The cursed King's Captive: A Mate In Disguise

Jules's POV

The camp was alive with movement. The shouts of soldiers, the smell of horses. I sat on the ground, bound to a post with leather straps, my wrists sore. I was still shaken from what he'd done earlier. I could still feel the warmth of his fingers, the coldness in my chest from how he looked at me, it had made my heart race. At that moment, the captain approached, bearing a paper sealed in black wax. The king Lucian didn't take it right away. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the captain's face, sensing something important.

"What's this?" he asked, voice low but sharp.

The captain handed him the paper, and I watched closely. Lucian broke the seal and carefully opened it, reading the contents inside. As he read, his eyes flickered over the page, moving faster now, and his jaw clenched.

The tension in the air thickened, like the camp was holding its breath.

"This is not good," the king murmured, crumpling the letter in his hand. "We're not going back. Not yet."

I tensed up, panic creeping up my spine. If we were not going back to his pack, where were we going? His presence was needed elsewhere, and I felt a bubble of dread in my chest.

Does this mean that he would let me go?

"Get ready," the king ordered his men. "We ride to Ravenstone pack. Immediately."

I didn't understand why they were going to Ravenstone. But the king's command was final. He mounted his horse with cold authority, not sparing another glance at me. His men moved quickly to prepare. I was shoved onto a horse and forced to ride along, the ropes still binding me tight.

By the time we reached Ravenstone, the sun had already set. The gates opened as if they had been expecting us. The Alpha of Ravenstone stood waiting with his guards, all dressed in polished armor. Their faces were blank, yet welcoming.

"We've been expecting your arrival, King Lucian," the Alpha Gunner with a polite bow.

King Lucian didn't respond immediately. He just gave a curt nod,

The Alpha's face was as serious as his tone. His eyes didn't soften when he spoke, and his posture was rigid, like someone who couldn't afford to waste time. It was clear that whatever business they had here, it couldn't wait.

"We will discuss matters later," the Alpha Gunner said. "But for now, rest from your journey. There will be a change of clothes waiting for you. It's a long evening ahead."

The guards gave a quick nod of recognition and gestured for me to follow. Unsure of the situation, I paused for a moment, knowing how serious this was. But I followed behind them. The guards led me through the pack mansion with huge, thick stone walls and tall spires. It wasn't just a building, it was a place of power. Gunner is a powerful Alpha and this invitation is not only for business, it is a respect for him. Everybody knows it.

We walked through tight spaces, dark and narrow hallways until we arrived at a set of rooms that felt cold and unwelcoming. The guards stood at attention by the door. The head of the guards handed me a set of fresh clothes.

"You can rest now," he explained. "Dinner will be done soon."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out the door. I stood there for what felt like a minute, focused on the door as it clicked shut behind me.

The room was small, basic, and felt uninviting. I could feel some sort of suffocating silence and thick air, as if I didn't belong there. I was less than just a person, I was included as part of the process for them to use when they saw fit.

With one last, heavy sigh, I slid into the clothing they had given me, feeling like I was falling into an inescapable part. The door creaked open and a guard entered with a food tray.

He gave me a quick glance and placed the tray on the flimsy table at the side of the bed, barely wobbling it. With the smell of stew and bread, I started to get hungry but at the same time felt it was strange and wrong to eat with everything that is weighing me down.

"You eat," the guard looked at me saying almost gently in a low tone, standing near the creaking door. "You've got a long night ahead."

I nodded my head, not sure how to respond. He was not your normal guard, the one that just threw meals through the door and left me to me. This one lingered, and would glance at me while standing there.

I lifted the spoon and took a small bite, forcing its passage past the lump in my throat. He was waiting, and I had no intention of talking to him. But his gaze was heavy and too penetrating.

"So," he said after a moment, stepping further into the room, "how are you doing?"

I glanced up at him. His face was serious, not unfriendly. Something about him unsettled me.

"I don't know. It's hard to get used to... well, being stuck here," I said, lowering my spoon.

The guard raised an eyebrow. "Stuck? You're not stuck. You are here because the King wants you here. You are safe."

"Safe?" I balked, frustration boiling over. "I feel anything but safe. I don't belong here."

He hesitated, looking carefully at me, then offered a slight nod, as if still considering the matter. "You aren't the first to feel that way. This place, this life... it changes you."

"Changes me?" I repeated, unable to suppress my anger. "I didn't ask for any of this. I don't belong to anyone."

The guard narrowed his eyes and changed his stance like he was considering his next line of dialogue. "No one chooses this life. Do you think I wanted to end up here?" His risky tone dropped an octave, as if trapped in a moment of vulnerability. "No one ends up here on purpose."

This moment hit me harder than I would have liked. He sounded like a man who was trapped, just like I was. He wasn't a monster; he was just a pawn like me in this sinister game.

But then I remembered, I didn't want to be a pawn anymore.

I put the spoon down with shaking hands and looked up at him. "Please," I said quietly. "I never chose any of this. I didn't know they were hunting that day. I'm not going to hurt anyone. I can't hurt anyone. I'm not a killer being sent to kill the king. You have to believe me."

The guard's expression softened for a quick second. "I'm not the one you need to convince," he muttered, looking down as his strange comment lingered in the air.

"Then who do I have to convince?" I asked, my voice almost a shriek. I pushed myself off the bed, ready to throw the whole room around. "Please, you have to help me. I don't belong here, I don't belong with this life. I'm not your enemy; I swear. I just want to leave."

His eyes shifted; they darted over my shoulder, and for a short moment, I actually thought he was going to say something but he didn't. He sighed and dragged his fingers through his dirty, blond hair. "You don't understand, it's not that simple."

"Please!" I nearly begged at this point. "I don't know how I got here. I don't know why they brought me...I literally don't know anything except that I want out."

He shook his head, his face looking gaunt with regret. "I can't help you, Jules," he said, leaning in like he had planned to let me in on a secret. "I can't risk it. I'm in debt to the king....it's my life he placed on the line. If I help you, it's basically still me digging my grave."

I stood in silence for a moment, my heart dropping. His words weighed me down like a boulder. "So, you are just going to leave me here?" I asked, small.

No response, and his silence spoke volumes.

"I guess I'll have to do that on my own?" I said quietly, more to myself than to him. The hopelessness in my voice struck the air hard between us.

The guard's eyes hovered over me for a split second, full of pity. "I'm sorry," he finally said quietly, turning and leaving through the door.

At that moment, the door swung open, and I turned to see King Lucian standing in the doorway. His eyes were frosty and methodical, and I felt the room compress as he looked around.

"You will do what, exactly on your own?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous, and filled with subtle menace.

My heart sped fast, panic clenching around my throat tightening; I could not breathe, I could not speak. The king had heard us.

I gulped hard, trying to steady myself. "Simply thinking aloud. I-I didn't mean anything by it," I tripped out, while hating the way my voice sounded so weak.

Lucian looked back and forth from me to the guard standing gripped in the door frame like a deer caught in a car's headlight. Lucian sucked in the corner of his mouth like he was mulling something, then narrowed his eyes at me. "Is that so?"

The atmosphere had gotten thicker, and I felt like the weight of Lucian's stare was heavy upon me. This was going to be tricky, I realized I had to play this carefully or else I would end up paying the price for my desperation.

I took a slow intentional breath, hoping my heart wasn't racing loudly enough for him to hear it. "Yes sir," I murmured, slightly trembling.

Lucian said nothing at first. His eyes roamed over me cold, assessing, like he was searching for the smallest flicker of rebellion. After a long, suffocating pause, he gave a single nod, sharp and final.

"Good. Then keep your thoughts to yourself, Jules."

He took a step closer, so close I could feel the heat of him. His voice dropped, calm but commanding.

"You will attend the celebration party tonight. With me." He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Not as a guest. As what you are my slave."

The words hit like a slap, blunt and cruel. My stomach tightened. My pride flinched.

"You'll stand beside me, silent. Nothing more. Nothing less."

He looked down at me and then back up again, with mild disgust as if he'd just seen something offensive.

"And shower again, " he said flatly. "I don't like the way you smell."

He leaned in, his nose virtually touching my cheek. "Familiar," he practically spat. "Just like something I was supposed to leave in the gutter."

I was frozen in place and fists clenched at my sides.

How did I end up here, called an assassin one day, dragged into a collar the next? And why, after all his accusations, did he want me anywhere near him?

He gave a final, dismissive glance. "Don't make me repeat myself."