Dinner drifted by in silence. Inayah ate but could not taste the food on her tongue. Each movement was monotonous, automatic -- the rise of her fork, the clink of her knife, she did not sip her wine for it resembled Mathilde’s blood which had soaked her front and part of the table cloth.

The clatter of Salem’s utensils drew her attention back to him. She stared, pale as candle wax, and unmoving. Salem sipped his wine tentatively, seeking her eyes in the process. “I wish to apologize over my past behaviour and all that I had done to harm you.” 

Inayah remained silent. 

“I know I haven’t been the best caregiver, nor master,” he paused, “nor lover. But I have tried Inayah.” On cue, his gaze slid to Mathilde’s motionless body still strung on the seat, “It was my fault for not acting earlier and assuming the relationship between both of you had been anything but malicious and for that, I apologize.”

Inayah started then blinked, her gaze dropping to the plate before her. What was she meant to tell him? She thumbed the silver knife absentmindedly as the words left her mouth dryly; “It’s fine,” she licked her bottom lip, “I apologize for going against your will…”

Salem remained mute, raising an expectant eyebrow. 

The gesture, though subtle, sparked something sullen in her. It made her doubt his own apologetic words and wondered if this was simply a way of luring her back into his arms; “I apologize for sleeping with your brother.”

Salem hummed with a pleasant smile curling at his mouth, “All is forgiven.” 

She pushed her dinner roll aside, unable to complete the meal and played with the food idly. 

“I would like you to be mine, Inayah.”

His sudden words had her heart stuttering to a halt. She gripped the fork to still the tremors of her hands and though he was regarding her, she found it painfully hard to look at him. 

Salem was rising then, slowly drifting toward where she sat and she tensed up, muscles along her shoulders and back bunching into a coil. He crouched low by her side and slowly held her chin, turning her face to his.

She struggled to meet his gaze, faltering at the sight of open honesty, a burning sort of vulnerability that only coiled her gut. Her fingers curled around the knife fearfully, he did not see.

“Be mine and you will no longer be a slave, I will make you the head of this mansion and all that is mine will be yours.” Something hot struck her heart as his hand cupped her cheek, pulling her face closer to his. The intensity of his stare mixed with the alcoholic warmth of his breath that fanned her mouth was all too much. 

Inayah’s mouth grew bone dry. 

“Mathilde is gone,” he started, “Kade will not be returning-”

“Lycus-”

Salem paused, something dark flashing across his eyes. She began to withdraw, suddenly afraid, when he sighed and cupped her face. “I will release him.”

Something close to relief and nerves rolled in her stomach, “You will?” She asked lightly, not willing to show just how much that simple statement affected her. 

Salem nodded, “But on condition that you will be mine, forever.”

A slave. She realized then, she would still always be his slave. Just with better food and clothes, but all the same beneath him and without freedom. Salem shifted and she heard the soft jingling of keys latched around his belt, as he drew in closer to her face, lips a hair's breadth away. “What do you say, Inayah? Be mine and I will treat you like a queen.”

A slave queen.

But Lycus-

Inayah shut her eyes as a familiar burning sensation spread behind her eyes. She did not speak but the reply was in the silence that drifted between. Salem was leaning in then, his lips slanting over hers in a heartbeat. 

The kiss was unresponsive at first on her part, and she realized a moment that she had to make it work. Inayah began to kiss him back, hyper-aware of his hands which skimmed down her neck then sides as he shifted her in the seat to face him. She felt his tongue probing at her bottom lip, slipping past and tangling with her own. She was panting, hand curling around the knife at the last minutes as his own large hands gripped her waist and with ease, he began to rise, pulling her up with him.

Reflexively, Inayah’s legs locked around his waist, hands gripping his neck frightfully. She struggled to concentrate on giving, conscious of his palm which rested on her bottom, squeezing indulgently, inadvertently pressing her pelvis flush against his own. Salem moaned against her mouth. 

She opened her eyes briefly as they stepped into his, mindlessly kicking the door shut with his foot, Salem guided them to the bed. Seconds later, she felt the soft mattress sink with a sigh between them. 

“Master-” Inayah began as he moved from her lips and towards her neck, feverish lips pressing against her skin. His palms skimmed her knees, holding them possessively before spreading her core to him. Jolts of electricity ribboned down Inayah’s spine as she felt his manhood grind against hers.

"Salem." He growled against her neck, gripping her hips tighter as his hips flatten against her own. She gasped again and he growled, hips grinding against hers, the texture of his leather pants to her core sending her mind towards oblivion.

The keys looped around his belt jingle in time to the thrust of his hips.

Inayah felt herself rise then, a certain pressure building in her core and she grit her teeth, inching her hand towards the knife that lay by her side, away from his vision.

“Inayah,” Salem moaned, raising his face to hers, he falters at the sight of something in her expression. And when he does notice, it is too late.

The knife sweeps towards his cheek, burrowing through the flesh.

Salem grows still, paralyzed eyes watching her. His lips are slightly parted, allowing her sight of the glimmering knife now embedded in his mouth.

Inayah reels back and stabs his throat. She does not stop, aiming for the eye knowing blindness would give her a headstart. The man lets out a deafening roar as he rolls off of her. Her body shudders along with the bed.

Desperately she rises and reaches for his belt, fumbling with the keys. They slip from her trembling hands as he rolls away with a roar of anger. Inayah grips his waist and hurriedly works the keys free. A sob of relief nearly breaks through her as she dashes out of the room and down the hallway. 

“Inayah!” 

Her steps move in a blur of adrenaline, blood pumping in her ears. Inayah winds past numerous turns and down a flight of steps, she works the keys in her hand, finding the first one and slipping it into the keyhole.

Ignoring the darkness, Inayah rushed down the steps, tripping on the final step and landing hard on her front, chin slamming against concrete. 

“Inayah?” Lycus’ voice echoes from the end of the hall as she blinks back stars of pain. “Inayah-”

“Lycus!” She pushed herself up and made for his cell, working the keys in her trembling hands. Her gaze remains on her sweaty palms, “fuck,” she curses as the keys slip to the floor.

The figure shifts from the shadows and towards her, “Inayah-”

“I’m getting you out.” She manages as her throat expands in fear, “Just… just give me a second…”

Deafening silence falls. 

“Where is he?” 

Inayah wanted to cry in frustration as the wrong key slipped into the hole. She tried another and then another and then another, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Just as she wanted to kick the cell, a hand slipped past the bar and held her wrist. Inayah studied the familiar warm hand for a moment, watching as he slipped the key past her hand and found the right one before handing it to her.

“Try this one.” Lycus spoke amusedly.

Despite the nerve wracking situation, her face heated. “I was getting there.”

“I’m sure you were.”

Clearing her throat, Inayah inserted the key and turned it. A satisfied click. She stepped into the cell, conscious of the reeking stench of urine, sweat and blood. Ignoring it, she began to work the shackles off his wrists and ankles.

“Where is he?” 

“Upstairs.” She muttered, crouching low to unlock his ankles.

“What did you do?”

Inayah sucked her tongue while unclasping his wrists at last, “I stabbed-” her words are cut short as those hands embrace her face and seconds later, his mouth is on hers. The kiss is brief yet lasting. She does not respond for he pulls back and whispers against her mouth; “Wait for me outside.”

And then he was gone. 

Inayah stared after his retreating figure, the broad curve of his shoulders marking with scars. As he ascended the steps, Lycus cracked his neck sideways, then hunched forward as fur began to sprout from his skin. 

Blinking out of her reverie, Inayah ran after him then took the opposite direction, flinching at the sound of heavy thuds a floor above her. Like the silent pounding of meat. The pounding of paws as they rushed towards their opponent.

Then she hears it; bone chilling, raw, ethereal. A roar unlike any other shreds through the floor above and furniture is crashing all around.  

Inayah exits the mansion and runs further, only stopping at the treeline before whirling around as windows shatter. She can hardly see their behemoth masses moving from room to room, slamming and ripping at each other's body. One wolf is lifted and twisted in the air in the most unnatural of ways, its massive paws swiping and slamming against the assailant. 

Inayah stands frozen in fear, her eyes refusing to close no matter how much she tries to bid her body to react. The wolf growls, roars, pants, and their attacks are met with equal fervour of guttural sounds.

Then all too soon, there's a sharp whine and shuttering silence.