splattering on the floor made my stomach twist and I could barely resist dry heaving. Rothman's panting echoed in the cold air when he was finished, and eventually, he grunted,

"Go for them."

I stood immediately and grasped the books. There were at least ten he had taken from me, and their sizes and weights varied.

By the time I had heaved them into my arms, Rothman had left, but the door was open. A musky scent was in the room, and I refused to look at where I knew his release likely rested.

Instead, I held my books tighter to my chest as I too left, unaware that the Luna was outside, standing nearby, watching me as I exited the house a few seconds after her own mate did.

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Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. 💕