Terms of Submission

Marcy's POV

A dark growl vibrates in Torin's chest.

"But that won't be possible because I wouldn't want to risk you having another mate," he snarls. Without warning, his large hand shoots out. His knuckles crash into my jaw with terrifying force. Blinding pain explodes across my cheek, radiating down my neck. The metallic taste of fresh blood instantly floods my mouth.

Tears spill over my lashes. Torin forces my head up. His freezing, unyielding eyes lock onto mine, trapping me in his icy glare.

"I own you," he states, his voice a low, lethal rumble that makes my battered bones rattle against the cold marble floor. "Do you reject this arrangement, or should I call the executioner?"

My soul nearly leaves my trembling flesh at the raw, lethal threat laced in his tone. Every ounce of my pride crumbles.

"No Alpha," I answer, my voice cracking through the blood pooling in my mouth. Hot tears stream down my bruised face. "I will be your slave."

A dark, satisfied smirk stretches across his handsome features. With those five words, my freedom is permanently severed.

An older woman steps out from the shadows, her head bowed. Torin doesn't look at her right away.

"Martha," he commands sharply. "Prepare a private, secluded chamber for her."

He releases my jaw, only to forcefully yank my gaze back up to him when I try to look away. His grip is forged of iron.

"You look at me when I speak to you," he dictates. His smooth, deep voice turns chilling. "You will be attended by maids, and I will summon you when I require you. If you wish to survive in these stone walls, you will obey my laws."

I stay silent, trembling like a cornered prey.

"First," Torin begins, his tone rigid and unbreakable. "You speak only when spoken to. Second, you remain confined in your chambers unless I grant you explicit permission to leave. Third, you never set foot near my personal chambers. Fourth, you never attempt to leave the castle grounds. And most importantly... stay out of Queen Lysandra’s way. You serve her just as you serve me."

His eyes darken with pure, unfiltered malice. "Flouting these rules will earn you excruciating punishment."

He doesn't wait for my response. He abruptly turns his broad back. His large hands rest possessively on Lysandra’s waist as he guides her out of the room, leaving me kneeling in my misery.

Martha approaches, offering a polite, sympathetic smile that contrasts the cruelty I just endured. She gently helps my battered body up from the cold floor and escorts me through the winding stone corridors of the fortress.

"I will draw a warm healing bath for you, my lady," Martha says softly, her eyes holding a gentle pity. "And I will fetch some fresh food. If you need anything at all, please let me know."

Exhausted to my core, my muscles screaming in agony, I stop her with a gentle touch on her arm. "Thank you. But please... just call me Marcy. No formal titles."

Her smile softens. "Alright, Marcy."

Martha shows me the lavatory and slips out to grab a meal. Moments later, a young blonde girl struts into the room. A written note identifies her as Cora, my personal maid.

Ignoring her presence, I collapse onto the soft mattress, desperate for a moment of peace. Cora marches right up to the edge of the bed. She shoves a small notepad in my face. The aggressive scribbles demand I get up, bathe, and change my dirty clothes.

"Please," I beg weakly, staring up at her stubborn expression. "Just give me a single moment to rest my aching bones. I am so tired."

Cora's brows snap together. She furiously scribbles on the pad and shoves it back under my nose.

'I shall report to the Alpha. Do not make things difficult for both of us.'

Annoyance flares through my exhaustion. Her sudden harshness grates on my nerves. "Can't you talk?" I snap in frustration.

Cora freezes. Her angry demeanor melts into a hollow, profoundly sad smile. She slowly opens her mouth and tilts her head back, allowing the light to hit her throat.

I gasp aloud. Sheer horror paralyzes my lungs. Inside her mouth is a gruesome, mutilated stump. Her tongue has been cleanly severed.

"I'm sorry about that," I whisper, my voice trembling with genuine remorse. My heart breaks for her. A dark, terrifying dread creeps into the back of my mind. Was Alpha Torin, my cruel mate, the monster responsible for her horrific mutilation?

Quietly accepting the terrifying reality of my new prison, I meekly take the clean clothes from her waiting hands. I turn away from her sad eyes and rush silently into the lavatory, desperate to wash away the dirt, the blood, and the lingering fear of my tormentor.

Torin's POV

"Alpha Torin!"

Silas, my Beta, hurries frantically into my private study. The heavy oak doors slam shut behind him. He looks in utter disarray. His breathing is heavy, his chest heaving under his tailored shirt, and his face is slick with anxious sweat.

I narrow my eyes dangerously. Even before he crossed the threshold, I sensed it. A heavy, distinctly unfriendly presence of powerful wolves aggressively settling at the bottom of my pack lands. My instincts hum with the promise of a threat.

"What brings you to my presence this bothered?" I demand sharply. Every muscle in my body tenses for a fight. I lean forward over my desk, my patience already wearing thin.

"It's the Council elder wolves," Silas replies in breathless haste, swiping a trembling hand across his forehead. "They are here."

I shoot up from my leather chair. "What? Why are they here?" I demand loudly.

The Council elders do not just show up unannounced on my territory unless there is a severe political crisis. Seeking immediate tactical insight, I close my eyes and reach inward. I call out to my powerful wolf, Grimm, hoping for a clue, a strategy, or even just a shared sense of rage to handle the incoming storm.

Instead of his usual fierce presence, my mental probe hits a cold, solid block. Silence. Complete and utter silence.

Grimm is purposefully shutting me out. He is giving me the silent treatment, deeply furious and disgusted with the brutal, humiliating way I treated our destined mate in the throne room. My own wolf is rebelling against me, right when a political nightmare just walked through my gates.