：Public Maid

Ivy’’s POV

I’ve spent every day since my father’s death in excruciating pain.

“Please!” I sob out desperately as a Thunderclaw warrior lashes a whip against my skin.

I barely register the feeling at this point, I’ve become so used to it. They’ve whipped me relentlessly every day since my wedding went so dreadfully awry. My skin is made of little pieces of cracked flesh at this point. The sticky feeling of blood coating my body is inescapable.

I feel like I’m coming undone.

And after what happened to my father, I don’t think I’d mind if they finish me off once and for all.

The Thunderclaw warrior raises the whip again, smiling evilly. Just as it’s about to hit me, a cold voice cuts through the room.

“Stop,” Erick says smoothly, striding into my dungeon cell.

I’m imprisoned in my own pack house’s dungeon. As if my humiliation could become even worse.

The warrior lowers the whip.

“Leave us,” Erick commands.

The warrior bows his head once, then leaves the dungeon.

It’s just the two of us now.

I look up at Erick with fierce loathing. This is the man who killed my father, and I’m going to make him pay for it.

“What do you want?” I snap, looking him in the eyes.

“Goodness, Ivy,” Erick says with a chuckle. “You look pathetic.”

“I can’t be anywhere near as pathetic as you,” I retort.

“Mm.” He shrugs, unbothered. Before I can say anything else, he grabs my chin roughly and jerks my head from side to side.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Erick says. From anyone else, the words would be sweet. But he’s looking at me like I’m just a plaything.

“Fuck you–” I start to bite out, but he clamps my mouth shut.

“I don’t know what it is,” Erick continues. “Your eyes. Your smile. Your face. I’m still drawn to you. I could spare you from all this pain, you know. All it would take is you becoming my mistress. Better than being beaten to death in a dungeon, no?”

Revulsion ripples along my skin. “I would rather die than let you fuck me,” I tell him in a measured voice, vitriol in ever word. “I will have my revenge for what you did to my father and to my pack. This I swear.”

Erick raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. He releases me and steps away. “We’ll see how long you last. GUARDS!”

That last shout catches me by surprise, and I jolt as a pair of warriors rush into the room, saluting their Alpha.

“Make her drink this,” Erick orders, picking up a small vial from a table.

The liquid inside is purple and shimmery. My stomach curdles.

Wolfsbane.

One of the warriors takes the vial and opens the cork, filling the air with the acrid smell of death. The other grabs my head, trying to force my jaw open, but I hold it shut. He scoffs and pinches my nose shut.

At first I don’t quite understand what he’s trying to do, but after fifteen seconds, I get it. My lungs scream desperately for air. My eyes start to water. I try to hold my breath for as long as I can, but eventually my mouth falls open, drawing in a huge, gasping breath.

And that’s when the warrior pours the wolfsbane into my mouth.

I choke and cough and shudder as searing, inescapable, utterly excruciating pain floods my body. I spit over and over again, trying to get the wolfsbane off my tongue and lips, but it’s no use. I crumple uselessly against my chains. The world starts to blur and spin. In my pain-wracked daze, I can hear Erick laughing as he strides happily out of my cell.

Little by little, I can feel my connection with my wolf start to weaken.

I roll back and forth on the ground, sweating and shaking in my misery. I’m not sure how much time passes before I hear another set of footsteps outside my cell–high heels, this time.

Veronica strides into my cell.

She looks so healthy I hate her for it. She crouches down in front of me, examining me for a long moment.

“I don’t get it,” Veronica says quietly.

“What?” I choke out.

“What he sees in you,” she replies, standing back up. “How he could still want to fuck you after everything. I heard him talking to you, you know. He doesn’t want you. Not really.”

“I don’t…” I try to speak, but my lips are parched and bloody, and all I can feel is pain. “I don’t understand.”

Veronica looks down at me with disdain. I know she’s jealous of me–she’s looked down on me since we were children. Still, it’s terrifying to see her like this now. Pathetic as I may seem now, humiliated and ruined, it’s still not enough for her.

“We’re getting married next week,” Veronica says casually, smiling cruelly. “Erick and I. You’re never going to be able to break us up. And do you know what I’m going to do to you?”

She lowers her voice to a whisper as she lets the words slip past her lips.

“I’m going to make you a public maid.”

A public maid.

My blood runs cold. I know what that means.

‘Public maid’ is a polite way of saying it.

Veronica means to make me into the Pack Whore, and every werewolf in the pack can do whatever they want to me.

：Ex’s Wedding

Ivy’s POV

I sit naked in the bathtub as the Omega maid scrubs my skin pink, staring straight ahead.

It’s Veronica and Erick’s wedding day–the day they’ve chosen to solidify my final humiliation.

The maid gives me one last scrub, hauls me out of the water, wraps me in a towel, and dabs rose oil onto my skin. Wordlessly, she drags me towards my miserable rotting mattress of a bed, where a lacy bra and skimpy miniskirt have been laid out for me.

I stare at the clothing in shock. “Where’s the rest of it?”

The maid shakes her head sadly.

My stomach plummets. The maid starts to dress me, and I struggle at first, but it’s no use. When the maid is done stuffing me into my clothes–little more than underwear, really–I look into the rusty old mirror before me. As I’m distracted by the plunging scooped neckline of the bra, the maid clamps shackles around my wrists and ankles.

Even though I’ve already lost touch with my inner wolf thanks to the wolfsbane, it’s not enough.

Veronica never misses a chance to humiliate me.

By the time I make it into the banquet hall, Veronica and Erick have already wed.

The moment I walk into the banquet hall, I smell the most wonderful scent. Almost intoxicating–as though it’s drawing me towards something.

But what?

The maid nods once to me, then shuffles off, leaving me standard near the altar.

Veronica’s gaze lands on me, and her lips twist into a wicked smile. She looks beautiful, which I hate, and the wedding dress she’s wearing looks an awful lot like the one I was supposed to wear.

I hate her.

My attention shifts to Erick seated next to her with his arm wrapped around her waist. No matter how much I hate Veronica, Erick is the object of my vengeance. I’ll see him fall by my hand, or I’ll die trying.

I think Veronica can see the loathing in my gaze, because she taps her knife against her wine glass and stands up, drawing everyone’s attention to her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have with us Ivy Bell, the daughter of the late Alpha Bradley Bell of the Obsidian pack!” She calls out.

Jeers and whistles fill the room, a mockery of applause.

“As punishment for her traitorous ways,” Veronica continues, looking at me with a cruel glint in her eyes, “Ivy will be a public maid. Anyone can taste her any time.”

My mouth falls open as the crowd erupts into thunderous applause. A hundred leering eyes slip over me, slimy with their intent. I want to protest, but I know it’s no use. I need to survive first if I want to ever avenge my father. I look up at my once-best friend’s evil face, anger and fear filling my heart.

How much more can she do to me?

Whatever aromatherapy they’ve got at this wedding seems to be helping, though. Every time I catch a hint of that wonderful, intoxicating scent, my tense nerves seem to relax a bit.

I spent the rest of the wedding reception pouring drinks. As I do, though, strange men approach me, whistling and running their hands along my body. I shudder, but don’t dare object. It makes me feel sick, though.

As I pour champagne into a slender flute, a drunk Thunderclaw werewolf walks over to me and wraps his arm around my waist, rough hands wandering over my delicate, exposed skin.

“Hey!” I protest, writhing and struggling to escape. “Don’t touch me!”

“You’re public use, aren’t you?” He murmurs in my ear. The scent of alcohol emanating from him damn almost burns.

He starts to drag me out of the hall. “Let’s go to my room, baby,” he urges.

“Let go of me!” I snap.

He laughs, slamming me roughly against the wall and leaning in to kiss me. My stomach drops, I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to dissociate from whatever’s going to happen to me, when–

“Ah!” The werewolf shrieks.

My eyes snap open just in time to see him get lifted up into the air, neck caught in a chokehold.

“You… you…” the drunk werewolf struggles to say, but he can barely make a sound.

I look up to see a tall, handsome man holding my assailant in a chokehold. The stranger is indescribably stunning–his eyes are hazel, almost gold, and shimmer with unknown depths. His hair is tousled and black. He’s dressed in a lean, elegant black suit that does his abundant musculature just about every possible favor. As he studies the guy in his grasp, his jaw is taut, and I can’t help but admire his gorgeous chiseled features.

He smells just like that wonderful scent in the wedding hall.

Who is he?

I watch, stunned silent, as the stranger tosses the drunk werewolf aside like he’s trash. He hits the floor with a sickening crunch, sliding several feet along the polished marble until he hits the wall hard. He moans silently, writhing on the floor as though his bones have been broken.

“Get lost!” The stranger commands.

My assailant struggles to his feet with great difficulty, glaring resentfully at the stranger before leaving in obvious disgrace.

I watch him go and exhale a sigh of relief. Once he’s gone, my attention returns to the stranger–my rescuer–with curiosity and caution. He’s not from my pack. I’ve never seen him before. And he has a noble aura that no member of the Thunderclaw pack could ever have. His every move exudes authority, making me want to submit.

“Thank you,” I whisper quietly.

The stranger stares at me for a long moment, then leaves without a word.

The moment he leaves, the weight of what happened crashes over me. To avoid punishment, I return to the hall. As I do, I can see the drunk werewolf talking to Veronica, who looks at me with hatred. My heart sinks.

She knows.

Soon, Veronica makes another announcement. “We’ll be selecting some of the maids to send to the Omega Auction,” she says, standing up. Her gaze locks on me. “Including the traitor and ex-Alpha’s daughter, Ivy Bell.”

The hall erupts into murmurs. Shivers arc along my skin. An auction? An Alpha-blooded she-wolf being publicly auctioned at the Omega Auction–it’s a massive humiliation for me as well as my entire pack.

“Don’t worry,” Veronica says, sauntering over to me and leaning in close. “Alpha S will like you.”

Alpha S?

Who is he?

：Becoming the Alpha’s Toy?

Ivy’s POV

“Move!” A tall, thin werewolf barks at us as he shuffles us down the aisle.

I shudder. I’m on my way to the Omega Auction with a huge group of other lowly Omegas, and I’ve never been so scared.

As we move, the other Omegas glare at me, knowing full well that if not for my actions, Veronica never would’ve sent anyone to the auction. She’s hell-bent on destroying me, and doesn’t seem to care who gets caught in the crossfire.

The thin werewolf in charge of escorting us finally stops shuffling us down the camped dirty Omega tunnels and stops in front of a short, stocky werewolf–the auction employee, I assume. With a grin that makes my blood run cold, the thin werewolf points at me.

“Our Luna wants you to take good care of her,” he says to the stocky werewolf with a knowing glance, handing him a wad of cash.

What does Veronica want to do to me?

The short werewolf nods, malice gleaming in his eyes as he takes the cash and looks me up and down.

The other Omegas are shuttled into cells to await the start of the auction, but the short werewolf grabs my arm and leads me away from the rest of them.

“We’re taking you to someone special,” he snarls to me.

“No, please!” I beg, struggling in his grasp, but he holds tight. “I haven’t done anything, it’s all Veronica, you don’t need to–”

“No choice,” he says with a grin that shows all his teeth. “We took the money. We have to do the job.”

All I can do is accept my fate numbly as he leads me to a cell not unlike the dungeon I’ve been residing in. When I see the whip, my heart sinks.

So Veronica paid them to torture me.

My once best friend is now actively trying to harm me.

The stocky werewolf grabs the whip from the wall and snaps it a few times experimentally. Every time I hear the sound, I want to scream, but I have to stay strong.

For the sake of my father, at least, if not myself.

When the stocky werewolf finally raises the whip towards me, smiling like a madman, I look him dead in the eyes.

I’m well used to the feeling of lashes against my skin by now, but even still, I cry out with every sharp strike. Soon enough, there’s blood splattering the walls. When the short werewolf is finally done with me, I collapse to the ground heavy-limbed, shuddering as silent tears slip out past my eyelids.

“Why?” I ask quietly, voice hoarse from crying.

“Don’t worry,” he says, kneeling down next to me and wiping a tear away with the calloused pad of his thumb. I jolt at the touch. He grins sadistically. “We’ll heal your wounds before the auction. We’ll make sure to sell you for a good price.”

My heart feels like he’s shattering. Once I’m able to walk more or less on my own, the short werewolf leads me to the cell block with the rest of the Omegas.

“In,” he says harshly, shoving me into a cell with one other Omega girl.

The Omega looks me up and down carefully as I enter. She’s pretty, I realize, in a soft-spoken, subtle way.

“What could you have possibly done to make him so angry?” She asks. “And how stupid are you?”

I struggle to answer, but I’m too weak to manage the words.

“I’m Elsbeth, by the way. Huh,” she says suddenly, looking at me more closely. “You’re done for.”

“Wh… why?” I ask, voice weak and barely audible.

Elsbeth smiles sadly. “You don’t have a wolf, do you?”

I shake my head ever so slightly, and even that small motion causes pain to flare up all over my body. The wolfsbane has severed my connection to my wolf entirely by now.

“An Omega without a wolf is worthless,” she explains sadly. “Usually, the auction wouldn’t even take you. But you’re very pretty, so maybe that’s why they made an exception. See, this auction specializes in providing playthings and breeding wolves for powerful Alphas. Without a wolf, though…” Elsbeth shrugs, looking at me with pity. “Well, you’ll only be a plaything. Which is just about the worst thing you can be.”

My heart sinks in despair.

“Do you know who Alpha S is?” Elsbeth asks, leaning against the wall of the cell.

I start to shake my head, then remember Veronica’s words just before she sent me off. ‘Don’t worry, Alpha S will like you,’ she’d said.

“Who is he?” I ask, dreading the answer. But I need to know, for the sake of my own survival.

“He’s a sick, twisted Alpha,” Elsbeth replies, voice heavy with hatred. She nearly spits out his name as it passes her lips. “Absolutely disgusting. He likes to buy pretty, broken she-wolves like you and play with them until they die.”

She looks me up and down one last time, and I can tell that she’s predicted my fate already.

“You are definitely his type.”