Sold by the Lycan king;Mated to seven identical Alpha kings

Ophelia's heart pounded in her chest as the cold iron chains dug into her wrists, the sound of clanking metal reverberating through the poorly lighted corridor. Pulled from her life, her world had been turned upside down in a split second. Her fate now rested with Lucian Ravenwood, the dreaded Lycan King, who forced her to leave behind all she knew. She was left with no option but to follow. Though their features were unreadable, the guards' hard hands led her through the crowds of people, their eyes expressed volumes of curiosity, scorn, and sympathy. They were all irrelevant.

Her thoughts raced trying to grasp what she had been pushed into and what had transpired. This was never her wish. She had never requested to be sold as a reward. With every step she walked towards the royal gates, she could sense the moment's weight weighing down on her chest and strangling her. There was no way out now. Just the unknowing.

Ahead, the massive gates shone with the magnificence of wealth and power. Ophelia's breath froze in her throat as the enormous iron doors creaked open. The view of the palace was too much. A reminder of Lucian's control over her destiny, it stood tall, beautiful, and scary.

One of the guards mocked, "You ought to be thankful." The Lycan King doesn't take just anybody.

Though she said nothing, Ophelia's skin prickled with terror, and her jaw was set. Though inside, every part of her screamed to run, she would not show any weakness. To avoid this outcome.

The gates closed behind her, the lastness of the deed causing her stomach to churn. There was no turning back; she was locked inside.

Looking up at the palace that would be her prison, her heart pounded. What lay inside those stone walls? Could she live through this? Would anyone even care what became of her now?

She was unaware of it. But she had no option except to discover.

Ophelia entered the magnificent palace hall and gasped in surprise. Under the gentle glow of chandeliers, the marble floors sparkled; the walls were decorated with detailed tapestries and portraits of long-dead monarchs. The palace was lovely in a chilly, austere sense. Everything about it shouted power and control. It was all Lucian's as well. Before she even saw him, she could sense the weight of his presence.

Being taken further into the palace made her pulse race faster. The silence in the air was oppressive; the sounds of far-off conversations did nothing to calm her worry. She had been here barely minutes, yet immediately she felt out of place. Every step she took seemed to amplify her solitude.

Suddenly, the shadows at the far end of the corridor moved and there he stood, Tyler Wolfe. The very man who had once held her heart in his hands, then shattered it without a second glance. The exact man who had most severely let her down.

His eyes met hers, and the rage, pain, and unresolved tension between them were nearly palpable. Though he was an Alpha King now, his posture was confident and powerful; she noticed the flicker of sadness in his gaze. Though fleeting, like a flash of lightning in the storm, it was sufficient.

"Ophelia," he spoke her name with a tone that sent a shiver down her back. Deeper, harsher, no longer the sound she recalled, his voice was. I never thought to see you again.

Ophelia sensed the draw between them, a magnetic force tempting her back to him. Though her breath caught, she calmed herself and glared at him with the same fervor. "I didn't think you'd want to see me again," she replied, her voice cutting with all the suffering of their history.

Tyler's stare relaxed, just a little, but that was all required. In the quiet that stretched between them, she could sense the burden of his silent apologies.

Her heart raced in her chest as she turned away, unable to speak anything she might come to regret.

Lucian entered the room, his presence total and powerful. The light from the chandeliers looked pale in comparison to the dark intensity of his gaze. Every inch a king, he was as magnificent as the palace itself. Powerful, and unrelenting, his broad shoulders and sharp features gave him an almost unearthly vibe. He was her new master and captor.

Lucian came closer, the edge of his gaze always on Ophelia, who struggled to maintain control. His gaze darted momentarily to Tyler; a quiet challenge exchanged between them before he concentrated completely on her.

Ophelia, Lucian's voice was icy and nearly professional. I hope you have made yourself at home.

Hearing his name on her lips made her chest constrict. She was unsure whether to weep or yell. She nodded stiffly, unable to say anything. After all, she was unsure how to approach him. After the transaction had been struck after he had so effortlessly removed her from all she had ever known.

Tyler stepped forward, jaw tight. Lucian, this is not fair. She,

Lucian raised a hand to quieten him. He never took his eyes off Ophelia's face. Tyler, she is now under my control. You no longer get to decide this.

The remarks hurt more than she was ready to admit. The knowledge that this was her new life made her heart beat. Still, she would not reveal any vulnerability. She would not allow him to shatter her again.

Tyler's gaze darted back and forth between them, his eyes waging a quiet battle. There was rage there, but also trepidation. Her concern. Fear that she was already beyond his grasp.

Ophelia squared her shoulders and faced Lucian directly, determined not to give up.

I never asked for this, she continued, her voice shaking just a little.

Lucian's lips twisted into a little smile that didn't touch his eyes. "Neither did I," he said, almost as an afterthought. He then turned to Tyler and said, "But this is the reality now. You will both have to learn to live with it.

The weight of his words seeped in and Ophelia's pulse pounded in her ears. This was no longer only about her future. This was a fight for power.

At this time, she was unsure who had authority.

Lucian Ravenwood, the Lycan King, guided Ophelia deeper into the heart of his realm, her footsteps reverberating through the chilly, marble corridors of the palace. Every inch of the room seemed to shrink around her under his commanding presence; his long, careful strides suggested he was accustomed to the world bending to his control.

"Here," he remarked, pointing to a big, imposing door with a silky smooth voice but a sharp undertone. Now starts your new existence.

Creaking, the door opened to show a sumptuous room aglow with candlelight. Dark wood bordered the walls; antique tapestries and rich leather perfume thickened the air. Though Ophelia found little comfort in it, it was a place suitable for kings. Standing as a sharp reminder of her new life, the one she hadn't chosen, the one forced upon her, the bed loomed large enough to fit several.

Lucian turned to look at her, his deep, penetrating gaze connecting with hers. The tingle down her spine was unavoidable. Though he was composed, there was something wild about him, something untamed, like a storm trapped inside a glass cage. His black hair, swept back from his face, contrasted with the almost too-perfect, too-sculpted pale skin.

Lucian said flatly, "You will remain here for the length of our arrangement." A single year. No feelings at all. No connections. Ophelia, your only responsibility is to me.

His words struck her like a punch to the stomach. He was so confident and so forceful that it seemed she had no option but to follow him. She started to object, but the words perished before they could leave her lips. What could she possibly say? She was stuck.

Do you get it? Lucian's unblinking stare awaited her response. He didn't require her consent, but he desired it, craved her obedience as though it were all that counted.

Ophelia, scarcely able to meet his gaze and gritting her teeth, replied, "I understand." At her sides, her hands balled into fists. No way. This could not be her fate. Not after all she had experienced.

Lucian grinned, albeit without any warmth in it. He moved closer, his breath warm across her ear. Okay. Rest for now. We start with all seriousness tomorrow.

Ophelia saw the door close softly but finally behind him as he turned and walked away. She was on her own. Though she couldn't weep here or now, her heart pounded in her chest. She would not let him feel fulfilled.

Her feet took her to the big window facing the dark, expansive grounds of the palace. Above her, the night sky stretched on forever; stars like pinpricks of light, so far away and untouchable.

Lucian was correct on one point: her life had only changed for all time.

But she will not give in to him. Not completely. She was unable to do so.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ophelia stared at the starry garden beyond the window. Her circumstances felt like a mountain pressing down on her chest. She was not meant to be here. Under Lucian's control, she didn't fit in this palace. Until now, she had lived a life of independence.

The weight of her history haunted her thoughts, her fingertips touched the soft fabric of her garment. Tyler Wolf. The name by itself was sufficient to send a spike of discomfort through her veins. The man who had once been everything to her, the one who had taught her to have faith in love, in trust.

She could still recall the way his touch had felt, how his hands had held her with such compassion, how his grin had once illuminated her world. But the instant he betrayed her, all of it had crumbled. Even now, the wound was new. It had never really mended.

Outside, the moonlight looked to mock her by throwing lengthy shadows over the room. The treachery had happened a year ago. A year since Tyler had left her shattered, abandoned for motives that had never been logical. The betrayal had been a stab to her heart; she had not seen it coming.

Her mind wandered back to those brief moments: the softness of his lips against hers, the warmth of his body next to hers, and her breath caught in her throat. She had given him everything she had. How naive she had been.

She heard a gentle sound in the corridor, the familiar echo of footfall as if called forth by her ideas. Her pulse raced. No, it couldn't possibly be him.

Trying to quiet the fast beat of her heart, Ophelia put her palm to her chest. She dared not let herself hope, let alone shift.

Then, just as she dreaded, the door opened with a squeak.

Ophelia

The one voice she never wanted to hear again filled her ears, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

Standing at the entrance, Tyler's tall frame threw a deep shadow over the space. His sharp blue eyes fixed on hers, and for a brief minute, it seemed as though nothing had altered. He still had that same hold over her, that same force she had never been able to resist.

Yet all had shifted.

What brings you here, then? Ophelia asked, her voice tight with feeling.

With his face softening, Tyler moved carefully ahead. I had to find you.

Stepping back as the recollections of the past threatened to overrun her, Ophelia shook her head. She would not allow him to do this to her once more. She would not allow him to twice shatter her heart.

"You shouldn't be here," she said softly, her throat tight. Not at the moment. Not ever once more.