SKYLAR

Four thrones.

I groggily stir awake, the black tiles beneath me chilly against my bare legs. Moonlight floods in through the vaulted ceiling above. I remember being carried out of the Slave Row in Prince Dariel’s arms. But after that, nothing. How did I end up in a throne room?

I sit up, and tilt my head at the dais again. Long banners hang from its double pillars.

On each one, a tall, muscled black wolf stands upright, jaws bared, talons curled around a crescent moon. Lycans. But why are there four thrones?

I hear footsteps behind me, and stiffen. The sound rings through the room, growing louder as it nears. It stops, but the hairs at the back of my neck stand.

“Why did you buy me for 20 million?” I breathe confidence despite how much my body’s trembling.

I can’t see him, but who else could it be?

“Alpha Destan’s heir is worth that much. Or am I wrong?” he replies smoothly, with an edge of arrogance.

I raise my head slowly. He’s in front of me now, hands clasped behind his back, blocking my view. A chill spreads through my body instantly. I squint, noticing he’s slightly taller than I remember…

“You are wrong, Prince Dariel. I’m priceless.”

He smirks darkly, then turns towards the dais as he moves out of my path. “She thinks I’m you.”

I blink until my eyes hurt. The empty thrones I saw just a moment ago have all been occupied. I recognize Dariel’s dark coat and the way he looks at me with a mix of curiosity and something else I dare not name. He’s crossing his legs, arms resting. His throne is positioned a bit ahead of the rest.

The one who just spoke to me occupies the last throne at the left end.

Four thrones. Four princes. All identical. The chills in my body root deeper, my lips parting in shock.

“What is this?” I rasp fearfully.

“Welcome to Lunari, Skylar,” Dariel says, still unraveling me with his gaze. “We are the princes of the Veiled court. Heirs to the Lycan throne.”

“And you have a lot of explaining to do,” I snap and kneel up, only to realize someone changed me out of my bloodied dress. Panic rises to my throat like bile. “Don’t tell me you dared touch me?!” I shriek.

“You were in dire need of it,” Dariel responds with an impeccably straight face.

My arm quickly covers my chest as it rises and falls. The mental image of him peeling off my old dress and seeing my naked body when he shouldn’t maddens me.

I glare daggers at him, then at the others, though their striking resemblance immediately disorients me.

“How fucking dare you?”

“We were told you’re insolent and too proud,” the prince on Dariel's right tells me in a quiet but dominating voice. "Seems to be true."

“Insolent?” the skin under my eye twitches, and I blow out a breath, averting my gaze. “Because I’m speaking up about being harassed by a prince?!” I snap my neck back, meeting the raw assessment ongoing.

He’s seductively taking in every inch of me, from my face to the curve of my waist. I turn red. For some reason, nothing about this makes my skin crawl. I hate it. I hate that my body doesn’t recoil. That part of me is… curious.

“Four princes to be precise. We all helped in choosing your new dress,” the one who first walked into the room reveals, and my eyes jump back to his smirking face. “Every. Step. Of the way.”

His look is one of torment. But the only thing it’s managing to do is make me… burn.

“Luka. Stevan. That’s enough,” Dariel commands, coming to my rescue.

I look down, my cheeks flushing. I’m like a match stick and they are fire.

Footsteps echo through the room behind me. I avoid the dais, staring holes into the tiles. Suddenly, fingers lift my chin. I take in his dark clothes before my eyes reach his face.

“We’ve searched for the heir to the Storm pack for years now,” Dariel says, not letting go of my chin.

“So you bought me because I claimed to be the one?” I smirk, remembering how he acted like I was delusional. Who has the last laugh now?

He pauses. “Finding someone like you at the Slave Row shocked me. But there are two reasons you are before my throne now.” He clasps his hands behind his back, looking at something behind me.

“Let’s get to it, then.”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” he grins, and finally gestures to what’s behind me.

My pulse races. Slowly, I turn my neck, my breath catching and my body trembling as soon as I see my father in chains. His white hairs have grown out, now unkempt.

My father was not dead. He has been a prisoner of the Lycans all this while.

“Who do you think you are to imprison the great Alpha Destan of the Storm pack?!” I growl, clenching my fists with everything in me.

How long has he been here suffering?

“Release my father this instant,” I demand.

Like a flash, Dariel returns to his throne. The abilities of Lycans are known to be stronger than that of werewolves. They are the superior race.

“That depends on you,” Stevan responds.

“No! Skylar, don’t listen to them! Don’t give them access!” My father screams behind me, and with just a glare from Dariel, the guards jostle him away. The room falls quiet.

I force my eyes to remain on the dais, not to show any weakness. Though it’s breaking my heart to be apart from him after just finding out he’s alive.

“What are the two things you want from me?”

“Break the wards over your pack. Destan can’t undo the very barriers he placed. But his bloodline can.”

“Those wards amongst other things make the Storm pack the most powerful out there.”

“Does it look like we care about what they mean to you?” Dariel hisses while leaned forward.

“I care!” It’s the Elysian stone that has been in the Storm pack for decades that the Lycans want now.

“If you do not help us, your father will die,” the one at Luka’s side reminds me, his tone unmistakably laced with empathy. “Think carefully, Skylar. We are also yet to reveal our second reason for purchasing you.”

I blink a couple of times, torn between saving my father or the pack I still intend to win back. The Elysian stone is our power. We are nothing without it.

“What… else do you want from me?” I ask shakily, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dariel rises from his throne, looking every bit like a force to be reckoned with. “My brothers and I came of mating age years ago, but our fate was to be bound to only one. Such a thing is forbidden in Lunari. We’ve been in rut for years, suffering and longing for release. I journeyed to the Slave Row to find someone desperate enough to help us with this problem.”

I frown dreadfully, shaking my head. “No, Dariel—“

“While you’re in Lunari, you will spend seven nights in our bed. We will bond with you, and fuck you until we are free.”