Eventually

Freya's Pov

“The Alpha said to put her in here…” a guard yelled, as they bundled Freya past another door and inside a room. Her eyes covered by the wall of their armoured bodies that stood above her. And she couldn't see anything asides her own frame rocking and swaying in their jostling motion.

But soon she felt herself let go and swung in mid-air. Leaping from their solid hands and finding herself mid-flight. She shrieked and closed her eyes bracing for impact. Coming down as fast as she had gone up, her eyes widening in terror as her body made sudden contact.

On soft sheets of blankets and pillows that smelled of lavender?...

Her brows furrowed as her body hit the bed and bounced gently. Her fingers felt confused at the softness of the duvet covers. And her entire frame suddenly lost it's tension as it seemingly sank into the void of comfort?

She turned quickly to look at the guards. Who now all stood there motionless—watching her watch them. Both parties suddenly wondering what the other was thinking.

And Freya's heartbeat doubled instantly as her mind immediately shot back to what had happened when she was captured. How the guards had wanted to rape her... And now her eyes bulged as her breathing turned erratic, afraid these were the same guards, and that they had simply postponed their desires…

“What are you going to do to me?” she screeched, her face turning pale. Her legs scrambling back and deeper inside the bed. Holding on to its frame for support.

“Absolutely nothing…” the guard in the center of the other two answered sharp. As he stepped forward in a systematic clang of steel and authority, holding his sword by it's hilt, that rested sheathed by his side.

“The Alpha said we should keep you here, and that no harm should come to you…” The guard explained, taking another step forward, and making Freya even more tense. “He considers you as a special trophy, and as a man of class, he keeps his special trophies in special cabinets…”

The other two guards seperated from each other as he talked. Moving in opposite directions, in unison of to and fro—and surprisingly to set the room in better order.

As one moved to place the cushions properly, set the coffee table, and pull open the window blinds revealing a set of solid windows seemingly engraved into the walls and cast in stone, wide enough to let an elephant breathing room, and lengthy enough for you to walk straight through like a door.

The other moved and opened the bedroom wardrobe, that held a lustful collection of clothes: dresses and night gowns, pantyhoses and fishnets. Almost anything that wasn't even in the least, modest.

Whilst the guard in front of her kept talking, his hands by his side. Like a general giving a mission briefing, but to a prisoner-of-war instead of a soldier.

“You're lucky that you're a Luna. As you are considered royal even though in this pack, that title holds vaguely. Therefore your time in captivity won't be as gruesome as the rest of your kind we brought home…” he said, with a grin.

“You would stay here till the Alpha requires your presence again…”

But the last sentence struck a wrong chord in Freya's mind. As she wondered why she was being treated with care? It felt strange as she was uncomfortable at the comfort being given to her? Her mind was worried as she stood confused on why she was being held a slave in a room fit for a King? Given clothes and a place to sleep?

The guard explained it was her being a Luna, but that was bullcrap to her. A lie born out of a refusal to be direct. She knew they were prepping her for her death. They were most likely trying to make her get naively relaxed. To fall in love with the place and enjoy the sights… Distract her and make her lose her focus, that she would forget the fact she wasn't at home.

As if she ever even had one…

“Why? Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?” she yelled.

And the guard in front of her had his head bent slightly, humoredly surprised at her outburst. His brows furrowed in a smile. Like a father watching his nine month old trying to say something. It made him smile to see her fiery. Because he knew the fire was only ignited by embers of fear.

“The Alpha is the Alpha for a reason…” he replied. “And as such he is a man who loves to bask in the moment, to truly enjoy every last ounce of the process…” he added, explaining. His eyes now glazing underneath his helmet. “He lives for the hunt, and hunts for the game…”

“What game?!” Freya screamed impatient. Now looking the same as a fish out of water.

And the guard paused now. Interrupted the second time and still finding it laughable. He admired her fighting spirit. As his two colleagues had finished their duties and returned back to their fetal positions behind him, with hands behind their backs and chins raised.

“The game of roll-the-dice and pay the price…” he said, smiling. His hands now gesturing in an entertainers wave. Non-commital and sarcastic.

He raised his head up and scanned the room slowly. Analysing the interior décor his men had done and mentally critiquing it's eloquence. He was happy with their work and made a nod before turning his gaze back to Freya—whose face had now turned whiter than a fishes underbelly…

And he made another eerie smile as he tapped his sword gently. His eyes locking in on Freya's as he did, striking fear in every fibre of her being like an arrow to the heart of an enemy.

Then he gestured to his men with a raise of hand and they both left the room, but leaving the door ajar. He turned back and followed slowly, only stopping at the foot of it's open space; smirking at Freya again.

“It's something you'd find out eventually…”