The scent of blood and sweat clung to the air of the alpha's chamber, thick enough to choke on.
They had dragged me back after the evening meal—after I had dared to spill wine on Riven's tunic, my hands shaking too badly to hold the pitcher steady. His icy rage had been silent, but Kael's answering growl promised retribution.
Now, I stood trembling in the center of their den, the firelight casting monstrous shadows of the four alphas circling me.
Jax was the first to break the silence. "Think she's learned her lesson yet?" He dragged a calloused knuckle down my cheek, grinning when I flinched.
"No." Kael's voice was a dark promise. "But she's about to."
They didn't strip me. Not at first.
Lucian pushed me onto the furs, his grip deceptively gentle as he arranged me on my back. "Hold still," he murmured, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "Unless you want this to hurt more than it has to."
Then Riven's hands were on my thighs, spreading them apart with terrifying efficiency.
Panic lanced through me. "No!"
Kael's fist twisted in my hair, yanking my head back. "You don't say no to us." His free hand ripped the thin fabric between my legs, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room.
Cold air hit bare skin.
I sobbed.
Riven's fingers were cold.
Not just from the winter chill cold like the rest of him, like his deadened eyes. He traced my folds with clinical detachment, his expression unreadable as he noted every flinch, every hitched breath.
"Dry," he observed, as if commenting on the weather.
Jax barked a laugh. "Guess she's not as eager as she pretends."
Lucian leaned over me, his lips grazing my ear. "Don't worry, little rabbit. We'll fix that."
Then Riven's finger pushed inside.
I screamed.
It burned—not just from the intrusion, but from the sheer wrongness of it, of being held open and examined like some thing to be used. My nails scrabbled against the furs, my back arching in a futile attempt to escape.
Kael's grip tightened in my hair. "Take it," he snarled.
Riven added a second finger without warning, the stretch making me whimper. His thumb found the bundle of nerves above, rubbing in slow, cruel circles even as his fingers worked deeper.
"Look at that," Lucian murmured, his breath hot against my neck. "She's wet now."
Shame flooded me. He was right. My body was betraying me, slickness easing the glide of Riven's fingers despite the tears streaking my face.
Jax groaned, palming himself through his trousers. "Fuck, that's pretty. Think she'll come on his fingers like a good little omega?"
"She will." Kael's teeth grazed my throat. "Or she'll learn what happens when she disappoints us."
It built against my will a terrible, coiling heat in my belly.
Riven's fingers curled, brushing something inside that made my thighs tremble. My breath came in ragged gasps, my hips twitching upward despite myself.
"Pathetic," Lucian crooned, watching the way my nipples pebbled under my torn dress. "She can't even stop herself."
The orgasm hit like a punishment, wrenched from me with ruthless precision. My back bowed off the furs, a broken cry tearing from my throat as pleasure shameful, degrading pleasure flooded through me.
For one horrifying moment, I saw myself through their eyes:
A used, slick little thing, spread open and panting on their furs.
Then Kael's growl sent ice through my veins:
"Tomorrow, we see how well that tight cunt takes a real cock."
The great hall of the Bloodmoon Den was alive with firelight and chaos.
Torches blazed in iron sconces, casting flickering shadows over the rough-hewn stone walls. The scent of roasted meat, spiced wine, and sweat thickened the air, mixing with the musk of too many wolves in one place. A long table groaned under the weight of an obscene feast—whole boars with apples stuffed between their jaws, trenchers of steaming bread, flagons of dark wine that sloshed onto the floor with every raucous toast.
And the noise growls, laughter, the clatter of knives, the occasional snarl when someone's drunkenness crossed a line.
I sat perched on the arm of Kael's chair like some prized pet, my thighs squeezed together beneath the scandalously thin silver gown Lucian had draped me in earlier. "Stop fidgeting," Kael murmured, his hand heavy on my bare knee. "You'll draw attention."
Too late.
Every wolf in the room had been staring since we walked in.
Then I saw her.
Mira.
My best friend, my only friend stood near the entrance, her fiery curls dulled by torchlight, her freckled face pale with shock. A Bloodmoon beta had her by the arm, dragging her toward the revels like she was just another prize.
Our eyes met.
Hers filled with tears.
I was moving before I could think, slipping from Kael's grasp and weaving through the crowd.
"Elara" Lucian's warning snarl followed me, but I didn't stop.
I caught Mira in a shadowed hallway, yanking her into the first empty chamber I found—some alpha's bedroom, by the smell of it.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed, gripping her shoulders.
She shook like a leaf in a storm. "I came for you, you idiot! I've been sneaking around the territory for days trying to find you—" Her voice broke as her eyes raked over my gown, the new silver cuffs at my wrists. "Gods, Elara, what have they done to you?"
A hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat.
Because that was the thing.
They'd done everything.
And some sick, twisted part of me... liked it.