Orphaned Queen Goddess

16th Birthday.

The grip on my wrist tightens as my mother drags me forward, her pace relentless. I struggle to keep up, my legs stumbling over themselves as I try to match her determined strides.

“Mum!” I cry out, tugging against her hold, desperation in my voice.

“Keep moving, Celine!” she snaps, her voice low and feral. I catch a glimpse of her hand as it morphs, the fingers elongating into claws, fur sprouting along the knuckles. Her wolf is surfacing, her strength overpowering.

“I don’t have a wolf!” I plead, my voice trembling. My chest burns as I push myself to keep up, but my body betrays me, and I collapse to the ground. She growls in frustration, her grip never faltering as she yanks me upright with ease. Her disdain cuts deeper than her claws ever could. She knows I can’t move as fast as her—knows I’m not like her. Yet here we are.

We stop abruptly in front of a tall, foreboding building, its silhouette cutting sharply against the evening sky. The structure looms, its walls made of dark, weathered stone, ivy crawling up like veins. Iron sconces line the sides, their faint flickering lights casting eerie shadows on the entrance—a massive, arched door reinforced with thick metal bands.

The door creaks open, revealing a man standing on the threshold. His eyes lock onto mine briefly before softening as they land on my mother. He pulls her into a tight embrace, his lips grazing her ear.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with affection. His lips find hers, and they share a kiss far too intimate for my liking. I shift uncomfortably, my presence clearly forgotten.

“Come in. We’ll introduce her to the boys,” he says smoothly, stepping aside to make room. My mother’s hand grips mine, dragging me into the dimly lit foyer.

The air inside is heavy, a mix of old wood, leather, and something distinctly masculine. The entrance opens into a grand hall with high, vaulted ceilings supported by dark wooden beams. A chandelier hangs above, its flickering candlelight casting shadows that dance on the polished marble floors. The walls are lined with portraits of men with piercing eyes and sharp features, their expressions cold and commanding. A spiral staircase winds upward, its bannister carved with intricate wolves running in a pack. The space is both beautiful and suffocating.

The man turns to me, extending his hand with a tight smile. “Celine, I’m Richard.” As I take his hand, a sudden flood of images rushes into my mind—him and my mother entangled in passion, their bodies moving together in ways I don’t want to imagine. I yank my hand back, my stomach twisting in disgust.

“Hi,” I mutter.

Unbothered, Richard gestures to the three figures emerging from an adjacent room. “These are my sons—Wes, Dolton, and Alex.” He steps aside and disappears down the hall with my mother, leaving me alone with them.

The brothers stare at me, their gazes intense and predatory. Their eyes glimmer unnaturally, shifting between hues of gold and silver as their wolves surface. I take a step back, my instincts screaming to run, but they advance.

“I’m Wes,” the first one says, his voice low and smooth. He reaches out, pulling me into a hug without warning. His arms are firm around me, and I feel his chest expand as he inhales deeply. His wolf growls low, and images flash in my mind—his teeth sinking into my neck, marking me as his. My stomach churns, and I push against him, my strength no match for his. After a moment, he releases me, his eyes dark with something I don’t want to name.

Before I can catch my breath, Dolton steps forward. His arms wrap around me, and I freeze as another wave of images overtakes me—his hands roaming my body, peeling away my clothes piece by piece. My cheeks burn as I shove him away, panic rising in my chest. These aren’t my thoughts—they’re his... His fantasies.

“Stop,” I whisper, but Alex is already closing in. His hands settle on my shoulders as he pulls me flush against his body. “Welcome, little sis,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my neck. His touch sends a shiver through me, and my mind is assaulted with images of him above me, my body restrained, his hand gripping my throat.

I wrench free, trembling as I back away. “Don’t touch me,” I manage, my voice shaky.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Wes’s voice cuts through the haze. He looks to his brothers, and they nod, a silent agreement passing between them.

“I can feel the bond,” Dolton says, circling me like a predator stalking prey.

“She’s ours,” Alex declares, his eyes dark and hungry.

“No!” I shout, panic lacing my voice. “You’re wrong. I’m not—”

“You’re our mate,” Wes interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact, as if my opinion doesn’t matter. My breath catches in my throat. Mate? No, that’s impossible.

“Father won’t like this,” Dolton says with a smirk, though his tone suggests he doesn’t care.

“Then we won’t tell him,” Alex replies. He steps closer, his hand wrapping around my neck, his thumb brushing against my pulse. “She’s here for us. To serve us. To be kept restrained and hidden,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

“To serve you?” My voice cracks as I stagger back, my back hitting the cold stone wall. They laugh softly, their towering forms closing in on me. The walls seem to close in, the air thick with their overwhelming presence. I shake my head, panic clawing at my chest.

I am not theirs. I am not here to serve anyone. But as their eyes glow and their wolves stir, I realize they don’t care what I think. To them, I am already claimed.

Alex’s words linger in the air like a haunting truth, heavy and undeniable. “Look back, baby. You didn’t go to school, you had no friends, you were kept inside,” he says, his voice laced with a mixture of smugness and sincerity. His gaze pierces through me, forcing me to confront a reality I’ve ignored for years.

I freeze, my mind sifting through memories. He’s right. I’ve been hidden my entire life, a shadow behind closed doors. Why? My heart pounds, a dull ache forming in my chest as the unanswered question presses harder.

“We’ll make sure you have fun, though,” Wes murmurs as he steps closer. His broad frame traps me against the cold wall. The scent of him—woodsy, dark, and intoxicating—clouds my thoughts. His nose grazes the curve of my neck, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“Her smell... Could you imagine the power she’d have if she were unleashed from the ties that hold her down?” Wes’s voice is low, almost reverent, as though I’m some rare, coveted treasure. I gasp as flashes of his lips on mine blaze through my mind, vivid and invasive.

Before I can push him away, he claims my mouth. His lips are hot, insistent, his tongue forcing its way in with a dominance that sends my body reeling. My knees weaken, a treacherous softness invading my limbs. When he pulls back, I’m left panting, my mind struggling to catch up.

“She tastes even better than she smells,” Wes says, his eyes glowing a feral purple. “I just want to devour her,” he growls, his hunger unmistakable.

Before I can catch my breath, Alex’s strong arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest. His lips crush mine, his hand tangling into my hair, holding me captive. His kiss is deeper, more consuming, as if he’s trying to claim something far more than my lips. Despite my attempts to resist, my body betrays me again, yielding in ways that make my stomach churn with shame. He steps back, his eyes flashing a silver color.

And then Dolton is there. His hands are rough and unapologetic as they pin me against the wall, his mouth capturing mine with an intensity that steals my air. His hands roam, sliding along my thighs, and before I can protest, he lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist.

I whimper, hating the sound but unable to suppress it as his body presses firmly against mine. The friction between us ignites an unbearable heat, and his groan vibrates against my lips. His hips rock against me, the deliberate movement making my stomach knot in fear and something else I refuse to acknowledge.

“Boys.”

Richard’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding. Relief floods me as I twist in Dolton’s grip, hoping for salvation. Richard’s cold eyes move between us, assessing the scene. Surely, he’ll stop this.

But then he speaks, and my blood runs cold. “Do as you want with it. Just remember the rules. Remember why this one is different, and be careful. The mask can’t slip.” His words are calculated, devoid of concern, and he doesn’t even spare me another glance before walking away.

Panic surges through me, and I thrash against Dolton’s hold. His grin widens, his eyes gleaming gold with amusement. “She sounded amazing, whining into my mouth,” he taunts. Leaning closer, he doesn’t see my head coming. I slam it forward, the crunch of cartilage followed by his grunt of pain.

Freed from his grip, I scramble away, my chest heaving as I put distance between us.

“Okay, let’s not scare her on day one,” Wes chuckles, his tone maddeningly casual. He gestures down the hall. “This way, I’ll show you to your room.”

The tension in the air clings to me like a second skin as I follow him, my legs unsteady. I’m aware of Alex and Dolton trailing behind, their presence a constant threat.

Wes opens a door and steps inside, gesturing for me to follow. My feet hesitate at the threshold as my eyes sweep over the room. It’s large, almost lavish, with a bed that dominates the space—a bed I recognize instantly from the visions. My stomach churns. I don’t want to stay here.

I open my mouth to protest, but Wes speaks first. “Someone will come by to give you a schedule and the rules. For your own safety, you can’t leave the grounds. It’s not safe for you.”

Dolton steps closer, his smirk sending a chill down my spine. “We’ll let you get settled and come by in a few days to see you.”

The three of them leave, the door clicking shut behind them. The silence that follows is deafening. My legs give out, and I collapse onto the floor, my mind spinning.

They said I’m their mate. They said I’m different. What does that mean? How do they know something about me I don’t even understand myself?

I wrap my arms around my knees, trembling. They spoke of rules and bonds, of restraint and possession. But all I feel is fear. Fear of what they want, of what I am, and of what might happen if I can’t find a way out.

21 YEARS old.

The past week has been a blur of exhaustion, a haze of moments where the brothers barely left me alone. My body aches, my spirit even more so. When I first arrived here, I had my mother. She was my anchor, my only sense of familiarity in this oppressive house. But then, she died.

Richard kept me after her death, claiming me like an object to be passed down. I stayed, not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice. I became their slave in every way that mattered. The brothers—my so-called mates. That word feels hollow, a cruel irony. Mates are supposed to be equal partners. But here, it meant ownership and control.

On my eighteenth birthday, everything changed. Each of them used my body that night, taking turns, marking me in ways I didn’t understand but couldn’t stop. It wasn’t a one-time event. It became a routine, their presence in my room as predictable as the sunrise. Some nights, only one would come. Other nights, all three would be there, their desires converging into something I couldn’t escape.

I am their mate, yet I hold no power here. The only faint, twisted benefit to this bond is that they refuse to let others touch me. They don’t tell anyone I’m their mate—no, that would imply a claim rooted in respect or pride. Instead, they ensure everyone knows I am theirs in a far darker, possessive way.

Without that bond, I wonder how much worse it could have been. Richard, their father, never cared when other men in the house leered at me, when they groped me or tried to drag me into rooms. It was always the brothers who intervened, who pulled me back from the brink of further violation. But I know why—they didn’t see me as a person to protect. I was their possession, their plaything, and they wouldn’t share.

I’m startled from my thoughts as the door creaks open. My heart sinks. I thought I was done for the day. Once they’ve used me, they rarely come back in the same night. I force myself to sit up, my body protesting every movement.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, my energy too drained to do more.

Wes steps inside, his expression different—softer, almost pained. “You’re leaving,” he says, his words catching me off guard. His eyes glimmer with something I can’t quite name—guilt, maybe. “Tomorrow, you won’t be staying here anymore. Father has decided to let you leave. He can’t find a use for you.”

My breath catches in my throat. Leaving? Could it be true? Hope flutters weakly in my chest, fragile and unfamiliar. For the first time in years, I imagine a life outside these walls, a life where I am free.

But then Alex steps forward, his hand gripping my throat. His touch sends unwanted images flashing through my mind—visions of me kneeling before him, his dominance absolute as he takes from me again and again. The vividness of it makes me sick, but I can’t stop it.

Dolton’s voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts. “We’re here to say a final goodbye—all night.”

My stomach drops. Whatever hope had dared to bloom is crushed beneath the weight of his words. I know what they mean. I’ve fought them before, struggled against their control, but it never worked. Resistance only ever prolonged the inevitable. Even now, my traitorous mind whispers that the mate bond makes this unavoidable, that it’s why my body reacts even when I hate myself for it.

So I nod. I will submit, for the first time without protest. The fight has drained from me completely, and I can see it in their eyes—their excitement, their hunger. My submission is a victory for them.

I feel a pang of sorrow as I look at them. I will miss them in a strange, twisted way. They kept me alive when their father wanted to break me. When he sought to punish me, they intervened. When he denied me food, they disobeyed him to keep me from starving. They were my tormentors, yes, but also my protectors in a world that gave me no safe harbor.

And yet, even in their protection, they never gave me a choice. They took my body as if it belonged to them, as if my resistance didn’t matter. No matter how much I fought, how much I begged, they always took.

Now, as they prepare to take again, I let the tears fall silently. Tomorrow, I might leave. But the scars they’ve left on my soul will stay with me forever.

“Will I see you again?” My voice trembles as the words leave my lips, raw with desperation. Despite everything, a part of me clings to the idea that they protected me from their father and might still shield me if I leave. If someone else tries to hurt me, surely, I can turn to them.

“NO!” Wes growls, his voice sharp and final, cutting through the hope in my chest. I don’t think, I just act. My arms reach up, wrapping around his neck, pulling him close. He stiffens, his eyes widening in shock. I never initiate touch. Not like this. I’m hoping that if I give in—if I show them I accept them—they might let me see them again. At least I’d have somewhere to go, someone to protect me if I ever felt unsafe.

“Celine?” His voice softens as he peers down at me, confusion flickering in his eyes. I reach up and kiss him, silencing the questions lingering on his lips. He groans, his strong arms pulling me tightly against him. My mind floods with images—not visions, but his thoughts. He’s picturing me touching him, undressing him, giving in completely.

My hands slide down his body, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. My fingertips graze his chest, and I feel the frantic rise and fall of his breaths. His wolf surges forward, the raw energy of it palpable. Panic flutters in my chest, but I shove it down, determined to keep going.

“Me!” Alex’s voice cuts through the moment, and I’m abruptly torn from Wes’s grasp. Alex’s hands grip my shoulders, his gaze locked onto mine, pleading. “Touch me,” he whispers. His eyes burn with longing, and my hand moves instinctively, stroking the curve of his neck. His wolf thrums beneath his skin, the sound vibrating in the air between us. My fingers tangle into his hair, and he leans forward, capturing my lips with his. His kiss is fierce, desperate, as though he’s trying to imprint himself on me.

I feel the smooth muscles of his chest beneath my hands as I pull his shirt open, exposing him further. The heat of his body is overwhelming, but before I can process anything more, I’m yanked away again.

Dolton steps forward, his piercing eyes pinning me in place. He doesn’t say a word; he doesn’t have to. His gaze speaks volumes. My hands move on their own, unbuckling his belt and pulling him closer. I kiss him, my lips trembling against his. His growl reverberates through me as I reach into his jeans, my hand brushing against his length.

He groans, his grip tightening as he slams me against the wall. “More,” he demands, his voice rough and commanding. His lips trail along my jaw, then down my neck, his teeth grazing the tender skin near my collarbone.

Before he can go further, his body is ripped away from mine, thrown across the room. I stagger, gasping for air, as Alex and Wes step protectively in front of me.

“No!” they shout in unison, their voices thunderous. “We do not bite and claim her, Dolton. You know that isn’t allowed!” Alex’s anger radiates off him as he glares at his brother. “Why would you even try?”

Dolton’s gaze shifts past them to me, and for a moment, I see pain etched across his features. His head drops, his shoulders slumping in defeat. It dawns on me how deeply he cares. Despite being the first to take me, Dolton was always the one to stay afterward, cradling me as I slept. He would sneak into my room late at night just to watch over me. Sometimes, he’d even join me in the bathroom, washing my hair with a tenderness that made me forget, if only for a moment, what he had taken from me.

He once told me he loved me, while Wes and Alex made it clear that our bond was nothing more than biology to them. Seeing Dolton’s hurt now stirs something deep inside me, a confusing mix of guilt and sorrow.

I push past Wes and Alex, walking toward Dolton. My hands cup his face, tilting his head so I can meet his eyes. “You can’t claim me,” I whisper, my voice soft, “but you can have tonight as a reminder, Dolton.” I lean forward, pressing my lips to his.

He pulls me close, his hands threading through my hair as he deepens the kiss. His lips trail down my neck, lingering as though memorizing the feel of my skin. My breath hitches as I feel someone behind me. Hands grasp the fabric of my dress, tearing it from my body. The sound of the material ripping is deafening, and the cool air against my bare skin makes me shiver.

Tears well in my eyes, not from fear but from the weight of it all. I used to fight, to refuse them at every turn. Now, I wonder if I should have embraced the moments instead of resisting. Tonight might be the last time I have with them. The thought tears at me in ways I don’t fully understand.

Dolton’s lips press against my shoulder, and I close my eyes, trying to hold onto this moment, however twisted it may be. Because tomorrow, everything will change. And I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again.