Chained to the Enemy Alpha
Chapter 34: Ruin and Relief

Chapter 34: Chapter 34: Ruin and Relief

The mood in the garden hall had shifted.

The drunken laughter echoed across the floor, layered with the sound of skin against skin, of moans behind masks, and the scent of wine and sweat clinging to the night air filled with sin. Under the silver light of the full moon, nothing was sacred.

“Bring in the next one,” someone called.

The doors parted, and several guards dragged a figure into the hall.

Gasps and scattered laughter rippled through the crowd.

Xavier Brightpaw.

His hair hung in greasy strands, his body littered with scars and bruises, the collar around his neck dragging a chain behind him. He stumbled as they forced him to kneel at the center of the hall, arms limp, eyes glazed.

The Luna Queen’s laughter was the first to cut through the silence. Free, like nothing in the world bothered. Like she owned the world.

“Oh... this is the infamous Brightpaw heir?” she drawled, rising from her seat with a slow, feline grace. She walked toward him, dragging her fingertips across his shoulders. “He looks like a stray mongrel.”

One of the guards whispered something in her ear.

She threw her head back and laughed again. “Really? They cut off his balls? Fed them to pigs?”

The King chuckled awkwardly, swirling wine in his goblet. “Disgusting business.”

“I think it’s deliciously ironic,” the Queen purred, circling Xavier like a predator. She bent down and whispered something in his ear.

Xavier moaned.

The sound wasn’t human. It was animalistics. Depraved. His tongue lolled from his mouth, and he pushed forward, like he was begging to be touched.

“He’s gone completely mad,” Queen Regina observed, delighted.

She turned toward her husband. “What do you think, love? Shall we have some fun with him?”

Alpha King Dace raised a brow. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious.” She sauntered toward him, pressing her chest to his. “Let’s make it a threesome.”

He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. Until she leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

Whatever it was made his lips curled into a grin. “Alright.”

“Or better yet,” she added playfully, casting a glance around the hall. “Let’s make it a foursome.”

Her gaze locked on the space where Lily had once stood. She perked a brow.

“The little slave girl you found earlier. What was her name again?”

He turned, looking for her, but she was gone.

He frowned. “She was just here...”

“Hmm,” Regina murmured, licking wine from her fingertip. “Slippery little thing.”

“Shame. She looked like she’d be fun.”

She smirked. “Then maybe we pull in your little warhound next time.”

“Zayn?”

“Oh, don’t act coy,” she laughed. “Everyone knows the rumors. How long he lasts. How rough he gets. They say he used to break furniture in the slave chambers.”

Both of them looked around but could not find Zayn anywhere either, where had he gone?

Regina’s eyes returned to Xavier, who had collapsed in a puddle of drool and madness.

“Well,” she sighed, “We’ll just have our fun without them then.”

Dace chuckled, and they turned their attention back to the broken man on the floor.

~

Despite her condition, Lily managed to slip out of the garden hall..

Her bare feet slapped against the damp earth, her lungs burning, her vision blurred from a mix of tears and drugged heat. The scent of the party still clung to her—wine, sweat, fear. Her legs trembled beneath her as she ducked under branches, thorns cutting at her thighs.

Somehow, she made it past the edge of the estate, into the thick of the woods.

The cold night air kissed her skin, but it didn’t cool the fire burning beneath her flesh.

The aphrodisiac. It clawed at her senses, drowning her in need. Every breath was ragged, every brush of air against her nipples made her gasp. Her thighs were slick. Her core ached.

She was crying and aroused at the same time. ‘Goddess, what is wrong with me?’ She didn’t understand.

She stumbled to her knees beneath a tree, panting, clutching the bark with both hands. Her body trembled violently. A lake was near, and the moon reflected beautiful images on it. She tried to focus on that moving image, but her body was betraying her.

She needed relief.

She bit down on her lower lip, shaking her head. Eyes squinted close as she pressed her thighs together.

She tried to fight it.

She clawed at her thighs with trembling fingers, trying to still the ache building low in her belly. But it was useless. The warmth had already spread, coiling through her like smoke. Her breath came in broken sobs, not just from fear or exhaustion, but from something darker.

Something needier.

Her thighs pressed together tightly, seeking friction, desperate for it. But even that wasn’t enough.

Her hand moved between her legs before she could stop it, desperate, needy, frantic. She gasped, loud and unfiltered, her fingers slipping between slick folds, clumsy and trembling. She didn’t know what she was doing but she wanted more of it.

Shame screamed in her mind.

But her body... her body moaned.

Her fingertips circled her clit, fast and sloppy, the drug heightening everything, each touch sent sparks racing up her spine, her nipples tightening against the cool night air, her legs trembling as heat pulsed between them.

Her knees buckled. Her back arched as she pressed harder, chasing that pressure that built faster with each stroke. She panted, her mouth parted, and tears mixed with sweat as her hips rocked against her own hand.

She hated herself, but she wanted more.

Her mind swam, her vision blurred by lust and grief and heat. She dug her heels into the earth, spreading her legs wider beneath the moonlight, uncaring of how exposed she was, how filthy and broken she looked.

And then, ‘Zayn.’

His name surged to the surface of her mind, flooding her thoughts like a curse.

She imagined his hands on her hips, firm and unforgiving, possessive. His rough skin against her soft thighs. His teeth at her neck, nipping just hard enough to leave a mark. She could almost hear the gravel in his voice, low and commanding.

‘Beg all you want,’ he said, eyes dark and wild, ‘no one will hear you.’

She hated the sound of it.

But she ached for it.

Her fingers moved faster, wilder now, rubbing raw, sliding over the mess she’d made of herself. She whimpered as her mind replayed it all, his rough grip when he’d first thrown her on his bed. The way he had chained her wrist to the post... how her body had burned in betrayal the night he entered her without mercy.

And still, still, there had been that moment.

That single moment when their eyes met and he had paused. When he had seen her scars and faltered. When his rage cracked and something else, something gentler, peeked through.

She should have clung to that hate.

But all she could remember now was the way he had pushed the poisoned potatoes away. The way he grabbed hold of her hand. The way his scent lingered in her skin even now, clinging like a memory.

She gasped again, one hand gripping the base of the tree, the other working harder between her thighs.

She imagined his fingers instead, long, calloused, curling inside her. His breath ghosting against her collarbone. His body pressing her into the forest floor. She imagined the weight of him. The hunger in his eyes. That broken, wounded edge he always tried to hide behind cruelty.

Her thighs trembled. Her whole body was shaking.

She was close.

So close it hurt. f .r e\ewebnov(e)(l).c om

The pleasure crawled up her spine like fire, hot, dangerous, unforgiving. Her belly tightened, her muscles started spasming, and her lips parted in a moan that didn’t quite leave her throat.

Her hips jerked as her climax tore through her, white-hot, unbearable, devastating.

She bit down on her arm to muffle the cry that escaped, her back arching again as wave after wave crashed over her. Her body twitched violently, her legs buckling, her chest heaving as she rode it out, every nerve alight with shameful bliss.

She collapsed onto her side in the dirt, panting, slick with sweat and something darker. Her thighs glistened in the moonlight. Her fingers were soaked. And her face twisted with guilt, flushed with the aftermath of forbidden pleasure, was streaked with tears.

She curled into herself.

Zayn’s name still echoed in her mind, and she didn’t know if she wanted to scream or cry or reach for him again, but in the silence that followed... at least the ache had faded.

Shame washed over her immediately.

Her face crumpled as fresh tears fell. What had they turned her into?

She curled into herself, naked, dirty, breathless.

But for the first time that night... she felt something like control.

Even if it came with a price.