Chapter 18

Aurora

Luke hasn’t woken from his injuries yet, but I feel obligated to try and sneak down to the medical wing as best as possible. It never works. The door is always guarded by warriors, but I have noticed a lag of protection at one time during the day.

High noon.

I don’t know if it’s because they are changing shifts or grabbing lunch, but I watch the steps of shadows leave the crease under the door for exactly ninety-four seconds. I’ve counted everyday since I’ve been locked back up here.

When the sun peaks, my heart throbs, wondering if Luke is awake and scared of his surrounds; just like I how I feel.

I watch the shadows disperse and decide it’s time to move.

I grab for the fire poker, a long iron bar still hot from resting in the heated logs, and I jam it between the doors, trying to not make too much sound. The hot iron sizzles against the cold door, and I slide it down until it catches some feat of resistance.

The lock. I push my whole body wait against it, hoping it works, and eventually I hear the iron breaking into the silver door lock until I breaks, splintering into little silver specs that fall to the floor. I throw the iron rod, knowing royals can hear too damn well for their own good, and push the door open just enough to slide out of.

I block snowflake from following, shutting the door again and kicking the silver shreds of the lock under the door to hide the evidence. There is one way to get in and out of my tower, but I know there is also a service stairwell hidden down the hall, used only by commoner females so they don’t get stopped and beat before making it up here with a tray of lunch.

My heart aches at the sounds of their cries. It never leaves my mind.

I have to find Luke, I remind myself.

I slip into the stairwell, skipping over lengths of steps as I practically run down them, feeling dizzy as the claustrophobic walls and tight quarters of the dark stairwell makes my heart race. I turn another curve, stopped in my tracks and almost blurting a yell out.

Two commoner servant girls cower at the sight of me, fearing the same thing as I had feared. They’re not royals here to hurt me. I watch the relief brush down their features, but they are still hesitant. On my birthday I was announced as Jaxson’s mate. They must think it is of my choosing, still slightly frightened by seeing me here.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I breathe, whispering as low as I can while the walls feel like they’re shutting in on us tighter.

The group of them, maybe three—it’s hard to tell in the dark—all nod at my claim.

“I am trying to get to the medical wing,” I hum. “Which way is it?”

One of the girls hesitates, an obvious scar running down her temple to her jawline. I try not to stare at it. It breaks my heart to think of someone hurting a girl this innocent. She has to be at least three, maybe four, years younger than myself.

She musters the courage to reply in muted whisper, “you have to go to the bottom of the stairs and take a left. It’s a long walk, though, and you’ll be seen by at least one royal. That’s where James is on guard. He hates wolves like us.”

My stomach cramps but I know better than succumb to fear now. I will go see Luke, no matter if Jaxson refuses to let me out of the room or not.

“Thank you,” I say, brushing past them and forcing myself down the stairs while my knees want to tremble.

“Be careful,” one of them calls out in mumble.

It does little to calm my nerves.

Soon I am at the bottom of the stairs, holding onto the walls that now are so tight they hit both of my arms when I walk through them. I take a shallow breath, poking my head into the hallway quick, hoping I haven’t been spotted in doing so.

First, I look right and mercifully it’s clear.

Then I look left, hoping for the same outcome, and instead meeting the eyes of a brute royal in a warrior’s unform. I poke my head back into the stairwell, praying he hadn’t seen it, but his light brown and gold eyes replay in my head.

I turn, contemplating running, but the fear of Luke not getting to see me only worries me more. His heavy, stomping steps trace down the hall, approaching the service corridor, and I know it’s not like I can just run back upstairs and pretend nothing happened.

I try my horrible luck and bolt out of the corridor, just missing his hand that reaches out to grab for me. Sprinting down the hall, going left as I was instruction, I can almost feel the reaching strain of his hand nearing my neck, ready to pull me back with one swipe.

It’s never that simple, though.

I hear clothes ripping in response and instead of a hand grabbing for me, a set of thick, large paws pounce against my back, throwing me clear across the hall. I tumble onto my back, gritting my teeth, the pain of my scar still pulsing in agony as my back is trying desperately to heal.

Instead of a wolf, there’s a large, buff man standing over me as I aim to stand, failing, my head spinning and my vison far too blurry. I fall once, pushing myself up on the wall but I only feel warmth trickle down my back.

He must have fractured open my wound.

He laughs, the noise damning in comparison to Xander’s laugh. I shudder at the similarity.

“You thought you’d get past me, bitch?” he growls, speaking through his teeth by the sounds of it. I hit the floor, covering my face and expecting a hit in retaliation to my breaking out of my room. Instead, he chuckles, yanking me away from the wall and flipping me onto my wounded back. “Much better,” he snickers.

My shorts are torn up one side, not completely exposing me until he grabs at my panties and does the same. I flinch, the stench of my blood clogging my rapid thoughts and keeping me quiet. That factor only aids him in his attempt to use me without being caught.

He presses a heavy hand onto my midsection, as if to pin me in place and I finally sneak a glance to see his other hand working to pleasure himself, dangerously close to my sex. The sight of this experience makes my head spin.

His length only grows, his hand working rapidly, enjoying the sight of my blood as he lowers his pelvis damn near to my core.

I aim to scream, already drawing a lengthy breath to do so, but instead he slams his fist against my cheek, silencing me in one blow. I hear my bones shatter in response to the hit. I give up so quickly, waiting for him to get what he wants and then maybe he will leave me alone afterwards.

Instead, I see something glinting in the light behind him, reflecting the sunlight before it swings down and collides perfectly with the large oaf’s face.

He falls sideways, blood pouring down his ear and a fresh cut from his cheek. I scramble to sit up, my ears ringing still from the hit, the servant from the corridor standing behind the wolf while holding a thick, silver platter void of food and pastries.

She tries to catch her breath, her scar sparkling in the light of high noon.

“Run,” she groans, the large wolf already healing before our eyes. He groans a noise, and she throws the platter down, springing back toward the corridor.

I take her timely advice and try to hold my shorts together on the side while I run until the hallways looks familiar. It isn’t long before I hear the commotion from the hallway behind me, screaming about a warrior passed out in the hall.

It only makes me run faster, glancing through every window, into every door until I spot the familiar features of my best friend laid out on a cot. He is dead to world, taking shallow breathes, and I shut the door behind my entrance, circling his bed and falling to the floor, my body shaking so much that I can’t picture ever feeling solid again.

He hums an inhale, struggling to not whimper. I am busy doing the same, needing to patch up my shorts but also feeling the strike to my face take its toll. I fall backwards, landing hard on my shoulder, my head resting on the cold tiles while blood slowly streams from my wounds.

The thud of my body must be loud enough to wake a sleeping bear because Luke pounces alive, soon jumping down to the floor beside me, hiding behind the edge of his cot and holding my head off the floor now damp with my crimson aftermath.

“Aurora, what the hell?” he growls.

I reach for him, pulling myself to sit up into his arms and against his taut, warm chest. His arms instinctively curl around me, careful of my back when I hiss a noise and flinch into his grasp harder. He pats his worried breathes into my hair, disheveled from the fight and stained pink.

“Why are you bleeding, little one?”

I only shake my head, holding him so tight that I will refuse to let go of him. “I had to see you, Luke. I had to thank you for what you did in fighting Xander. He—he was going—"

I cough a cry, feeling the similar terror now while my shorts are ripped clean down on hip.

“Shh, stop crying, please, it hurts to hear,” he says, brushing a hand down my side. He stops when his hand hits the tear of my shorts and the absent of underwear beneath them. My skin I ice cold compared to his. “What happened to your pants?”

“I escaped to come see you,” I breathe in between sharp inhales. “I was stopped by a royal—he tried to—but he didn’t get to—"

“AURORA!”

I flinch at the sound of Jaxson’s voice carrying down the hallway and barging into the room where we lay. I squeeze him tighter, burying myself in his arms and wondering if I will ever get to do this act again without Jaxson breathing down my neck.

“I know you have a mate, and Jaxson has claimed me but,” I cry, looking up to see his worried eyes pace between me and the door into the room, “please, Luke, don’t let him hurt me.”

He hesitates to reply, the door being slammed inward like it was locked; it wasn’t. I hear it hit the opposite wall and I bury myself further, expecting the worst outcome. I’ll be raped, I’ll be beat, and I’ll be used as a plaything for these sadistic royals the second Jaxson realizes the mistake it was accepting a commoner for a mate.

I anticipate rejection and pain to slam into me at once.