Chapter 12: Ceremony of Teeth and Tears
The scent of their joining still hung heavy in the air, a musk of sweat and sex, when Andre’s fingers found the raised edges of the fresh bite mark on his shoulder. Draven watched him from where he lounged naked against the blood-red silk, his emerald eyes tracking the tremor in Andre’s touch. “Show me how a claiming ceremony works,” Andre demanded, his voice roughened from screaming. “I want to know exactly what you’ll do to me when all those wolves are watching.”
Draven’s growl vibrated through the mattress as he moved, a blur of controlled power. He flipped Andre onto his stomach with effortless force, the sheets cool against his heated skin. “First,” Draven snarled, spreading Andre’s still-sensitive cheeks with cruel precision, his thumbs digging into the muscle, “I show them how my Soulbound is needy for me.” He leaned down, his breath hot, and licked a broad, wet stripe from his balls to his twitching hole.
Andre gasped, his fingers clutching the silk. Draven’s tongue circled his entrance, probing insistently before pushing inside, making Andre shudder. “They’ll see you dripping for me,” Draven muttered against his skin, his tongue fucking into him with shallow, filthy thrusts. “They’ll smell your desire like cheap perfume.” He pulled back, his hand coming down in a sharp smack on Andre’s ass. “Then I’ll make you beg for it in front of them.”
“Then I’ll make you beg for it in front of them.”
Draven pulled back, leaving Andre exposed and shuddering. He traced a single calloused finger in a slow, taunting circle around Andre’s quivering hole, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. “They’ll watch this,” Draven whispered, his voice a dark promise against Andre’s skin, “this perfect, hungry little hole of yours, weeping and clenching around nothing.”
He pressed a series of light, dismissive kisses to the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, each one a torment. Andre whined, pushing his hips back, a silent plea for more. “Not yet,” Draven chided, his breath hot. “You need to learn patience in front of an audience.”
Then he dipped his head lower, taking one of Andre’s balls into his mouth with a wet, sucking pull. He swirled his tongue around the tight sac, lavishing it with obscene, noisy attention. The sound was blatantly filthy, a loud, wet slurping that made Andre bury his face in the pillow. Draven switched to the other, his mouth making a vulgar, loving feast of him, his tongue tracing every sensitive ridge.
“They’ll hear how much you love this,” Draven growled, releasing him with a pop. Andre’s entire body was taut, his cock dripping onto the sheets beneath him. “Your hole is still gaping for me, isn’t it?” Andre could only nod, a ragged moan his confession. “It aches,” he managed to grit out. Draven smiled a predator’s smile. “Good.”
“Good.” Draven’s hand came down again, a stinging slap that painted a fresh heat across Andre’s skin. He leaned close, his lips brushing Andre’s ear as his fingers kept his cheeks spread wide. “Then I’ll address the crowd and bring attention to how needy and greedy my mate’s hole is.” Andre shuddered, a choked sound escaping him as Draven’s spit landed warm and wet directly on his exposed entrance. “I’ll smack it like this,” Draven hissed, delivering another sharp crack that made Andre jump, “spit in it like this.”
He did it again, the fluid trailing down Andre’s trembling cleft. “And I’ll turn you so everyone can see that clenching chocolate anus,” Draven growled, swiping his tongue through the wetness in one long, possessive lick, “that their Alpha is so enamored by.” He nipped the swell of Andre’s ass, his voice dropping to a whisper only they could hear. “Because I know your secret, Andre.”
Andre whimpered into the silk, his own traitorous body arching back for more. “You want them to witness my cum pouring from your abused hole,” Draven continued, his words a dark caress. “You need them to know who you belong to—just as I will take pride in showing off what they can never have: you.”
His hands tightened on Andre’s hips, his grip absolute. “Then for my final act,” Draven murmured, lifting Andre’s hips with brute strength, “I’ll spear you.” He drove his cock into Andre’s spit-slicked entrance in one brutal, unbroken motion, the filthy, wet sound echoing around them. Andre screamed, the stretch a breathtaking burn. “And you cum in rivers when you’re humiliated,” Draven finished, his thrusts setting a relentless, claiming pace. The truth of it, the horrifying thrill, clicked inside Andre’s soul like a final lock.
The truth of it, the horrifying thrill, clicked inside Andre’s soul like a final lock. He arched wildly, impaling himself deeper on the brutal stretch as a violent tremor seized his muscles. A raw, punched-out sound tore from his throat. “Fuck, Draven, now—I can’t—”
“Hold it,” Draven commanded, his own control fraying, grinding deep within him. The command was absurd, impossible, a delicious cruelty that pushed Andre closer to the edge. Draven talked with clenched teeth, his cock had never been this hard.
“I know something that they don’t, Andre. You cum so fucking much when you’re humiliated,” he snarled, his voice a guttural rasp against Andre’s sweat-slicked shoulder. “Luckily for you, I love that shit.” He pulled Andre up so his back was flush against his chest, turning his head and forcing Andre’s mouth to his. Draven’s tongue invaded in the same relentless tandem as his hips, a filthy, claiming rhythm that stole Andre’s breath.
“This is what they’ll see,” Draven panted, his breaths sawing through the kiss, his eyes slightly rolling back as he spoke. “Two lovers fucking so raw it’s animalistic, and they’ll admire it, respect it because it appeals to their inner beast, and mostly they’ll see how it appeals to their Alpha King. And for that moment in time, they’ll see a vulnerable version of me as I get so lost in the pleasure that you have given me, Andre, that they’ll have to respect it, accept you as mine.” He drove into him with a deep, shuddering thrust, the thick root of his cock stretching Andre impossibly wide. “And, Andre, I fucking-love you too.”
Draven finished, his thrusts setting a relentless, claiming pace that shattered Andre’s final restraint. Their unified, screaming from a release so powerful it felt like a beacon igniting between them, a brilliant, silent detonation that locked their souls in place. Draven kissed him, long and deep and consuming, until the convulsions subsided and their frantic hearts began to calm. Andre slumped against him, spent and humming with satiated power, and he couldn’t wait to do that again.
Andre slumped against him, spent and humming with satiated power, and he couldn’t wait to do that again. Draven’s hands, moments ago brutal, now gentled, stroking the sweat from his spine. He kissed the crown of Andre’s head before shifting away, his own breathing gradually slowing.
“Come,” Draven said, his voice a rough rasp as he stood, pulling Andre up with him. He guided Andre’s trembling legs toward the opulent adjoining bath, where steam already rose from the filling tub. The scent of cedar and bergamot filled the air, a clean contrast to their sweat-slicked skin.
Draven stepped in first, the water sloshing, then pulled Andre down to sit between his spread thighs. The hot water was a shock, then a balm, enveloping his sore muscles. They sat in silence for a long moment, Draven’s arms loose around Andre’s waist, his chin resting on his shoulder.
“We find Silvanus at the new moon,” Draven finally murmured, his lips against Andre’s damp skin. “His power will be lowest then.” Andre nodded, leaning back into the solid warmth of his mate. He traced the scars on Draven’s forearm beneath the water, his mind churning with darker questions.
“Where is the previous Alpha, your father?” Andre asked quietly, breaking the silence. “And what happened to your mother?” Draven’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly behind him. The water around them seemed to grow cooler.
“He wasn’t a good mate, or father, or leader,” Draven said, his voice flat and distant. “He abused his power, similar to Lisle, but he was… much worse.” He drew a breath, his chest expanding against Andre’s back. “The day I challenged him and won, I thought it would make me feel whole.”
His arms tightened around Andre’s middle, a convulsive, almost desperate hug as if trying to shake a memory loose. “But some wounds are more than skin deep.” Suddenly, the steamy air ripped apart.
Andre was dragged into a vision.
A large man kicked a bedroom door inward, splintering the wood. A pup, no older than seven, cowered under a bed, trembling violently with fear. Rough hands reached under, grabbing small ankles, and dragged the boy out across the rough planks.
“You want to be a man?” the man’s voice snarled, liquor-thick and vicious. “Then you’ll take cock like your mother.”
Andre jerked back to the present, gasping for air in the bathwater. He didn’t have to ask who the pup was. Behind him, Draven had gone still, like stone.
“Draven,” Andre breathed, the whisper barely audible over the drip of water. “I’m so sorry.” Draven’s arms fell away from him abruptly.
“The past is irrelevant now,” Draven stated, his tone hollow and final. He stood up, water cascading from his body, and stepped out of the bath without another word. Andre listened, frozen, as his mate dressed quickly in the other room.
The soft sounds of fabric whispered through the silence. Then the heavy door opened and clicked shut with a definitive sound. Andre was left alone in the cooling water, the echo of a child’s terror clinging to the steam.
Andre finally got out of the tub and got dressed, the castle’s silence a heavy cloak. He was sad about his own upbringing, but his mate’s had been so much darker. His heart ached for Draven, the vision of those terrified young eyes forever engraved in his mind. That’s why he had likely reacted that way when they first met and those pups were missing.
They reminded him of himself. Andre shook his head, pulling on simple trousers and a tunic. He would give him time to calm down before he tried to channel their tether and find him. The bond hummed in his chest, a live wire of shared pain and fierce protection. Andre left the room to take a tour in the meantime, the cold stone hallways a welcome distraction from the heat in his veins.
His bare feet were silent on the worn stones. He wandered without purpose, his fingers trailing along the rough-hewn walls. Flickering sconces cast long, dancing shadows that seemed to watch him pass. He turned a corner and found a long gallery lined with tall, leaded windows. Moonlight streamed in, painting silver streaks on the floor. He paused before one window, looking out at the dark, sprawling forest beyond the castle walls.
A deep pull in his gut, that new, instinctual tether, twanged softly. It felt like a submerged thread tugging him toward the east wing. He followed the sensation, his own curiosity a guide. The hallway grew narrower, the air cooler. He pushed open a heavy, unadorned door at the very end. The room beyond was not a royal chamber, but a sparse, circular tower room. A single, high slit of a window let in a thin blade of moonlight. In the center of the room, on the bare stone floor, sat Draven.
He was shirtless, knees drawn to his chest, head bowed. The moon cut across the scars on his back—old, cruel stripes that spoke of a whip, not a claw. Andre’s breath caught. He didn’t speak, just leaned against the doorframe, watching the powerful Alpha King look so utterly like that boy under the bed. Draven’s voice, when it came, was raw and shattered the quiet. “You shouldn’t see this.”
“I see you,” Andre said softly, the words hanging in the cold air between them.
The moonlight etched the fresh tracks cutting through the grime on Draven’s cheeks. “I see you,” Andre said softly, the words hanging in the cold air between them. He took a slow step inside, the stone leaching cold through his thin trousers. Draven didn’t look up. Andre turned, his own throat tight, and placed a hand on the heavy door to pull it shut behind him. He couldn’t stay where he wasn’t welcome.
“P-please.” The word was a shattered thing, hoarse and wet. It stopped Andre cold. He glanced back. Draven still hadn’t moved, his face hidden, but his shoulders were shaking. “Please don’t leave.” Andre’s breath caught. He let the door settle back into its frame. “I want you to…I need you to know, Andre,” Draven whispered, each syllable a struggle from a raw throat. Without a word, Andre went and sat on the moonlit floor across from him, leaving a space of cold stone between them.
He waited.
“Okay,” Andre whispered. He walked to sit across from Draven on the moonlit floor, sitting in silence until Draven spoke.The air smelled of dust and cold stone. A minute passed, maybe five. A tremor ran through Draven’s hands where they gripped his own shins. He lifted his head, finally, and the moonlight caught the wreckage in his emerald eyes.
He lifted his head, finally, and the moonlight caught the wreckage in his emerald eyes.
Draven started, “My mother made my father what he was, or just made him be more comfortable with himself.” His voice was scraped raw. “She enjoyed watching it, especially when I cried.” Andre’s blood ran cold. “If I wasn’t loud enough, she’d egg him on to get me to cry louder.” Draven’s breath hitched, a fractured sound in the silent tower. “She got off on it. They were cruel beyond words.”
Andre knew that particular shade of cruelty, personal and patient. He evened his breathing so Draven would feel comfortable to continue. He didn’t want him to be worried about him, not now. The silence stretched, thick and waiting. Draven stared at the stone between them as if it held the past.
Draven stared at the stone between them as if it held the past. "What else?" Andre asked, the quiet words a gentle pressure in the cold air. "In public," Draven began, a hollow laugh escaping him, "they were regal. She'd place a loving hand on my shoulder during feasts." His fingers dug into his own knees. "In private, that same hand would hold me down." He lifted his gaze, the green in his eyes dim. "He liked to use her favorite hairbrush. Said it made the welts neat. She also held me down so that he could use me how he wanted. She would make me hold myself open after he was done, she wanted to see it. But then he started coming to me on his own, I remember their argument."
A phantom chill slithered down Draven's back as his voice dropped to a thready whisper.
"I'd pretend to be asleep."
Andre remembered Draven casually stalking around the cave on the night they claimed each other. He approached the claim cautiously, giving Andre time to assess, making sure to not overwhelm or hurt him by pushing in. He guarded Andre when he was vulnerable after the fall. Did that stem from the way his father didn't give him a chance to settle? Andre jolted forward, a tremor seizing him as his power yanked him into a jagged vision without warning. He heard the past directly.
"You think that thing on your little body could handle my most basic demands? Wondering if I could fuck you better now because you act like an Alpha? Then act like one. You should have fought back before you lost your options." A drunken breath, pure smug confidence.
"Unfortunately for you boy, night and nighttime are my best times. Look what you've done here. It's making a mess on your chest and cum trickling from your—ah—" Two older souls communing an old tale, then yelling while the pup cried in the mind of his body to forget. They physically fought each other in the corridor over the vicious pleasure one earned off him. Mother asserted her ultimatum in pure wicked delight.
Andre tore free from the vision with a ragged gasp, the phantom taste of blood and cheap liquor coating his tongue. Draven was already moving, a silent storm of anguish and fury, crossing the cold stone between them in two strides. His hands, trembling with a violence barely contained, framed Andre’s face, his thumbs pressing into the hinge of his jaw. “You saw,” Draven stated, the words not a question but a raw accusation against the darkness that had shown itself.
“You saw,” Draven stated, the words not a question but a raw accusation against the darkness that had shown itself. Andre’s vision swam with the phantom images of cruelty, the echoes of a child’s helpless terror. What happened to them, Andre asked, his contained fury hidden under the surface like a beacon to his mate’s soul.
Draven smiled then, a slow, terrible baring of teeth in the thin moonlight. “I waited until my first shift,” he whispered, his hands still cradling Andre’s face like something precious. “The night my claws came in, I visited their chambers.” He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over Andre’s lips. “I made sure they were awake for every second of it.”
The smile vanished, replaced by a hollow, haunted look that cut deeper than any fury. “It solved nothing,” he murmured, his thumbs stroking Andre’s cheekbones. “The silence afterwards was worse.” I became alpha afterwards. Kael and Bernadine helped me. I learned the type of Alpha I never wanted to become.