5
Rose
Ishrink into the dark shadows of the alley, my eyes glued to the massive men as they move past my hiding spot. They tower above everything as their gleaming eyes scan the surrounding area.
Muscular frames pull at their black uniforms as they walk. The streets are silent but for their heavy footfalls. I’m transfixed by them as they stalk down the road.
When I was younger, I never dared at peek at the wolves when they came into the city to steal away our women. I didn’t want to get caught up and mistakenly taken. Even though there’s very little for me in this life, I’m not eager to see the end of it just yet. I knew better than to have them find me.
Though, secretly part of me just didn’t want to deal with the rejection I was sure to face when even these beasts wanted nothing to do with me.
No one had to warn me to stay away from the shifters. Whether by instinct or overly-cautious street sense, I knew better than to get too close. I’d thought everyone did, but that isn’t always the case.
I’d heard the whispers in the market and the seamstress’s shop that I worked in one grueling summer. The wolves, or rather the men that shifted, were unmatched in beauty. So handsome that some of the more brazen women would titter that they wouldn’t have minded being snatched away in their younger years, had the wolves been hunting in their day.
I’d always rolled my eyes at their laughter and words, but seeing the wolf men now, with my own two eyes, I suddenly understand.
They’re nothing like the human men I’ve spent far too much of my time with. Power and strength ooze from these creatures in a way I’ve never seen before. They are every bit as beautiful and terrifying as their animal counterparts, and something about them draws me in.
With the shadows cloaking me, I move closer to get a better look at them.
I almost understand what those women were on about that summer.
Almost.
If I hadn’t experienced the cruelty of human men firsthand, I might have considered offering myself up as a lover on silver platter to these wolves, too. To willing give myself over to them to bear their heirs in exchange for protection and pleasure that no human could ever hope to give.
At the very least, I’ll admit they’re far more striking than any man I’ve ever had the misfortune of interacting with.
But I’m also no fool. I know that behind their gorgeous faces lies a wild creature with a thirst for blood and power.
There’s a reason why young women hide away or flee to other kingdoms during the season. A reason why most women would never dare stare, let alone be out at this time of night, drinking them in.
We all know they would sooner end us than take us as willing mates.
Blood flows freely when it comes to their kind. They only reason they keep us alive for any amount of time is because they need us. Beyond our ability to provide them with heirs, we mean nothing to them.
I’m abruptly reminded of this when a soft cry shatters the silence, and I watch as two of the giant guards come into sight, a woman being dragged between them.
Her dress is stained with mud, and her face wet with tears, but she doesn’t fight to free herself, knowing there’s no point to trying. Another guard walks into view behind them, hauling a brunette by her hair. Unlike the other woman, she struggles against him as she cries out in pain to escape, but he pays her no mind.
My heart breaks for them, but there’s nothing I can do. These may be their last moments in this city, and their dignity has not been spared. Soon, they’ll be even more broken, and then, if they’re lucky, dead before they’re forced to bear these beasts an heir.
I close my eyes as they pass, unwilling to look upon their faces any longer. I know I’m fortunate to have aged out, that a similar fate doesn’t await me.
Even in such desperate times, even if I were to step out before them, the wolves wouldn’t spare me a glance. At least, if past selections are anything to go by, the wolves preferred maidens, and never older than twenty and five years.
Still, just watching those women get dragged away makes my stomach twist.
I hate that we live in a place where this is nothing more than just another season. Where our men would rather step aside so that the wolves can prey on us than stand up and fight.
Opening my eyes, I watch another group of men come to a stop at the mouth of the alley. My heart skips a beat as I watch their eyes turn toward the darkness, and I press myself back into the shadows.
I have to remind myself that I’m too old, that I’m no maiden, let alone bled in recent months. These men have no business with me, I’m nearly as unsavory as a woman could get for their needs.
It takes a moment for my heartbeat to return to normal as the wolves continue to stand there, watching a tiny blonde female being pulled along by her wrists. Her face is soft, eyes wide and shining with fear. Again, I have to look away, guilt rising in my chest.
Am I no better than the men who do so little to protect us?