Xiersa offered a faint, mocking smile. "Then hurry up. This whole spectacle bores me." Feigning a yawn, she closed her eyes and turned onto her side as if settling into sleep.
But Ragus moved like shadow-flanking her back, wrenching her chin upward, fingers tangling in her hair to bare the pale column of her throat. His breath scalded her skin as his fangs lengthened.
"Wha—?!" She jerked her head back, aiming to crack his skull, but he anticipated the move. His body crushed hers into the mattress, a wall of muscle and malice.
"You told me to proceed," he purred, dragging his teeth along her pulse.
"Not with a mark! Have you lost your mind?!"
She thrashed, but the disparity in their strength was laughable. Panic clawed up her throat. Her own mate had never claimed her - now this monster sought to brand her like livestock.
Ragus chuckled, the vibration rattling her bones. "How does it feel," he murmured, "to be utterly powerless?"
She snarled. If only her wolf hadn't abandoned her. "Kill me instead. I'd sooner rot than be defiled by swine like you."
His mouth hovered over her neck - until she twisted, shielding herself with a pillow.
"If you want to rut, then rut! Why mark what you'll discard? This is madness!" Her voice frayed. Bonding made no sense for a fleeting conquest.
Ragus ripped the pillow away, feathers exploding as his claws shredded it. "Taking your body is trivial," he breathed into her ear. "But your mind? That's how you break an enemy." His partial transformation rippled through him - jaw elongating, golden eyes bleeding into human green.
Xiersa scoffed, even as her muscles locked under his aura's honeyed venom. "Couldn't charm anyone willing, Your Majesty? Must you force a bond on some nobody? Go mark a turnip and spare us both the farce!"
She bucked - only for him to flip her onto her back, her body arched and exposed. His scent thickened, cloying as opium, and her heartbeat stuttered. A predator soothing his wolf while ensnaring prey.
His voice fractured into a dual timbre—man and beast. "Now you suggest I take another, when you cursed me."
"What curse?" She'd fought wars, not dabbled in hexes.
The answer came in searing fangs.
Pain detonated as his teeth punched through her neck. She hammered at his chest, but his scent smothered her lungs, her vision spotting with white. Blood welled - then fresh agony as he bit her shoulder, the wound weeping crimson.
No. No
Fog swallowed her thoughts. Pinpricks of light burst behind her eyelids as foreign voices slithered into her skull - pack bonds snapping into place. She could barricade her mind from the others, but never from him.
Fire razed her veins. Her pupils dilated, swirling violet and green before mirroring Ragus' gold for one fractured second.
He knelt before her, pressing a kiss to her limp hand. "Now, Xiersa," he crooned, "won't you kiss your master?"
Her body moved without consent. Her spine curved, lips drifting toward his - until she wrenched control back with a mental snarl.
CRACK.
The slap landed with enough force to snap her own wrist. She cradled the injury, teeth gritted. She'd endured worse. This was nothing.
Ragus recoiled, his expression unreadable - offended? Hurt?
"A healer will attend you," he bit out, striding toward the window. "But remember: refusal has its limits."
Then he was gone - leaping into the night.
The door burst open. Belle rushed in, her face paling at the bloodied sheets, Xiersa's shattered wrist. "The emperor sent for a physician. Can you - ?"
"Packless trash!"* A maid hissed from the doorway. "Now she's one of us?"
Belle dampened a cloth, dabbing Xiersa's brow with trembling hands. "Welcome, I… What's your name?"
Xiersa exhaled. "Xiersa."
The room iced over.
Belle's fingers froze mid-motion. "Did you say… Xiersa?"
The maids exchanged terrified glances. No need to voice it - Xiersa knew what they were thinking.
The Scythe of the Abandoned Lands. The Butcher-General. The woman who'd once made empires kneel.
And now?
She met Belle's petrified stare and smiled.