Chapter 23 Fucked In The Woods (2)

Chapter 23 Fucked In The Woods (2)
—•LUCIA•—

A loud bang jolted me awake.

I opened my eyes, but all I saw was darkness.

A rough cloth was tied tightly over my eyes, biting into my skin. 

The air reeked of mold, rotten flesh, and the metallic stench of blood, clogging my lungs with every breath.

I tried to speak, but my mouth was stuffed and sealed with a leather gag.

“Mmmph!” I grunted around it.

I tried to move, but I couldn’t.

My ankles were bound together, and my wrists tied behind my back with ropes that bit into my skin.

Fear surged through me instantly.

What am I doing here? 

How did I get here?

My head throbbed, and then the memories hit me all at once, colliding like shards.

The woods. 

The meteor shower. 

The rogues. 

The sting of the syringe in my thigh. 

Wolfbane. 

Darkness.

My heart immediately began to race.

Had the rogues killed me? 

Was I dead?

No—I couldn’t be. But if I wasn’t, where was I?

I began to thrash, my body twisting against the cold stone floor. I pushed myself up until I was sitting.

“She’s awake,” a voice called from a few feet away. “Tell the king she’s awake.”

King? What king? 

Goddess… where the hell am I? 

Was I being enslaved? Or worse—sold off?

No. No… I couldn’t be.

I hadn’t even lived my life yet. I’d just turned eighteen a week ago, and I hadn’t even found my mate.

My father… he was probably looking for me by now, furious that I’d escaped.

I should have listened. I should have stayed in my room, just like Father ordered.

A sudden, violent bang of a metal door slamming open made me freeze.

“Where is she?” a new voice boomed, echoing off the walls.

“Here, sir,” the voice a few feet away replied.

Clang! Clang! Clang! 

Heavy boots thudded against the stone floor, each step drawing closer.

My heart raced so fast it made me feel sick, fear sinking deep into my bones as the sound neared.

In that moment, I wished I could disappear, blink, and wake up in my soft bed.

But I couldn’t.

The boots stopped right in front of me, and my breath hitched.

“Remove the blindfold,” a deep voice growled in front of me.

Lighter footsteps approached, then hands grabbed the back of my head, fumbling with the knot.

The cloth covering my eyes fell away. I squinted, my eyes stinging as they adjusted to the dim light.

To my left, I saw iron bars, cells, and stone walls weeping with damp.

I was in a dungeon—an ancient, foul dungeon.

But why am I here? 

I’m not a prisoner. 

I’m a princess—a fucking Princess of the Blood Fang Pack.

“Look at me, you mutt,” the voice in front of me growled.

I turned my head and my eyes fell on the most terrifying face I had ever seen.

His face was rugged, marked with scars. His left eye was red, a scar running across it. 

Other horrible scars crisscrossed his skin, but the worst was the one under his right eye, a deep, gnarled trench that twisted his face into a permanent sneer.

He looked like he’d slit a person’s throat just to watch the life fade from their eyes.

I gulped and lowered my gaze to the floor, not daring to look at him for another second.

The man’s hand, hard as iron, clamped around my chin, forcing my head back up.

His fingers dug into my skin. “Eyes on me, mutt. Don’t you dare turn away.”

His voice was so deep it vibrated in my chest.

“Understood?” he growled, his dark gaze drilling into my soul.

I nodded.

He leaned in close, his nose almost brushing my skin as he sniffed me moving from my hair to my temple, down to my neck.

I shrank into myself, my stomach churning. I felt violated.

“You smell like royal blood,” he grunted, leaning closer to my throat. “Blood Fang royal blood.” He pulled back slightly, his cruel eyes narrowing. “That means you’re the Blood Fang Pack King’s daughter.”

My eyes widened. 

He knows.

If he knows… that’s good, right? He’ll be afraid and won’t be able to harm me—at least for now.

The man’s lips split into a wicked smile, the scar on his cheek twisting gruesomely. “The Rogue King will be glad.”

The Rogue King?

No!

If he knows I’m the Blood Fang Pack King’s daughter, he’ll surely harm me—or worse, kill me.

I shook my head violently as a fear far worse than any I had ever felt gripped me.

“Mmmph! Mmm-mmmph!” I tried to speak, but the gag muffled my words.

The man yanked the gag from my mouth.

I spat onto the floor, coughing as I tried to rid my tongue of the taste of old leather and sweat.

“Speak,” he commanded.

“You have the wrong person,” I blurted. “I’m not the Blood Fang Pack King’s daughter. You’re mistaken. You have the wrong person.”

He gripped my jaw tighter, making me whimper. He pulled me so close I could see the broken blood vessels in his eyes. 

“One thing I hate is liars, mutt. Anyone who lies to me has their tongue cut out and fed to the rats, and you won’t be any exception,” he growled.

I gulped. 

This man was far more terrifying than I had imagined.

“Now, follow me,” he said.

Before I could protest, his hand tightened around my left arm and yanked me to my feet. 

My bound legs buckled, but he didn’t wait. 

He just started dragging me, his grip like a vise on my arm. 

I stumbled, struggling to keep up. 

Rows of cells passed by, filled with filthy, skeletal prisoners staring with hollow eyes. 

As he kept dragging me, I hopped and staggered, trying to find my balance.

“Please,” I gasped. “Just untie my legs. I can’t walk like this. I’ll follow you, I promise, but please remove the ropes from my ankles so I can walk properly.”

He ignored me completely and kept dragging me forward.

My bare feet scraped over the rough stones. 

I tripped on a raised flagstone, but his brutal grip kept me from falling.

Anger flared through my fear. “Untie me! I can’t keep walking like this!” I shouted, my voice echoing down the dimly lit corridor.

He stopped abruptly and slowly turned his head toward me.

“You are in no position to make demands,” he snarled, his voice low and deadly. “So shut your mouth, mutt.”

Without another word, he turned and began dragging me again.

I stayed silent, pouring all my energy into keeping upright, gritting my teeth as pain shot up my legs with every step.

He dragged me out of the dungeon, into the cold night air, across a barren courtyard, and toward a massive, dark palace silhouetted against the moon. 

I knew immediately—it was the Rogue King’s palace.

My heart thundered in my chest.

After a few minutes we entered the palace. 

The interior was shadowy, only a few torches sputtering in brackets, flickering shadows along the walls.

He dragged me to a wide staircase and started up. 

My toes and shins banged against every stone step. It was sheer torture.

I bit my lip to keep from myself crying out. 

I didn’t need to see to know my legs were a mess of bruises and cuts.

After what felt like an eternity of climbing, he turned down a corridor and stopped before a massive door of black wood, carved with twisting oak branches.

He knocked once.

“It’s me, Silas. I’m coming in, my King,” he said, and pushed the door open.

Then he dragged me inside. 

The room was vast and almost entirely dark, illuminated only by moonlight spilling through a high window. 

It pooled like silver on a black obsidian throne at the far end. 

A huge figure sat there, a shadow within the shadows. 

The Rogue King.

His presence filled the room, radiating a dark, oppressive energy that made it hard to breathe.

The scared-looking man dragged me closer, stopping just a few feet from the Rogue King. 

“I have the Blood Fang King’s daughter,” he announced.

“Very well,” the Rogue King said. “You may leave.”

The scared-looking man released my arm so abruptly that I stumbled and fell to the ground.

Without another word, he turned and left, the door closing behind him with a soft, final click.

A thick, heavy silence pressed down on me.

I stared at the floor, my whole body trembling. 

What was the Rogue King going to do to me? 

Kill me? 

Feed me to scavengers? 

Torture me for information? 

Use me to threaten my father?

The Rogue King rose from his throne and closed the distance between us.

His hand, unexpectedly warm, cupped my chin. 

He tilted my head up, forcing me to meet his piercing gaze.

Moonlight caught his face—sharp jaw, full lips, eyes that gleamed like dark amber even in the low light. 

He was handsome, but in a way that felt brutally severe.

And then I felt it.

A pull. 

A deep, twisting pull in the very core of my being.

The connection snapped taut, like a cord pulled to its limit.

It was a feeling I’d only ever heard of in stories and a sensation I'd only ever felt in my dreams.

My breath left me in a shaky gasp, and my eyes widened.

The Rogue King’s pupils flared, and his grip on my chin tightened. 

A low, rumbling growl escaped his chest, a possessive sound that vibrated through the floor and up into my bones.

“Mate!” he growled.