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I spend the rest of the day in the bedroom, where the new wardrobe awaits. Huh, that was quick. I finish unpacking my clothes in no time. After all that morning adrenaline, I have too much energy—so I do some push-ups, sit-ups, and crunches and then go outside to ask for fresh, warm water. I can’t find anyone, so I go back and lie down on the bed to read instead.

Someone would have thought they would post some guards behind the door, but apparently, they don’t think I would be stupid enough to do anything that the Rogue Alpha Prince wouldn’t like.

And they are fucking right.

Rogue Prince is not back until late afternoon when he asks me to change into a dress and takes me to dinner.

I don’t understand him at all. On one hand, he humiliates me, hunts me, and torments me in freezing water. On the other, he takes me for meals, kisses me, gives me his breakfast, warms me up with his body, and seems to spend all his free time with me.

It’s all mixed together in an unsolvable puzzle.

The dinner hall is already stuffed and loud when we enter.

We sit in the same chairs we had the day before, and I start to converse with the same brunette beauty. Rogue Prince never introduced me to anyone, so I don’t even know her name, but she seems nice.

She sits so close to him, just one empty chair apart, maybe she’s his cousin?

I notice the same pair having sex in the corner of the hall. This time, the girl is facing me, bent over some chair. She cries. I know there are a lot of kinky people in the world, but these are for sure not tears of joy.

“Is he…” I start asking in shock, and the Rogue Prince’s potential cousin steals a quick glance over her shoulder.

“She’s a packhouse whore, Luna,” she says casually as if it would make it any better.

“So what? She can still say ‘no’, right?” I look at the Rogue Prince, and he looks back at me dispassionately.

No, wait. There is a hint of some emotion on his face. Boredom. And possibly irritation.

“She can’t,” the cousin answers me patiently. “She consented to that while taking the job.”

I stop eating, trying not to look at—in my eyes—rape. I mean, you can’t possibly say that it is valid consent, right? I want to do something about it… but I know I can’t even utter a word. I feel horrible.

I always thought if I were thrown into a situation like this in some medieval-like place, I would stand tall, not lose myself, and fight for the rights of the oppressed people, especially women. But here I am, totally pushed down, trying to survive by assimilation and not even trying to fight for anyone or anything. Even my beliefs.

I’m disgusted with myself.

“Do you need my service, Alpha?” asks the cousin standing up.

“What service?” I ask automatically with curiosity.

She smiles at me, “I am a whore too, Your Highness.”

If I had not spent the last few years mostly in military camps with warriors who kept forgetting to keep their manners around a princess in sweatpants, I would blush so hard right now.

Well, at least now we know she is not his cousin.

Probably. Shit. As far as I know, with this fucked up kingdom, she still can be.

I take a sip from my wine slowly to mark my awkwardness. I’ve never drunk so much wine in my entire life as I have in the last couple of days. I start to wonder if there is an amount of alcohol large enough to intoxicate a self-healing werewolf.

“Alpha?” she asks again, so I look at him curiously.

“No, you can go.” He winks at her.

My wolf growls inside, but I’m too surprised by the random sitting that is going on here to act on my jealousy.

My father would never let anyone without a title sit so close to us. Let alone a whore. Or, in our kingdom’s case, consensual sex worker. Werewolf packs always work best with their natural hierarchy.

“So, how much do you pay them?” I try to sound casual.

“The whores? Nothing. They can live here how they want,” he says, shrugging, and he leans back on his chair.

I look at him dumbfounded, wondering if he’s just messing with me, until something lands with a thud on the table before me.

A bag full of lemons.

I lift my eyes from the lemons and see the Rogue King for the first time since our wedding. Goddess, he is intimidating, and I wish it was a lie that I am scared of him.

He casually sits in the chair in front of me, on his son’s left, but he’s not fooling anyone. He reeks of power.

“Your Majesty,” I bow my head.

“You’ve got a package from your father,” he points his chin at the lemons, and I can’t stop the smile.

I want to promise Rogue Prince that I’ll make some dessert for him since he loves lemons, but when I look at him with excitement, the sentence dies on my lips before it can come out .

He looks at the lemons with so much hatred I’m afraid they’ll catch fire.

Oh, my Goddess! He thinks it’s some kind of game on my father's side, lemons representing the memory of my true mate.

“I love lemons!” I say to show him they are just a gift for me, because they truly are. I have always loved them, but he growls so loud that even the King looks at him weirdly.

“Anyway,” Rogue King looks back at me, “He expects us at some ball in his summer residency near the neutral territory. In a week.”

“Oh, that would be my brother's twentieth birthday, your Majesty. And his house, technically. It will be huge. And lavish.”

“Great. You’ll go,” he waves his finger between me and his son.

That brings Rogue Prince's attention back from the lemons.

“Royal Ball? Kill me now.”

“You’ll go,” repeats the King, and then focuses on me again. “I can’t wait for all your pups to be big enough to fight each other until the strongest remains. All the bets after each birth, so exciting!”

I look at him blankly.

What?

Is there a way to say ‘fuck you’ in a respectful king-friendly way?

“With today’s access to various contraceptive methods, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait quite some time, your Majesty,” I say finally, the only thing that comes to my mind.

You sick fucker .

Rogue King lifts his brows at his son.

“It’s her body,” Rogue Prince shrugs his shoulders, looking at me with an amused smile. Glad one of us enjoys this fucked-up conversation .

King looks at me again, clearly not happy about my suggestion. I could swear he starts to look exactly like Rogue Prince before using his sword. But then he smiles again, and it scares me even more.

“I heard you finally pledged your loyalty to my son and no longer hold power over anyone relevant here.”

I shoot a look at the Rogue Prince. He smirks and then I notice he is not the only one listening to our conversation. I recognize at least a few officers close around. Ones I did throw out from the office with alpha command the day before. They didn’t like it. They do like what they are hearing now.

Rogue King smiles at me, looking like a cute young grandpa—while in reality—he purposely throws me bleeding into the water full of sharks.

“I was always loyal to my husband, my official alpha or not, Your Majesty,” I manage to say with a bow.

“But not to his officers, I heard? And some of them have alpha blood, you see.”

Yeah, stab me in my back; why not?

“I respect everyone here, Your Majesty, but they have to respect me back,” I say, trying not to show any weakness.

Looking at some officers' reactions, it might have been a shot to my foot.

“If you say so, my dear.” He stands up with a chuckle, grabs one of my lemons, and leaves to whatever hell he crawled from. A few guards follow him like a shadow.

Rogue Prince’s Beta walks to us instead and sits in the same chair King occupied just moments ago. He puts his feet on the table and grabs one of the roasted chicken legs.

The way he looks at me makes me uncomfortable.

“I must say, Luna, I kind of miss your military outfit. This dress covers too much.”

I expect my husband to react to this frivolous comment, but he ignores it. I try to ignore it, too.

“Hey, you,” Rogue Prince shouts at someone behind me. “Take these to my room.”

“Yes, Alpha,” some servant takes my lemons, and I start to feel so out of place without them. Like they were my last anchor to the safe world.

“So, what’s your military outfit, then?” Rogue Prince asks me.

Seriously?

“Everyone wears sweatpants and a loose top. So we can shift quickly. Can we go now? Alpha?”

Rogue Prince ignores my pleading, and Beta chuckles at my answer. It’s not over. Great.

“You omitted that the loose top of yours is a crop top. And it’s thin. So thin that I could see the shape of your hard nipples.”

I swear to Goddess, one more word from that fucker, and I will borrow my husband’s sword and cut his balls off. It does lay conveniently close between us…

“I’m sorry I own nipples,” I fail at hiding my irritation.

“What’s a crop top?” asks the prince.

Oh, Goddess, they will ruin crop tops for me, I feel it in my bones. I like them. My stomach is not completely flat since I’m not a skinny teenager anymore, but it is toned, and my waist is lean. I just always liked how I felt showing them off.

“It’s a top that is, well, cropped,” I answer, annoyed at the whole situation and the crowd of warriors that starts to circle us less and less subtly.

It makes me anxious. I’ve heard too many bad stories about these guys, and my husband doesn’t seem too eager to defend my honor.

Oh, I forgot, I don’t have any honor left after what he did to me yesterday.

“It’s cut off around the waist so you can see her bare waist and stomach.” Beta adds and stands up to reach me over the table. “You have a thin little waist, don’t you, little girl?”

I notice a small knife in his hand when It’s already too late. He cuts the front of my dress, and I jump back, knocking over my chair, only to be held down by some strong guys. The officers, I realize by the subtle alpha-blood smell that only someone high-ranked would still have—even without holding the Alpha title.

Rogue Prince stands up with his sword and looks even more bored than before.

“Don’t kill her, guys,” he says and leaves the dining hall like someone didn’t just try to expose his wife's naked body.

What is he doing? I’m his Luna, for fuck’s sake!

I don’t know what I expected from him. That he would roar that I belong only to him as if we are in one of Greg’s romance novels? I guess I won’t hear ‘Who did this to you?’ later, either.

I try to jerk all the hands off me, but no matter how strong I am, I’m also outnumbered by big, well-trained guys with sinister intentions.

“Let go of me! I’m your Luna!” I use my alpha command, but the Officers who hold me are alpha blooded themselves, and they just fight it off with ease.

They also don’t have any remorse. They’ve never had a Luna, and it’s probably not as sacred to them as it should be.

“Let’s see that little waist of yours , Luna ,” Beta says, laughing, and rounds the table to get closer to me.

“Don’t come near me!” I yell with another alpha force.

Most of the people in the dining hall stop in their trucks and even take some steps back, but that’s not enough.

All the guys that touch me—a few officers, and not so surprisingly, Beta too—have some alpha blood in them. Of course, they do. They are sons of corrupted alphas that my Father and Grandfather and all the kings before them, banished from our lands when this Kingdom was not a kingdom yet—just a bunch of true stinky rogues.

I fight and scream, scratch them with my claws, and run whenever they give me a chance. They have fun with it, and by the gasps I hear all around, it quickly becomes a good show.

Even when the compelled audience winces in pain with me, they still watch my helpless tries, not able to turn their curious eyes away.