What happens next is a blurred haze of fragmented memories. I only recall bits and pieces, partially waking up and seeing the Lycan King, being put in various seats, and at one point, I think I remember an airplane.

But every time I woke up, my skin would be pricked by a needle and I slipped back into unconsciousness before I could even be angry about it.

This time, when I wake up, my head is much clearer, but everything is wrong.

My wolf is suppressed.

Panic floods my body as I look around the room, unlike any room I had ever seen before. I was laying in a large bed with red covers and intricate gold patterns woven into it. The walls were also dark red, like fresh blood.

It doesn't take long to realize that I'm in the Lycan King's territory.

I'm used to wearing only my sunstone necklace, but I quickly notice a foreign object around my neck. I pull on it, but it doesn't come off, despite how hard I pull. I could easily break chains far thicker than the one around my neck, but this one doesn't so much as stretch, much less crack. 

My movements are sluggish as I throw my legs over the side of the bed, and I stumble when my feet hit the cold floor. Slowly, I walk to the extravagant bathroom, and look in the mirror to further inspect whatever is wrapped around my neck.

It's a choker, a thin gold chain with a ruby in the center.

My panic deepens when I continue tugging on it, but am unable to break it. There should be no reason why I can't break such a thin chain.

There should be no reason why I'm not bursting into flames right now.

Despite how hard I've tried in the past to contain my fire, the fact that I'm unable to combust frightens me exponentially more.

Fruitlessly, I continue pulling on the chain, and it even cuts into the back of my neck, refusing to break.

"You won't be able to get it off," a soft, feminine voice says from behind me.

Instantly, I tackle the figure to the ground.

A girl, likely no older than me, stares at me in horror. When I inhale, I'm surprised that her scent is human. Not Lycan, not werewolf. Human.

My throat wraps around her wrist and I make sure it's painful. "You're going to tell me how to get out of here," I snarl.

"T-The King," she gasps, her blue eyes wide. "You cannot escape him."

We'll see about that.

Grabbing her by the throat, I yank her to her feet, holding her out in front of me as I leave the horrible, blood-colored room.

Lycan men, guards, I assume, instantly surround me. Good thing I have a hostage, or else escaping wouldn't be nearly as easy.

To my surprise, nobody shifts. All of them hold weapons, most of them swords. I count ten men. Unfortunately, it seems the Lycan King did not make the mistake of only putting one or two guards outside of my room.

"If anyone moves, I kill the girl," I snarl, and my claws drop. One slight flick of my wrist and I could severe her carotid.

Some of the guards look at me in shock, while some of the others look at each other as if to say: What the fuck are we supposed to do?

The girl's tears hit my hand as they fall down her face, and I shove her forward in front of me. The guards wisely decide to move out of the way, and I trek down the hallway. If I wasn't so focused on escaping, I would have spent more time to look at the paintings that lined the walls.

The hallway alone was huge, and I feared that the rest of the castle would be just as large, if this was any indication. Sure enough, as soon as I turn the corner, I see a large staircase. And blocking it from a few feet away, the person I hate most was calmly standing.

"Good to see you vertical, Drakon," the Lycan King smiles, his grin just as infuriating as his accent.

"I will kill the girl if you try to stop me from leaving," I say lowly. "Human or not."

"Please," the girl begs him, and my grip on her tightens as I hold a claw to her throat.

"You're not leaving," he says firmly.

"Did you hear me? I will kill her."

"Do it then," he says, sounding borderline amused, and if not for whatever he did to make my flames die out, I would have exploded.

I shrug, pushing my claw into her throat slightly, drawing blood. He doesn't so much as flinch.

"Last chance," I warn, and the girl shakes so hard that my claw accidentally slides in deeper.

"Do it," he taunts. "I'm waiting, foc mic." I have no idea what the two last words mean, but I'm distracted by the girl's cries and the Lycan King's ambivalence.

"You think I won't?" I snarl.

His head merely cocks to the side in response as he gives me a patronizing grin.

As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. Weak as it made me, and knowing that my mom would have whipped me for such weakness, I didn't have it in me to kill an innocent human girl.

I throw the girl at the Lycan King by her throat, and sprint down the stairs. However, when I reach the end, before I can blink, there's only a blur and he's standing in front of me.

"Let's have a chat, shall we?" he asks, offering his hand.

I take it and crush every bone.

I attempt to kick his manhood in, but he grabs my bare foot with his non-broken hand, seeming shockingly unbothered by his destroyed hand.

He releases my foot, but grabs my shoulder with a surprising amount of force, certainly enough to bruise.

"I said," he says lowly. "We're going to have a chat. You will participate, or I will go back to your continent and kill your pack and leave no survivors."

My eyes widen slightly. He wouldn't.

"Blood Lake, isn't it?" he asks in mock innocence. "Lot of siblings you have, my dear Drakon. The hard part would be deciding which one to slaughter first."

Jett's burned face flashes in my mind.

"Don't," I choke out, trying to make my voice sound hard and failing miserably.

"I'll ask again," he whispers, bending down so his blue eyes are level to mine. "Would you like to have a chat, foc mic?"

I bite my tongue to stop vile words from pouring out. I see red, and flames burn under my skin, but don't leave the surface.

I nod once.

"Good choice." He pushes me forward, still keeping his hand on my shoulder.

He not-so-gently guides me to a stupid little room with more of that god-awful red paint on the walls. He shoves me into an oversized, cushioned, red chair. He sits on the other side of the small golden coffee table in front of us, looking relaxed as he does so.

I glare daggers at him, wishing I had some real daggers to carve out those ugly little blue eyes.

"Let me make something clear, Drakon," he begins, picking a piece of lint off his pristine, formal, black suit. "I don't want you here as much as you don't want to be here."

His words catch me off guard. Sure, I didn't want him, but why would he be so averse to his own mate?

"Then let me go, you stupid fucking furball," I hiss at him, ignoring the pang sent through my heart involuntarily at his words.

"Unfortunately," he continues, disregarding my statement. "My people will only accept my True Mate as their Queen. Even if that True Mate is a childish, insolent, weak werewolf." He practically spits the last word, his disgust tangible.

Weak.

The word I loathed the most, my biggest insecurity, my biggest failure.

My cheeks redden.

"So as much as you loathe me, and as much as I dislike you, we're going to have to make this work," he says coolly. "Here is what will happen: You will do as you are told. Go to the events required of you. In front of my kingdom, you will act like we are happily mated, and you will play the part of a Queen. In return, I will stay away from you as much as I can, and only speak with you when absolutely necessary. If you agree to these conditions, you will be allowed to roam the castle as you wish, do as you wish as long as you act accordingly, and be relatively free. If you do not agree to these conditions, I will make sure that Blood Lake is thoroughly and completely wiped out. Starting with the white-haired one."

North. North, who was probably currently celebrating finding his mate.

An old woman enters the room, placing golden cups of tea in front of us and quickly leaving.

The Lycan King lifts the teacup. "Do we have an understanding?"

What choice did I have? I just witnessed firsthand how quick Lycans can move, how strong they are. Strong as my family may be, there were too many Lycans in this kingdom for them to be able to defeat.

"Yes," I whisper, the words burning my throat. If I was stronger, I would have been able to kill him. Kill him, and his cursed kingdom.

Burn it all to the ground.

"Drink the tea, Drakon," he orders, and raises an eyebrow.

A test, a test to see if I would follow his commands, as required in the agreement.

I drink the tea.

The victorious glint in his eyes make me want to smash the golden cup against the side of his head.

"What did you do to my Gift?" I ask, my voice hollow. I didn't know if he would answer, didn't expect him to, so I was surprised when he did.

"As I'm sure you have noticed, you don new jewelry," he replies, his tone slightly mocking. "The necklace is Charmed. It blocks your wolf and your fire."

A collar. A collar for his pet, a slave to the throne.

"Take it off," I say lowly. "I already agreed not to run."

"I will," he says slowly, and hope flashes in me before being quickly extinguished, much like my flames. "When I trust that you won't burn down this castle."

Flames burn uncomfortably under my skin, needing to be released, my rage too strong to be contained.

Like he can sense them below the surface, he says, "Exactly. Now, my Second in Command, Gregor, is the only one who knows of our mutual distain for each other and our agreement. Tell anyone else in the castle, show any signs of dissent in front of anyone else, and I pick your siblings off one by one per each indiscretion. You tell no one. Are we clear?"

"Yes." Burnt out. I am completely burnt out.

"Excellent," he says, sipping his tea. "You will begin your lessons tomorrow. Stay in your quarters for tonight. Gregor will escort you."

A clear dismissal. I stand up, and see a man with brown eyes and golden, short hair by the door, his posture straight as he stares at me with cold indifference.

I hear the Lycan King's cruel laughter as I follow Gregor out of the room, and my fists clench tightly the entire walk back to the room I woke up in.

"If you need something, I will be outside of your room for the night," Gregor says emotionlessly, and it's not so much a kind offering as it is a warning.

I slam the door in his face.

I regret it almost as soon as I turn around, feeling the blood-colored walls beginning to close on me, not a window in sight.

This is no castle.

This is a prison.

A prison I will someday burn to the ground. 

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