Chapter 5 No Acceptance

• Aurora
• I can’t recall the last time I drank but I know it has never felt like it does right now. I jolt out of my warm bed, stuck in the blankets for a second, falling to the floor and having to crawl into the bathroom so I can throw up. My stomach churns, my body so sore that I feel as if I’ve been running for days on end without stopping.
• The memory of yesterday floods my mind while I sit by the toilet, waiting to hurl. Luke found his mate and my stomach seizes at the sight of him kissing her so outright. Everything changed so fast, too fast, that it left me in the dust to figure out alone.
• Then there was the casino, the endless drinks. After that my mind goes foggy.
• A delicious smell of pancakes and warm syrup floods my senses, and I stand slow, catching my balance. Only now do I spot myself in the mirror. I wear a long-sleeve white shirt, something I’ve never owned nor would I; it’s made for a male. Aside from that, a light bruise brushes my temple, a few little spots on my arms discolored like I got in a fight. My lower lip is cut, a pinkish mark running my symmetrical, peach-colored mouth.
• None of it makes sense but I slip on some shorts and hurry downstairs to the smell of fresh breakfast. I spot my mom and dad in the kitchen, leaning over the stove, holding one another oddly close, my mom turning to greet me with wide, bloodshot eyes full of fresh tears.
• “Mom—” I breathe, wondering why she seems so upset but I also see that my dad is in the same state, his face tired and pale, his light eyes now dark with red streaks of stress. “What’s wrong?” my heart aches at the horrible thought that maybe the royals came back and assaulted my mom even more than they had the other day.
• I stare at the table lush with a breakfast feast I have never known my mother to make, but I want to sit down and enjoy it all. They don’t seem so keen, frozen in shock, in fear almost, and I wait for them to explain it to me.
• That’s when the front door swings open, making me jump.
• A tall, brute man walks into the house like he was invited in. His black hair is slicked back over his sharp features, his eyes cold and cyan like jewels worth thousands of gold coins. I swallow hard at the sight of him. He is unfamiliar to me but in the same breath, I feel as if I have seen him in passing, at least for a second. He pauses in the middle of the living room, looking up and down the length of me.
• I tremble while he grins, amused.
• “Who is this?” I ask my parents, turning to see them bowing their head at the stranger. It makes no sense, and I don’t register their variety of emotions— their apprehensiveness. It is perplexing to watch them cower and refuse to answer my question.
• “Someone, please explain what is going on.”
• The man in the living room adjusts his navy blazer, centering it in front of his bold chest, his cold gaze only focused on me and not my parents. He holds himself to look tall, to intimidate, and it works. I feel my wolf wanting to cower at the sight of him, at the smell—
• He is a royal.
• I’ve never seen one up close like this, standing in the living room of my family home. He has to be one of the monsters who tore through my room, searching for me and my unmated neck. He could be here to take what I didn’t give him the other day, and my heart falls straight into my stomach at the thought of being raped in my own home.
• He could easily kill me after words, uncaring of repercussions because there will be none. They are ruthless, and the thought of him hurting me makes me want to fall and beg for my life.
• He smells of frankincense, of pine as well, and the mix almost threatens to cover up the sheer smell of his authority. I can’t help but want to offer my neck, something aching in my throat when I move to bow my head like my parents. I’m in a comprisable position and as I offer my neck, he could take one swipe at my throat and kill me; the punishment for slipping through the cracks of being found for so many years.
• He steps before me, his fingers trailing up my throat and resting under the cliff of my chin. He tips my head up, forcing it so easily, and I feel like a pile of dough in his hands, easy to manipulate and form by his will. He is powerful, authoritative, and I feel weaker than ever before just by standing under his exceptionally tall glare.
• “Aurora Hunter,” he says, my name in his throat so rough and raspy.
• “Don’t kill me,” I mutter, begging.
• My mother tenses in the kitchen, enough for me to notice.
• The stranger doesn’t seem to mind, commanding my attention, his finger brushing across my cheek and to my bruised temple. I refrain from pulling away, mostly because his skin is so warm and soft, I would have assumed he would have made his move by now if his intent was to kill me right away.
• Of course, he will use me first, take my body and force himself onto me. I cry softly at the thought of being the young woman screaming out as a royal ravishes her body against her will.
• “My name is Jaxson Knight,” he says, his lips pursed into a thin, tight smile. “Do you remember what happened last night, Aurora?”
• My stomach cramps, something dark in my memory fogging the events after Ann and I indulged deeper into drunkenness. “No, I don’t.”
• He pauses, as though he is assessing me.
• “Sire, please, she isn’t twenty yet, she cannot fix the fact that you are ma—” my father starts.
• Jaxson snarls, cutting him off. “She is mine, either way. I will have what is mine, and you will not dare try to stop me, damn commoner.” He spits the word.
• Damn commoner.
• I step back, something so cold and formal in his voice. I don’t know much about what they are saying but one word does stick out in my head. Sire. Jaxson is a royal undoubtably but the way he carries himself, the natural pull I have to bow to him and the name my father used to address him. It all falls into place in my hectic mind.
• “Sire?” I breathe, repeating his words. “You’re a royal prince.”
• His lips curl at my words, his fingers pressing to the bruises on my neck just to watch me wince. I notice something cold in his glare, something leaking with ferocity, and he growls at the sight of me pulling away from his touch.
• I want to question him, to question my parents, but words don’t dare form. Instead, my pulse peaks, my wolf whines, and the only thing I can think about right now is how I have managed to escape the inevitable for so long, I wish I had lasted longer without being found and used.
• Without thinking, I bolt towards the back door, throwing it open with every intention to run. I don’t know where to run, or what to do when I escape, but I find out soon that I won’t have to worry about that. Royal warriors in uniforms of their strict pack stand waiting, scattered outside the back of my parent’s home.
• They look at me like a threat. I feel like a prey.
• One of them closest grabs my shirt collar, yanking me forward to knock me off-balance, then throwing me backwards into a freefall.
• Thick arms wrap around my body from behind, pinning me to a broad, thick chest. I try to struggle free, instead feeling Jaxson exhale deeply against my neck, his breath hot and slithering around my throat. He presses his fangs to my throat, threatening me, and I fear he may end me right here, right now, without a second thought.
• “Enough of this,” he says, unamused. He pulls me back inside the house and plants me into a chair at the dining room table. He circles behind my chair, growling a low, hollow snarl into my ear. “You belong to me, Aurora. Don’t run or you’ll be subjected to my warriors. They like the sounds of common girls screaming.”
• He forces a plate of breakfast food in front of me, while me and my parents are all shaking in fear, his threat so cold and so harsh that I let the sobs run down my face freely.
• “Eat,” he barks, mostly at me. “Your breath still reeks of potion and alcohol. I hate that smell.”
• I don’t touch much food at all. My body aches and my mind is fogged and confused. I replay the night over and over again in my head, trying to bring back the events of last night, some of the hazy memories seeping in here and there. I see the room of rogues, watching them pillage the place and take me with them as bait.
• Then I see the woods, feeling the breeze over my body and feeling that whatever clothes I did have on are ripped off. I shiver, closing my eyes, and the ache of my body takes over the fear in my mind. I remember going into heat, the blinding pain, and feeling the rogue grab my sides in anticipation.
• I lift up my shirt slightly at the table.
• Bruises line the spots between my rib bones on both sides of my body.
• Jaxson slaps at my hand, light enough not to break it at least, and I let the fabric all over the sight. I wipe my sobs and he forces a fork into my hand, pushing my plate closer, eyeing me as I take a shaky, unsure bite of meat.
• “Sire, please, just reject her and let us keep her!” my mother blurts out in a panic, her face red and splotchy in frustration and sadness.
• My hand shivers so bad I drop the fork.
• “Reject me?”
• Jaxson hauls a glass across the room, just to watch it shatter against he counters, everyone going silent at the simple, yet terrifying, act of anger. “Everyone shut up,” he growls, leaning his stiff elbows onto the dining table, his eyes flickering from gray to black and then back to cyan.
• “Commoner or not,” he barks, his voice carrying through the house with such ease. “She is my mate. She is mine!” He slams his fists on the table and I watch it splinter a crack down the center. “I will not have simple wolves like you tell me what to do with my mate!”
• I stop breathing for a second, every possible fear I’ve had in the last twenty minutes now intensifying times infinity.
• My mate is a royal prince?