Throne of desires: my uncle, my sinful mate

PARIS POV

My knees almost gave out beneath me, but I forced myself to run, run before my scream tore through the halls, before Selene's laughter followed me like a chain around my throat and shattered me completely.

I locked myself in my room and let the grief hollow me out. I knew tears wouldn't save me, they hadn't saved my parents but I cried until the house felt like a cage pressing against my skin.

All I needed to do was return to the club and work regardless of the cost, because if I did not obey, if I even thought about saying no, Selene's punishment would bear down upon me, and her punishments were always worse than facing the humiliation of dancing under hungry eyes.

So I cleaned my face, even if it meant nothing, painted my lips the color she loved red and put on the gown that had selected for me. My heart was still bleeding, but Selene has never cared for a broken heart, just obedience, and I was too weak to battle her this evening.

When the cab arrived, I stepped inside without a word. Soon, the neon lights of the club rose in the distance, and I walked onto the stage where the music and smoke acted as my only company.

The stage stood waiting, bright and cruel, and as I climbed those steps, I thought of Mason's voice, of his words echoing in my head, "you're nothing but a fucking slut."

And still, I danced, because she owned me.

SELENE'S POV

The fire burned low, shadows crawling across the walls like hungry hands, and my daughter Morgana sat beside me, her eyes shining with that restless greed that always reminded me too much of myself.

While Lily, my most trusted hand, stood in the corner, silent as a ghost but her presence heavy in the room, and even as I tried to appear calm my hands would not still, they trembled when I poured the wine, still I held the cup as if it were nothing but water.

"Mother, what troubles you?" Morgana asked, her tone suspicious, and I knew the girl already guessed something was wrong, because Morgana always searched for cracks, always pressed her questions until she found the secret.

I set the cup down slowly, even the sound of it might break me and I forced my voice to stay steady as I said at last, "The Mad Alpha." The name tasted bitter, and I hated that even saying it made my chest tighten.

Morgana frowned, her lips curling, and she laughed too loud. "A tale to frighten pups," she scoffed. "He rules far away, what is he to us?"

But Lily's eyes flicked toward me, wide with fear, because she knew. Everyone who mattered knew. And she whispered, "He has sent word, my lady. He says the time is done. He says if you do not answer his call, he will burn this pack to the ground and take all that you hold dear."

I closed my eyes because I could see him as he was in the rumors, a man with eyes like fire, a wolf too ruthless to fear gods or kings. He was not a man of bargains. He was not a man of mercy. He was war itself.

"He comes for his debt," I said, and the words clawed at my throat. "And he does not like being owed."

Morgana's lips twisted into a smirk. "Then we shall face him," she said, foolish and proud.

"Foolish girl," I snapped, sharper than I meant to, but she had to hear me. "The Mad Alpha cannot be faced. He cannot be charmed. He cannot be tricked. If he wants his payment, he will rip it from us with his teeth."

The room went quiet, only the fire crackling, and Morgana's chatter, her little games, began to scrape at my ears. She was not ready for what I needed to say. Her hunger for power made her blind, and blindness now was death.

"Leave us, Morgana," I said firmly. "I must speak with Lily alone."

She frowned, ruining her lovely face into hard lines, but she complied on her way out, and when the door clicked shut the air became even thicker. Only Lily was left, and of everyone in this damned place she was the only person I trusted with the truth.

Lily stepped forward, voice trembling with fear. "My lady, he asked for your daughter in exchange for time. But you know what they say, once your time is up, and he takes someone you love, they never come back. If he claims her, it will be the end."

At the mention of his demand my chest tightened. He had asked not for gold, not for land, not for silver, but for flesh. For a daughter. For blood that would buy me time.

And I smiled, a thin cruel thing, even when my heart raced, because I had already made my choice. "Not Morgana," I said. "Never Morgana. Paris will go."

Lily's gasp was sharp, her eyes wide with shock. "Paris? Your stepdaughter? My lady, if the pack learns..."

"They will learn nothing," I cut her off.

 "We will tell her she is to perform for a guest. We will pack her things as if she is traveling for a dance. She will step into the carriage car, and she will not know the truth until it is far too late."

Lily shook her head, trembling. "But once he takes her, he will not give her back. You know the Mad Alpha's ways. He does not return what he claims."

"Good," I said, rising to my feet, my heels striking the floor with purpose even as my heart twisted inside me. "Then the debt will be paid, and Morgana will remain untouched. Better to lose what is not mine than to see this house burn. Better Paris than us all."

For a moment, silence stretched between us, broken only by the fire. Lily's eyes filled with pity, even while she tried to hide it, but pity was useless to me now. What mattered was survival.

I lifted my chin and forced the tremor in my hands to still. "At dawn we leave for his stronghold. The Mad Alpha has summoned us, and if we do not go, he will come here with fire. I will not watch this pack crumble because of a girl who was never truly mine."

Inside, fear bit at me, because I knew what it meant to walk into the Mad Alpha's den. I knew he was not a man to bargain, not a man to share, not a man to forgive. But I would gamble everything, even Paris's life, because survival was all that mattered, and I had not clawed my way this far just to be devoured now.

PARIS POV

The morning came too quickly, still dark outside, and I had not slept, my eyes swollen with tears that had burned all night, and when the door burst open without a knock I flinched so deeply I thought my heart would leap from my chest, because Selene did not come into rooms softly, she was a storm, and today was no different.

She walked in, dragging her silk robes along the floor, her face already decorated with that cold smile that never reached her eyes, and before I could sit up, she spoke to me as if the night had not ruined me, like my heart had not been ripped in two.

"Get up," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the air. "We are leaving. You are to perform for someone important, and I will not have you looking like a weeping child."

My lips parted, my voice trembling because I still could not stop thinking of Mason's betrayal. "Perform for who?" I asked, but she only looked at me with that smile that always meant she was hiding something, and she waved my words away like they were nothing at all.

"Do not question me," she said, her tone final. She moved to the table, dipped a cloth into the basin, and pressed it into my hand. "Warm water on your eyes. Press it down until the swelling fades. No one must see you like this, no one must know you have been crying. You are meant to shine, not to look broken."

Her hand came to rest on my shoulder, and she bent close enough that I could feel her breath against my cheek. "And as for Mason," she whispered like poison seeping into me, "he was not meant for you. If he were, he would not have cheated, he would not have betrayed you. Take it as a sign, child. Some men are not worth the chains we wrap around them."

I turned my face up to her, my voice shaking but sharp with the one question that would not leave me. "He's not meant for me, or you made him cheat?"

For a moment her eyes glittered with amusement, and then she smiled, that same smile she wore when she watched me suffer. "He would not have been there in that room with me if he did not want to," she said simply. "He chose it. That is the truth."

Her words sank into me like knives, and I wanted to scream, I wanted to claw the truth out of her, I could only sit there with the cloth pressed against my burning eyes while she turned and moved toward the door.

"Now, dear," she said without even looking back, "pack your bags. We have a journey ahead of us."