FATED MATES: When They Touch Me

Fire Kingdom, The Realm of Red Pearl.

Jane braced herself, feeling the sting of the slap reverberate before she even heard it. Her cheek throbbed, and the bitter tang of iron touched her lips. It could have been worse—a sucker punch, maybe. With a man nearly twice her size, any hit could break bone, but the greasy, hulking brute before her seemed to savor the taunt more than the damage. She noted that with a calculated calm, eyes blazing despite the sudden pain.

“You're gonna be mine, little whore… mine.” His breath was thick, pungent with alcohol and the rank scent of stale sweat, and it filled the scant inches between them. He reached for her hair, tangling his thick fingers through the dark strands, dragging her toward the stained, threadbare couch with a brutality that left her scalp burning.

“Over my dead body,” Pearl muttered, her voice low and steady, though her skin crawled at the touch.

“Oh, a tough one, are ya?” He sneered, leaning in so close that she could see the food particles lodged in his yellowing teeth. “You got a big mouth, don't ya, you crazy bitch?” His hand moved to the zipper of his pants. Pearl closed her eyes, forcing down a gag that rose in her throat.

Disgusting. She was no stranger to dark alleys and rowdy bars, to broken fights and bruises that marked her wanderer's life. But she'd thought, naively perhaps, that she'd left the worst of this behind her. She was in Hell now—no, worse. The Fire Kingdom, where cruel men held power like cheap trinkets, and here, power wasn't a shield; it was a weapon. She forced her face into a scowl, masking her disgust. “Skip the lube, big guy. I doubt you've got anything worth feeling anyway.”

The gang around them chuckled, the fat man's face contorting in fury. “You little bitch—” he snarled, his fist rising, his wobbling bulk following as he stumbled forward, pants slipping down his massive frame.

“Got a problem with your pants?” she asked, mocking him, her lips curving despite herself. “’Cause it looks like your fists are all you've got.”

With a growl, he yanked her hair, pulling so hard she felt the burn of her own scalp stretching, the ache sharp and unrelenting. She held her breath, stifling any reaction, meeting his beady eyes with a defiant glare.

Behind him, his two henchmen stirred. One of them, tall and gangly with a face marred by red, greasy pimples, was already advancing, his lips curled in a malicious grin. His eyes were dead and cold, flickering with something predatory. “Why don't we plug all her holes?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

A deep voice sliced through the air, so powerful it silenced even the raucous gang of men.

“Don't lay a hand on her.”

Pearl's heart leapt. Her captor's face went pale, a flicker of fear edging out his smirk as he turned, struggling to pull up his pants, hiding his sudden unease. Pearl let herself grin slightly, feeling the glimmer of hope trickling in as she glanced at the man now dominating the room.

Ethan.

If the man looked out of place in this derelict corner of the Fire Kingdom, he didn't seem to notice. He stood there, a towering, muscled figure dressed impeccably in a dark, three-piece suit, his every movement radiating a lethal calm. His features were chiseled, all sharp angles and piercing eyes. His gaze was dark and steady, a simmering pool of danger and a hint of amusement, as if he were both predator and spectator. And as he took in the scene, his expression barely changed, save for the faint tightening of his jaw.

“Ethan, mate—this isn't any of your business,” the fat man stammered, fumbling with his pants. “We agreed. She'd be handed over unharmed. See any dents on her lovely body?” He gestured at Pearl, his mouth twitching into a nervous grin.

Ethan's dark eyes flickered to Pearl's face, lingering on the mark left by the slap, then trailed back to the fat man. “When I say unharmed, that means untouched. Every part of her,” he replied coldly, “is mine.”

The fat man's bravado faltered, his gaze shifting to his two lackeys, both of whom had taken a nervous step back. Pearl didn't take her eyes off Ethan, feeling a strange, heady mix of gratitude and defiance. Her pulse quickened as Ethan stepped closer, the faintest green crackle of magic dancing along his fingers.

Ethan's voice was smooth but laced with a deadly threat. “Drop the pants,” he said, his tone icy and unyielding.

Pearl almost laughed as the fat man scrambled, his bravado completely stripped away. She watched as he shrank before Ethan, a man now reduced to nothing more than a simpering shadow of himself.

Ethan closed the distance with unhurried, catlike grace, his steps soft yet deliberate. He reached out, his massive hand brushing Pearl's cheek, his thumb skimming the raw mark with a gentleness that starkly contrasted the danger radiating from him. “She belongs to me,” he said, his words a final warning, directed at the man cowering before him.

The fat man's gaze darted to Ethan's hand, the green lightning pulsing more visibly now, its electric hum filling the silence of the room. “Boss,” he stammered, “I didn't know. It was just a little pat—”

“Was it?” Ethan's lips curled into a predatory smile. He moved his hand to hover above the fat man's waistband, the lightning flickering along his fingers as if hungry. The acrid smell of singed hair filled the air as the lightning licked toward the man's exposed skin.

One of Ethan's men—a blond, scarred warrior with a glint of feral joy in his eyes—uncorked a vial of clear liquid and poured it onto the fat man's skin. The man's eyes widened in horror, his screams filling the room as the liquid burned, fueled by the green lightning sparking from Ethan's hand.

Pearl felt the grim satisfaction churning within her, mingling with a wave of bile rising at the sight of the man's pain. The gang, her captors just moments ago, now laughed as their leader crumbled before her.

“You thought you could touch her, and walk away,” Ethan said softly, leaning close, his voice dripping with venom, “without paying?”

“Please, Ethan,” the fat man squeaked, voice quivering, as his body convulsed under the pain. “I didn't know… I made a mistake.”

“There are no second chances,” Ethan replied, the green lightning in his hand intensifying, searing the man's skin.

The man howled as the lightning flared, his screams reverberating through the room, mingling with the laughter of the others. Pearl watched, breathless, feeling both horror and morbid satisfaction as Ethan's vengeance played out.

When the lightning finally flickered out, the man slumped, his face twisted in agony, his body spent. Pearl took a steadying breath, her hand brushing over the place where his slap had left its mark, forcing herself to compose. She took a step toward the door, wanting nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between herself and the scene.

She barely made it a few paces before a hand closed firmly around her wrist. She looked up, meeting Ethan's gaze—a smoldering look of both possession and challenge.

“Not so fast, princess,” he murmured, a wicked glint in his eyes.

Pearl stiffened, pulling her arm away, but his grip held firm. She met his gaze with defiance, bristling at the unspoken claim. “I don't belong to you, or anyone,” she retorted, voice sharper than she intended.

Ethan's smile deepened, his grip loosening but his gaze never wavering. “That's where you're wrong,” he replied, his tone deceptively soft, the faint green light still flickering between his fingers. “You may not realize it yet, Pearl Jane, but in this realm… everything comes at a price.”

Pearl's heart pounded as his words sank in, a mixture of fear and exhilaration making her blood hum. She knew the Fire Kingdom was no place for mercy, but this… this was something different, something far more dangerous. And as she stared into Ethan's dark, unreadable eyes, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just traded one prison for another—a prison that was far less predictable, and far more compelling.

For the first time, she felt the weight of her decision to enter the Fire Kingdom. And for the first time, she felt the fear of losing control.

The door to her freedom felt miles away, and yet, a part of her was in no rush to reach it.

Pearl Jane tried to shake his hold off her, but Ethan's hand just tightened; she winced from the pain. "It's sweet that you want to make sure I find my way home, but I'm perfectly fine, warrior. No need to go on helping me every time."

Amusement flashed in Ethan's eyes before it disappeared under a cold exterior. Something told her this man was used to looking cold over anything else.

"I'm not your saviour, little one. I'm the monster that's lurking in the dark."

"It's you!" she gasped.

"Nice meeting you, little one. You took something from me, I supposed."

She shivered.

It happened a year ago, just like she remembered it.

*****

"The banquet auction is next week, Pearl," her father, the king of the Fire Kingdom, in the realm of supernatural and magic, mumbled, his icy hands playing with a loose strand of her hair. She loathed it when he touched her. It was never the touch of a father, but that of someone who wanted something, something a father should never have. Something tattered and evil and creepy. She hated it.

Pearl's eyes searched her mother's face. She couldn't meet the eyes of her almost twenty-two-year-old daughter, the queen's gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the expensive carpet beneath her feet. "You going to say anything? Or are you okay with me being sold like some sort of magical mat in the street, mother?"

She stood beside her father, squeezing her hands, looking like the perfect little king's wife—complacent, peaceful, taking all his punches and abuse without saying a damn word.

The king stepped between them. His body brushes against Pearl's, making her feel sick to her stomach. "She does what she is told, just like you will if you know what's good for you, Pearl."

That was the problem with walled-in animals: they either get overthrown or learn to be darker and more terrifying than their captors. She was not the creature that wilted away like her mother did; she was the fighter, the one who would chew off her own limb to get the heck out and certainly out from this realm.

Over the years, Pearl had a front-row seat to her father peeling her mother's layers until only an empty shell stayed; her eyes that used to twinkle with light as they played and sang their songs started vanishing, leaving behind a chasm of tears and dismay, and surely a void of emptiness.

Don't worry, Mother. Soon he'll take you to the slaughterhouse and find himself someone new to ruin. She thought to herself.

Back straight, head held high, Pearl scowled her father down, refusing to look away from his spectacular angry stare. "I'm never going to let you sell me. You'll have to kill me first."

King Edward Jane cocked his head as if examining some bizarre and foreign species of alchemist known to this realm. Pearl guessed no one had dared challenge him before. They'd groomed her father to run the kingdom from the moment his foul, chubby face came out screaming from Pearl's grandmother's womb. He strode closer to her before bending down and murmuring, "Don't think I won't assume that, little child."

The stony smile and the icy blue gaze told her that her father wouldn't think twice about slitting the throat of his only daughter, because to him, she was a doll to be used and utilised until she broke and there was nothing left. Just an empty, broken shell, just like her mother, the kingdom's once most powerful alchemist. Now, an empty and powerless pillar of the realm.

"Yes, father, I understand," she lied. She would never understand, and tonight was when she would take the first step to getting control of her life in almost twenty-two years.

Being the daughter of one of the most infamous and powerful alchemists in the Realm of Red allowed her to have access to people and territories that the supernatural populace could never dream of. It wasn't because people, like werewolves, fae, and alchemists, like to hang out with her father and his minions; they fear the affliction that her father bids. Anxiety allows the king's name to carry way more weight than it should.

She had gotten an invitation to some even in the north, a high-class werewolf sex pub for the affluent and powerful. The Alphas, Betas, and mostly Lycan warriors, and some of the high-profile figures who visited the club were the reason that every patron had to wear a mask. A hidden identity means less of a liability.

The only reason she got an invitation, however, was because she caught Alpha Darkland, the Lycan Alpha of the North, fucking his stepdaughter. The likelihood of her spilling his dirty secret to his insane father petrified him. Darkland's family owns the high-end pub and every other sex club in the kingdom. Pearl had gotten herself into a problem with a signed pub warden. The thing said if she talked about the pub, they would kill her, the equivalent of telling her she'd be swimming with the fishes in the ocean. Pearl was not sure what they had to use against her since her only claim to prestige was being the daughter of the King.

So here she stood in front of the cast iron door that leads to the pits of hell, the dwelling of Lucifer himself. Okay, maybe not that sort of hell, but surely she got the idea. She was about to have sex with a random stranger just so she could stick it to her father and his demented plans. Or rather, her ticket to get the hell out of this realm.

The door hurled open, revealing a whole new world that seemed more depraved than the world she had already experienced, but this sort of sin was one that doesn't harm or use anyone else unless they want to be a victim.

The upper class of the supernatural brotherhood adored their kinks and needed them, but they didn't want to let the vice ruin the fraud playacting they'd created.

Famous alphas who like to wear diapers while they suck on a woman's tit, Fae leaders who like to be tied up on a cross and whipped, and distinguished warriors who have paraded around like little puppies, licking the shoes of their owner.

Pearl was about to head straight through those same cast iron doors and leave when a deep, sensual voice whispered in her ear, making her toes curl.

"You see anything you like, little one?"

Pearl tried to turn so that she could see his face. His firm hands move up to her waist, keeping her still, his touch a fiery brand on her skin. "Not yet, sweetheart. Be a good girl and stay still."

Pearl rubbed her legs together. She was like being smothered in magical fire and ignited into flames by the sandalwood-scented stranger. His voice was deep, one of those voices that could get her off by just saying hello. Damn hormones.

Get it under control, Jane.

She pushed back against him. If she was going to be a mess, then he sure as fuck would be, too. "What happens if I don't listen?"

A dark chuckle tickles her ear, the sound invading her body in ways it shouldn't. "Then sweetheart, you'll get punished."

Punished.

"Do I get to punish you back?"

He nipped at her ear lobe, which made her moan. "Normally I'd say no, but for you, I'd allow you to indulge if that's your kink."

The warmth of his lips grazes her shoulder, moving back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm. "I think you'll like the punishment my shaft, mouth, and hands will give. You won't have the energy to do much of anything else after I am done with you, little one."

Pearl tilted her head back. She had spent her whole life under the control of men, but this time she was allowing it. No one was forcing her. She didn't even know what this guy looked like, and she was already completely under his control. It was frustrating and excruciating all at once. A formidable warrior. She thought he was a Lycan. A powerful werewolf who could wield magic. Odd and refreshing, indeed.

Control. That was something she never had, and now it was all up to her... not to mention the move would piss off her father. And her ticket out of this realm.

Two birds, one stone. "What are you waiting for, Lycan?"