Enslaved By The Lycan King

CHAPTER 1: The Offering

Tears fell down my cheeks as I trembled on my spot.

“P-please… no! help!” One of the girls with me screamed as she struggled in front of the pole where she was tied alone.

I could only watch her, my knees trembling as the cold metal of the pole behind me seeped on my skin. Like her, I was tied tightly, ready to be offered.

The entire place was lit with orange-yellow lights from the torches that surrounded us. In the middle was the huge statue of the very first Lycan King that ruled over Vamos.

Its stony eyes looked down on us, condescending our weak existence.

I could still feel the blood trickling down the side of my face from the slap I got. I struggled from the guard that took me earlier, and he slapped me so hard that my head turned and slammed on the wall; the side of my head getting sliced by its rough texture.

Despite feeling dizzy and my vision blurring, I couldn’t stop feeling the swirling in my stomach. The magnetic pull I had started feeling since they delivered us in this place never ceased, and it only intensified once they tied us here, in the kingdom’s town square.

For five years, I had become accustomed to pain due to all the beatings and abuse we’ve gotten in the House.

After k********g us, they took us as slaves in the black market, serving bastards and jackasses that didn’t care about anything nor anyone but themselves.

But this level of pain and discomfort I was feeling, knowing who’s hands we were going to be in for the next days of our lives, was making me want to throw up.

I wanted to run away.

Attempting to get away, I pulled my hand from the pole behind me. Yet it did nothing but only tire me even more, my strength slowly seeping away from me.

“No… t-this can’t be.” I mumbled to myself as cold sweats broke in my body. "They k-killed Dad, I can’t let them get me.”

A lycan man was the one who killed my father. And from that day on, the stories I've only feared as a kid, became a fear that I knew would last no matter my age.

My entire body was shaking, my hands tied so tightly I couldn’t feel them anymore. My tears falling non-stop on my cheeks, and my wounds burned from the sweat that trickled on them. But I can’t just surrender. I can’t let them win.

But could I save myself from this?

Weakly, I turned my head to the night sky, looking at the moon that shone so bright in the middle of the stars. It looked like it was also looking at us, a witness to what misery we were facing.

“P-Please help me. H-help us,” I bit my lip as it shook in desperation. My head hung low on my shoulder as my strength completely left me.

I feel like I blacked out for a while, because when I woke up, intensified screams were all I heard.

I opened my eyes and saw tall men with bright, almost glowing eyes, looking at us as if we were food they were about to devour.

Werewolves naturally have distinct features that humans didn’t have. But Lycans were different. They had bigger physiques, more vibrant hairs, and eyes that appeared brighter as if it held greater power than normal werewolves.

I’ve seen beautiful wolves, but there was something captivating with the Lycans. They’re ethereal.

But right now, I couldn't seem to grasp the appreciation I developed of their physique. They were devils in my sight.

Tall and structured male lycans had finally come and started picking their female offerings, their fangs almost peering out of their mouths.

I thought I was too weak to even react, but my body immediately trembled at the sight.

There were only a handful of female lycans in the community, and to preserve their genetically more powerful kind, they had to produce pups from other werewolves. And this ceremony was their solution to that century-long problem. The Offering.

This was made by the first Lycan king, Vamos, who thought it best for his kind to never go extinct and continued ruling. And true enough, they didn’t go extinct and they still to this day rule, but the way they survived was of savagery. They took so many things just so they could thrive.

They were at the top of our hierarchy, and no one can stop them because of their natural power and strength, far more superior than normal werewolves.

So when a man came to me and started holding my cheek, all I could do was flinch.

“D-don’t touch me—“ I gasped when he flicked a finger on my cheek, the movement reverberating towards the wounds I have on my head. I closed my eyes when it made me dizzy.

“You’re lucky enough you’re one of the choices. Stop acting like we’re the abomination,” the man said with a snigger.

I moaned when he once again took my cheek in his fingers. His grip was hard as he watched the blood cascading on the side of my cheek.

“You bloody, dirty b*tch.” My tears fell down at the pain and fear that was overwhelming me. “But I think you’re going to be good enough.”

His bright brown eyes raked my body from my chest to my shaking knees. He suddenly stepped closer to me, his lips on the side of my cheek as he whispered, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. You’d realize how lucky you are to be part of the offering.”

A sob escaped my lips when he started laughing and caressing my waist and stomach.

‘Was this it? Was this going to be the end for me?’ I thought as I looked at the moon again, my heart aching at the events of my life.

Screams and pleas for help were all that I could hear. Sadness, pain and most especially fear filled the air as the ceremony continued on. And I saw in the corner of my eyes that there were some people just standing and looking at us, despite our cries for help.

It made me sob harder.

But all of a sudden, the crowd started silencing. It wasn’t an abrupt stillness, but the eerie quietness that started spreading left something chilly in the atmosphere, that even the man who had started smelling my neck stopped and looked at what was happening.

With just a look, all that magnetic pull and swirling in my stomach came back. My breath caught in my throat, as a foreign feeling assaulted me at the sight of the man who was in the middle of the chaos.

He stood there like he owned the place. So tall. So confident. And under a mass of dark raven hair, were eyes as bright and majestic as gold.

For a moment, those mesmerizing eyes became silver, a sheen of silver light passing through his golden orbs, and at the same time, I felt something whoosh inside as I also felt like something passed through my eyes.

And at that very moment, for the first time, my wolf spoke in her soft voice, “Mate.”

“King Titus, Your Majesty.”

My attention snapped back when the man who was holding me suddenly spoke. People nearby started backing away and bowing their heads at the presence of the man. He also bowed his head low at the man whom my wolf just called mate.

My eyes widened.

He's the Lycan king?