Ruthless Alpha, and his Curvy Saint Chapter 7

Angel’s POV

"Riders approaching!"

The shout ca from the front of our miserable procession, and my heart - already so battered and broken - sohow found the strength to sink even lower.

Lord Hawkins.

He was coming.

The traders started moving quickly, suddenly concerned with appearances. The Boss barked orders, n scrambled to straighten their clothes and check their weapons. Even the horses seed to sense the shift in energy, stamping nervously.

"You." The Boss grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Stand up straight. Try to look presentable."

Presentable. I almost laughed. I was covered in dirt and dried blood, my white dress torn and filthy, my hair a matted ss. I could barely stand without swaying.

But I tried. Because another beating was worse than my pride.

Through the trees, I heard them coming through. The thunder of hooves, the clink of armor, the low rumble of masculine voices. Then they erged onto the path - at least fifteen riders, all ard, all wearing matching dark leather that marked them as Lord Hawkins n.

And at their head rode the lord himself.

I’d imagined a monster. Sothing grotesque and obviously evil.

What I got was worse.

Lord Hawkins was old - perhaps in his sixties - or sixty thousand - it was hard to tell with werewolves. They aged differently than humans, slower, more gracefully. But ti had still left its mark on him. His hair was silver-gray, pulled back in a severe tail. Deep lines carved his face, and his eyes - pale yellow, like a wolf’s - held a coldness that made my blood freeze.

But it wasn’t his appearance that terrified . It was the way he smiled.

Like he’d just been given a gift he couldn’t wait to unwrap and destroy.

"Gentlen!" He dismounted with surprising grace for soone his age. "Always a pleasure doing business with you."

"Lord Hawkins." The Boss bowed. "We received your ssage and thought we’d save you so travel ti."

"How considerate." Hawkins gaze swept over the carriage full of won, lingering on each face with disgusting hunger. Then his eyes found .

I felt it like a physical touch - invasive, violating, disgusting.

He walked toward slowly, "This is the one?"

"Yes, my lord. Just as you specified. Soft. Plenty of curves. Unspoiled."

Hawkins stopped directly in front of , so close I could sll the garlic and tobacco on his clothes. He was tall - most werewolves were - and I had to crane my neck to et his eyes.

I imdiately wished I hadn’t.

There was nothing human in that gaze. Nothing kind or rciful.

"Stand up straight," he commanded, with a thunderous voice.

I tried, but my legs were trembling so badly I could barely hold myself upright.

His hand moved so fast I didn’t see it coming.

SLAP!

The pain sent stumbling sideways, stars exploding across my vision. I tasted blood from where my teeth had cut my cheek.

"I said, stand up straight!" His voice was calm now, almost pleasant. "You’re going to be my mistress, girl. That ans you need to be toughened up. Shaped properly. Do you understand?"

I forced myself upright, blinking back tears. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... yes my lord."

"Better." He circled like I was livestock at auction, his eyes cataloging every inch of my body in a way that made my skin crawl. Then he leaned in close and inhaled deeply near my neck.

I went rigid, every instinct screaming at to run. To risk my life and make a dash for it.

"This one doesn’t have the scent of a werewolf," he observed, pulling back with a frown. He turned to the traders. "You told she’d satisfy like a she-wolf, but she’s human."

The Boss shifted nervously. "She is human, my lord, but I assure you - she has the strength of a she-wolf. And the stamina. She’ll give you pleasure just the sa, if not better. Humans are more... malleable."

Hawkins hand shot out, grabbing my chin and forcing my head up. His fingers were cold, his grip bruising. He examined my face, my neck, then lower, his gaze lingering on my chest in a way that made want to vomit.

"Soft skin," he murmured, almost to himself. His thumb traced my lower lip, and I had to fight every instinct not to bite him. "Luscious breasts. Yes... yes, she’ll do just fine."

He released and stepped back, licking his lips like he’d just tasted sothing delicious. "I’ll take imnse pleasure shaping her into exactly the kind of girl I want her to be. Breaking her down and building her back up in my image."

"Excellent choice, my lord!" The Boss was practically vibrating with relief. "Now, about the paynt..."

"Of course, of course." Hawkins gestured lazily, and one of his n rode forward carrying a heavy leather pouch. "Triple rate, as promised. Though I must say, you’ve outdone yourselves this ti."

The transaction happened quickly after that. The won in the carriage watched through the bars, their faces filled with sadness as they watched the slave traders counting their newly acquired prize.

"Put her on my horse," Hawkins ordered. "I want to feel all that softness during the ride.

Two of his n grabbed , ignoring my weak attempts to resist, and hauled up onto Hawkins massive black stallion. The lord mounted behind , his arm wrapping around my waist like an iron band.

"Try to run," he whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin, "and I’ll break both your legs and keep you in a cage. Try to fight, and I’ll make your punishnt last days. But obey..." He squeezed my ass. "Obey, and you might even learn to enjoy it."

I couldn’t respond. Could barely breathe without inhaling his foul sll.

The horse lurched forward, and we began the journey to what I could only imagine would be my personal hell, with Hawkins using every opportunity to touch . To touch his property.