Chapter 19
The Exposure
I felt the wind on my face, the sun on my skin, as I explored the castle grounds, as I wandered through the gardens, and the courtyards, basking in my newfound freedom.
I had become a ghost, a shadow, as I slipped through the corridors, my steps light and silent. I learned the rhythms, the patterns of the pack, of the servants, of the guards.
I felt sharpened, my instincts sharpened, as I moved through the castle, observing secretly.
I watched the guards on their rounds, their movements swift and efficient, as I memorized the patrol patterns, the weak spots, and the potential escape routes.
My senses became very sensitive, hearing the servants' whispers and their gossip gathering information–pieces of a puzzle that I was beginning to assemble. A puzzle that might hold the key to my freedom.
The image of the Lycan king Gerald caught my attention from a distance. His tall, huge, and masculine physique showcased in my view like a model at a runway show. His steps were swift and heavy and his eyes blaze with fire.
I knew that the king, the Alpha, Gerald, was a cunning, dangerous enemy, a predator who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. But I still cannot get over him, even with his toxic traits.
As my resolve hardened and my determination deepened, so too did my feelings for the king, for Gerald, my captor, who I was so much obsessed with.
I watched him from afar, his body moving with deadly grace, his eyes flashing with the promise of danger, of desire.
And in my heart, I knew that I could not resist him, not fully. My emotions and my flesh betrayed me, a storm of passion and fear, an uproar that threatened to consume my whole.
I stood at a crossroads, my heart a battlefield of desire and fight, as I wrestled with my feelings and my fate.
I knew that I must escape, that I must free myself from Gerald's grasp, from his kingdom of shadows and secrets.
But I also knew that part of me did not want to leave, that part of me craved the thrill, the danger, the twisted, seductive power of the king.
My eyes flew open, my body tensing, as Jennifer's gentle touch pulled my back from the verge, from the edge of wild thoughts, as I awoke, like a sleeper awakened from a dream.
I turned to face her, my expression guilty, and ashamed, as I struggled to find the words, to explain my actions and my feelings.
Her smile widened, her eyes flashing with mischief, as she saw the source of my attention, the focus of my desires, the object of my obsession.
"Oh, Amelia," she said, her voice filled with fake surprise, as she placed a hand on my chest and pretended to be shocked by my choice, "you little minx! I had no idea you had such...tastes."
My cheeks burned, my hands tightening into fists, as I tried to control my emotions, to deny the truth that Jennifer had so deftly revealed.
Jennifer leaned closer, her voice low and conspiratorial, as she whispered, "My dear Amelia, there is no shame in desire.
"Even if it's for a man like Gerald, a man who is both your captor and your captivation."
"Love, lust, desire...they are all powerful forces, my friend, and they cannot be tamed, or controlled, or denied."
My breath caught in my throat, my heart racing, as Jennifer's words washed over me, as they caressed my soul and gave voice to my deepest, most secret thoughts.
My words tumbled out, my denial swift and vehement, as I tried to regain my composure, to reassert my control.
"I was just...admiring the warriors," I declared, my voice a low, steady whisper, as I tried to meet Jennifer's gaze, to convince her, to convince myself that it was true.
"I was once a warrior myself," I continued, my voice gaining strength, as I remembered my former life, my former self, "in my father's pack, I was fierce, proud, a loyal warrior. But fate happened,"
I said, my words hard, bitter, as I relieved the pain of my capture and my imprisonment, "I was betrayed by one of my own, sold into the hands of Gerald, the king. Because of his selfishness."
"And yet, here I am," I continued, my eyes flashing with defiance, with pride, "still alive, still standing and willing to fight."
My voice grew firm and resolute, as I told Jennifer of the day I was captured, of the battle that had raged in the woods, in the shadows.
"When Gerald's warriors came for me," I said, my eyes blazing with the memory, "I fought them tooth and nail.
"I may have been outnumbered, but I was not outmatched," I continued, a ghost of a smile touching my lips.
"They hunted me."
My voice grew cold, and bitter, as I remembered the thrill of the chase, the rush of adrenaline.
"But I was no easy quarry," I said, a fierce pride evident in my stance, in my words, "I was swift, agile, cunning, as I evaded their traps, their snares, their nets."
"And when they finally cornered me, when they surrounded me, their weapons bared, their fangs glinting in the moonlight...I fought."
"I fought like a wild thing, like a demon, like a woman possessed," at this point, my voice trembled with the intensity of my emotions as I narrated my story to Jennifer.
"I wounded them, even as they dragged and kicked me into captivity."
"They brought me before the king, before Gerald, and there I knelt."
Jennifer's voice was full of awe, of admiration, as she listened to my story, as she imagined the battle that had taken place in the darkness, in the wild.
"You are truly amazing," Jennifer said to me, her words filled with respect, with gratitude, as she reached out and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, as she sought to offer comfort, to ease the pain of my captivity.
"But I'm sorry," she continued, her voice soft, regretful, "you cannot fight with us, you cannot be a warrior in this pack."
"For you see," Jennifer continued, her gaze sorrowful, her voice laced with resignation, "in this kingdom, women are not allowed to fight, to wield weapons.
"It is not our place, to challenge men, to challenge the king, in battle." She said her words echoing the deep-rooted misconception, the discrimination, that had saturated their society, that had defined their roles.
My brow furrowed, my expression puzzled, as I considered Jennifer's words, as I wrestled with the unfamiliar, the surprising revelations, in our conversation.
"Why should it be so?" I asked, my voice a mixture of confusion and frustration, as I thought of the women I had known in my father's pack, the warriors, the hunters, the leaders, who had never been bound by such rules, such limitations.
"Because. " Jennifer continued.
"The king had decreed it so. He believes that women are fragile, delicate creatures, who need to be protected, to be controlled, to be kept in their place." She said, her voice heavy with sadness, with the weight of tradition, of culture, her words laced with sarcasm, with bitterness.
"And so he forbids us from fighting, from wielding weapons," darkness hovered through her eyes like anger, with resentment.
My hands clenched into fists, my face flushing with anger, as Jennifer's words ignited a fire within me, a fury that threatened to consume me whole.
"Why?" I asked, my voice hard, sharp, as I struggled to contain the storm of emotions that raged within me, "Why must we be relegated to the shadows, to the sidelines, when we are just as capable, just as skilled as men?
I turned on my heel, my movement swift, decisive, as I stormed out from her presence, my anger a living, breathing thing that pulsed through my veins, that fueled my movements, my thoughts.
Jennifer rushed after me, her footsteps hurried, anxious, as she called out to me, "Wait! Amelia, stop!"
But my rage was too strong, too consuming, as I swept through the corridors, as I left a trail of chaos and confusion in my departure.