The Red moon Goddess

A slave, that’s what he called me, what they all called me, his property to do with whatever he wished, and by definition he was right. He owned me. It began with my ancestors something along the lines of my great great great grandfather owing the stupid warlock a favour and not having the means of paying the conventional way. So, he did what anyone would I suppose, he sold his daughter to him, signed a contract that would give my master full control over her and all her children, then her children’s children and so on. Until me. When I decided to run away, I met another Alpha who claimed me as Mate. “Who did that to you?!” He growled deeply, causing me to jump and step back. Alpha scowled menacingly, his eyes skimming over my body in anger, stopping at my neck and wrists. Why was he so angry? I looked down at my body, at the old scars and new bruises that lined my petite form, the welts still present on my wrists from the silver chains. This is what happens when Balthazar takes a liking to you, he hurts you, torments you. “I’m a slave.” “A slave?” Blue eyes gasped in horror, some of the wolves around us whining.