Alpha's Cruel Addiction

Ophelia couldn't stomach this any longer. The shrieks and sobbings were giving her a headache. She was going to faint any moment from the traumatic loss of blood around her. How many people had dropped dead by now?

Bodies littered the floor around her husband.

Women and children were spared, but for how long?

ραпdα nᴏνɐ| сom Ophelia didn't want to be around to see it. Without warning, her knees gave out. She sank to the ground with a loud thud.

"Get the lady a chair." Killorn didn't even look over his shoulder to see who it was. Only one person in his entire group would have such a weak gut.

"My lady," Gerald gruffly said whilst bringing the furniture over. When she sat limply on the ground, he grabbed her elbows and gently nudged her.

"Don't touch her," Killorn snapped.

Gerald stiffened. He had never heard their leader be this possessive. Not once. The Commander was one of the most heartless men in the world. He felt no emotion except anger, hatred, and did he mention anger? Killorn retained every negative emotion known to men.

Possessiveness was not one of them.

"Stop! Get away from me! No!" Nathan shrieked, attempting to run, but was once again forced to stay in a single spot. He was captured by three men; two holding his arms whilst another pressed his shoulders forward, forcing Nathan into a kneeling position.

"House Nileton falls tonight, Ophelia." Killorn coldly glanced over his shoulder. He saw her pale expression and the cold sweat gathering on her forehead. She was lovely even on the verge of tears.

"This I can promise you." With that said, Killorn took Nathan's fingers and snapped them back. A sickening crack filled the air.

"ARGHHH!" Nathan howled louder than wolves at a full moon.

Ophelia flinched at the disturbing sound. Nathan's crazed eyes met hers. She was paralyzed with fear. Her breathing short-circuited and came out in sharp gasps. Killorn didn't even have to look. He simply stepped to the side, blocking the man's line of sight.

"How many bottles?" Killorn chillingly asked, glowering down at the man on his knees. Fat tears welted down Nathan's pale face as he bowed his head in defeat.

"P-please—"

Killorn stabbed his sword through Nathan's knuckles. Ophelia flinched and bit on her lower lip. So many people were watching her. Nileton relatives were begging her for mercy with their eyes. Mavez men were analyzing her expression.

"T-ten… bottles."

Ophelia's throat tightened. She squeezed her hands together on her lap. She wanted to appear calm. By now, her face was twisted in a grimace. She could barely think straight.

Ophelia's veins burned with the memory of what Nathan had done. It was no wonder why she slid in and out of consciousness. He nearly drained her dry.

"Pity there isn't a hundred family members to murder." Killorn shook his head slowly. "Though, there are at least ten of you here."

Ophelia's lips trembled. She couldn't bear witness to this. And she shouldn't. But then, she thought back to what Nathan once said to her—"Mark my words, Ophelia. I will destroy you beyond repair, you vile whore."

Without warning, Ophelia staggered towards the begging man who was rendered nothing at her feet. He was a vampire, brought to his knees by a werewolf, pleading for mercy before a human girl.

"Apologize," Killorn softly warned Nathan, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't need to waste his breath shouting at scum like this. He felt Ophelia's presence.

"I'm sorry!" Nathan choked out, his eyes watery, his nose dripping, and his fingers beginning to go blue. He banged his forehead to the floor, kneeling so low, he couldn't see beyond his hands. He felt himself tremble before the human girl—an act that had never been done before.

"Who's the one doing the ruination now?" Ophelia murmured, her words causing Nathan's head to shoot up in disbelief.

Nathan stared up at her in shock and horror, realizing she had used his own words against him.

Without another glance back, Ophelia departed from the scene. Her heart was in her chest, her ears ringing, and she knew, nothing would ever be the same again.

"This way, Luna. We'll take you to the carriage."

Ophelia's mind was swirling with a plethora of emotions and her body was drained of all energy. After all, she had been starved close to death for the auction and her poor body was near to breaking.

Ophelia swiftly followed the person yet the fact they called her, 'Luna' did not register with her. She didn't even know who was speaking to her at this point. There were so many men gathered there. She tried her hardest to leave a good first impression, but could any lady fathom watching her husband kill and torture?

- - - - -ραпdα `nᴏνɐ| сom

Ophelia sat in the carriage trembling. She could hear the rustle of the leaves outside. The moon was hidden behind a thick puff of clouds. A soft sheen fell over the forest, warning trespassers to flee for their lives. She flinched every time a bird fluttered off a branch.

Her own words echoed in her ears, for her heart was a feeble thing.

After god knows how long, the carriage doors opened. By now, the sky shined a dark hue of blue. In an hour, the sun was going to peek through the clouds and the moon would be retired.

"You're awake."

Killorn climbed into the carriage. "We'll be heading out now!"  he shouted out the window before bringing his head back in.

The carriage lurched forward, causing her to tense.

Ophelia's throat tightened. She straightened, every limb in her body going rigid. Blood. It was everywhere. His sharp and handsome complexion was covered with splotches. His armor was splattered with trails of blood, but they had long dried and she was certain his black pants had some too.

Ophelia could barely watch it happen, much less, sit with the man that performed the most sinful act.

She was traumatised.

"House Nileton has been massacred and claimed by the Mavez Dukedom." Killorn crossed his ankle over his knee and rested his face upon a propped-up arm. He stared at her from head to toe, almost analyzing her for something. Then, he settled on her face. His handsome features grew rigid.

Ophelia was trembling harder than a newborn lamb learning to stand. She felt her teeth chatter, but not from the cold.

"They're alive."

Ophelia's head snapped up.

"Barely." Killorn continued to watch her reaction. How did it feel to know her attempts to run were unsuccessful? He was still suspicious of her betrothal to Neil. Jealous, even. How did it feel to watch the family of her lover slaughtered before her very eyes?

"You should've killed them."

Killorn was startled. What?

Ophelia quickly lowered her face again. She said nothing else. After a while, the carriage ride lurched forward and they began to move. She could feel his brooding stare on every inch of her skin.

Killorn might as well have undressed her with his eyes. In the darkness of the carriage, his pupils glowed with heat.

Ophelia could feel his large body radiating with power. He never stopped observing her. What was he looking at? She didn't even dare to look at him. In truth, she was confused and ashamed of herself after saying such horrid words.

Those who wish for death will die as sinners.

Ophelia was taught to be a virtuous woman and wife from birth, but it was difficult. How could her heart remain kind to people that exploited her body in and out?

"Repeat what you said." His voice was low and solemn, but she heard notes of amusement. When he talked, his sharp jaw could cut through rocks.

Suddenly, Killorn leaned forward. He reached for his wife, but she flinched backwards. Immediately, the atmosphere tensed. His presence grew darker, taking up the entirety of the carriage. He gritted his teeth, his glare on fire.

"Did they touch you?"

Obviously, they did.

Ophelia could barely breathe. Many had. Who was he referring to? Nathan? The auctioneers? The slave trainers? She couldn't imagine what he must've thought of her. She felt dirty, degraded and ashamed.

Killorn sharply exhaled through his nose. A split second passed and he opened his mouth again.

"Ophelia."

Ophelia realized her name had never sounded better from someone else's mouth—until now.

In a low and threatening voice, he uttered words that shattered her resolution. There had never been worse things to say from a man like him.

He opened his mouth. "Do you wish for a divorce?"

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