TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST Chapter 5: His Deadly Reward

VALORIA WILDEROSE

I’m back in hell again, burning while being tortured as my family taunts . All of them laugh above .

Blazing whips slash against my searing flesh while chains hold down, reminding of my weakness, etching it deep within my soul and on my heart.

I cry and beg, but they never stop. No one cos to save . It never ends.

Until a bright, blinding light appears from above, engulfing .

My eyes slowly open into a dark, blurry world. The strong sll of antiseptic fills my nose with a single breath, burning my lungs.

I hear muffled chattering and shuffling, figures moving around above , tending to my wounds. It hurts so much.

Every inch of that is cut and bruised stings, and my eyes well with tears.

"Don’t kill ," I beg, dread flooding . My body is still in fight-or-flight, yet I can’t move. I’m terrified of what might happen now that I’m unable to defend myself.

"Please don’t," I plead again.

My hand stretches, reaching for anything, and the first thing within range is a hand I grasp tightly.

It holds back. Another gently pats the outer part of my hand in a soothing way that finally forces to relax and breathe.

"It’s okay, you’re safe now," a soft, gentle voice whispers, her head peeking into my line of vision.

Her voice is serene, filled with concern, and I feel myself relax further, holding tighter to her hand.

"Goddess Selene?" I ask hopefully. Is she here to rescue again, to take away from this cruel nightmare, to a place where I can finally rest?

But a fascinated, soft chuckle follows. The slight, almost mocking sound pulls the rest of the way out of my haze, and my eyes finally focus on her face.

She is beautiful—almost as radiant as the goddess—with the palest, delicate skin and deep black hair, straight as a pin, full and luscious, and perfect bluish-grey eyes.

I flinch the mont I truly see her, suddenly embarrassed. I let go of her hand and pull my entire body away. The sudden movent stabs into my side, and I tremble.

"Relax. I am not an enemy. I’m here to clean your wounds," she soothes gently, offering her hand again, asking for trust.

I don’t take it imdiately, but I do relax, settling back onto the bed, cautiously offering her my bruised hand.

Sothing about her gentle, downturned doe eyes makes believe she’s harmless—though I can’t really trust my own people-reading skills.

She takes my hand softly, applying so green ointnt from a small jar.

The instant cooling effect spreads across the sore spot, and I can’t hold back a satisfied sigh.

"Do you like it? I made it myself. I work with herbs and make dicines." She forms a small, contented smile as she talks about her craft.

The smile alone illuminates her already gorgeous, delicate features.

"W-who are you?" I ask, finding a sliver of confidence. All my fears fade, replaced with curiosity and admiration for how easily she shines.

"I am Calliope Detrios, the second high concubine who sits at His Majesty Azrael’s right hand," she explains. "I am in charge of the maids and administration in the palace."

I flinch as his na surfaces, recalling that last wicked grin—and the fact that he’d sent off to die after re seconds of eting him.

mories rush back: the gorgeous won around him, worn like accessories.

"I—I rember you. You w-were there, watching the fight," I say, specifically recalling her sitting on his lap.

Her smile fades into pity. "It was grueso."

"Yeah."

I know she ans no harm, and yet I can’t help the feelings rising in my chest.

I don’t want pity, but I’m not strong enough not to rely on it to survive—though it never works. Like the girl from the pit.

I can still feel her warm blood on my hands, see the broken sadness in her eyes as she realized she had lost, whenever I close mine.

"Do not fret, dear... Cersei is alive," Calliope consoles , as if reading my mind.

I look up in disbelief, searching for a lie, but she seems honest.

"She has been stabilized, so you don’t have to be terrified that you killed soone."

I look at her again, grateful, tears welling in my eyes.

"Thank you."

I truly am grateful. Despite my pretense, I didn’t know how I’d live with myself thinking I’d killed soone—a girl like , weak and terrified, just trying not to die.

If I hadn’t been so desperate, if I were still the sa girl I was before, I really would have died there—gone the mont I stepped into the palace.

It’s simply terrifying just thinking about it.

"Is this w-what living in the king’s court is like? Fighting to the death?" I ask, holding her gaze with seriousness.

"Not most of the ti." She deflects with a sad smile on her lips. "But the most important thing is that you’ve proven yourself worthy."

"I don’t know if that’s a good thing anymore." I crouch into a ball once she’s done rubbing her balm on my bruises, ignoring the pain in my patched-up side.

"What is your na?" She begins a new conversation to distract from my new fate.

"V-Valoria. Valoria Wilderose."

"Ah, I know a Wilderose. Your elder sister, Lyra, is a priestess-in-training, is she not? I ran into her in the temple before."

A terrible idea for a change in topic.

I flinch at her na—triggered, but I bury it instantly with a cold response.

"Yes."

Another wave of silence passes between us. I can feel her quietly thinking sothing new up, but at this point I’m exhausted.

It’s been fight after fight for so long... I just want to sleep.

I yawn, giving her a hint she takes quickly.

"Valoria... I hope we can be friends." She clasps my hand between hers, gentle and soft. I feel her warmth emanating through her friendly touch before she pats my head. "Rest now. Let your wounds heal."

She helps lay back into bed, tucking in without being asked until I’m comfortable and drowsy.

"Thank you, Calliope."

My vision begins to blur.

I hear her mumble sothing, but it’s barely legible before I pass out again from exhaustion.

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I know it’s not long enough. I’m still not accustod to peaceful sleep after millennia of torture.

I groan and toss, trying to summon more sleep, but nothing cos, and I resign myself to my fate, fluttering my eyes open.

The first thing I see are frightening blue eyes and a wicked grin that instantly set on edge.

I scream loudly, retreating away from the man on my bed—the madman who now owns —His Majesty Azrael.

"Did you sleep well?" He speaks in his deep, velvety voice that confuses my mind and body every ti I hear it.

But from his tone I can tell it’s not from a place of concern. He’s mocking .

The ga hasn’t ended.

My body is high on alert again, shaking from fear, and I make sure never to look away from him, not for a mont, terrified of what he will do next.

"I have a gift for you, to commorate your first day as my new... toy."

A gift?

Confused, I’m hesitant to believe he’s that generous—or to ask.

I know in the pit of my gut that whatever it is, it’s bad news.

Before I can tell him that I truly don’t need anything, he pulls a bloodied bag from the side of my bed, emptying the contents right onto the sheets.

And out rolls a bloodied head.

Cersei.

Her pale, lifeless eyes stare at , her lips wide and aghast, showing that her last monts were agonizing.

Her blood paints the white sheets, sinking deep into the fabric in a way that will probably never wash out.

I am speechless and breathless, trembling from fear, guarding my neck from the dread that I will be next.

Perhaps the fight wasn’t entertaining enough, or this is the part where he rips my heart out and eats it.

Rather than do any of that, he bursts into a dark, maniacal chuckle—deranged fits of it that solidify my fear of this man, this monster in front of .

He is every bit as evil as every rumor depicts him, probably more sinister.

I truly might just be screwed.