Wrongfully Claimed [ MxM ]

Chapter 7

BLAINE ||

Being strong is what I've always had to be. They wouldn't break me. Not now, ever. They may keep me here - locked away in this chamber - but they won't break my spirit.

They've tried. It's had to have been years since they put me down here. In the cracked glass in the corner, I can see the changes in myself, in my body.

I'm no longer that young boy they took. However long it's been, I'm now a much more mature version of the teenager I once was.

I don't remember much, but what I do remember is the night I was taken. It was four of them. Four of them that grabbed me from the edge of the lake. Four of them that slammed me to my stomach and forced me to bare their marks.

I rejected their claim.

Mom and Dad taught me to be strong, that my fated would be out there somewhere and those men that tried to claim me, weren't my soul ties.

My disobedience irks them. My lack of fear and blatant disrespect has earned me more punishments than I could count, but I wouldn't back down.

I would never back down.

No matter how many times they beat me or starved me or forced that elixir down my throat or tried to make me submit. I wouldn't give them what they wanted. I was their worst nightmare while they were my greatest strength.

Before my time here, I was weak willed, young minded and very much a pushover. Being here, I've learned what it means to pave your own way. I've learned how to stand up for myself and how to make sure others knew I wasn't going to just take what they dished out.

It surprised me at first. My resilience. This oddly satisfying dominance that had never shown itself before. But now that it was here, I was latching on it, holding it hostage to everyday my life withered away here.

My wrists pull at the chains that hang above me, my lower body sat in a tub of ice water. My eyes find the purple flowers, that were beautiful at first glance, but once you find out why they're being used. Their beauty becomes the thing that makes them the ugliest fucking flower in the Realm.

My eyes close as I take in a deep breath, doing my best to ignore the pain radiating up my spine. It's everywhere, the flesh eating chemical. It burns. It burns so fucking bad.

My nose flares with the smell of searing flesh and my eyes clench shut harder. My fists are balled above my head, arms stretched upward - so tightly, I'm finding it hard to breathe.

But I manage. I always manage. I always find a way to beat whatever they can throw at me.

A hiss escapes me when my body shifts in the freezing cold water, the ice cubes bouncing off my skin. I should have gone numb by now, but that's not what they want. They want me to feel the pain, the soreness, the all consuming agony of the Wolfsbans floating in the free standing metal tub with me.

My jaw clenches as I try to focus on something else, anything else other than the torment trying to pull me under with it.

Instinctively my mind goes back to that night. The night I was taken. I'm back in the forest. I see the eyes that found mine. I feel my wolf stir with the realization.

Mate.

He was mine and I was his. I remember looking at him from where I lie helplessly on the ground. I hate feeling helpless. I hate how weak I was. My lip turns up in disgust at the memory for just a moment when I see that, but then his eyes are calling out to mine again.

I hear his voice. He's screaming for me. Running. There's another to the right. Another to the left.

And then the men who'd taken me and left me there as bait reappear. They're faster because they're closer. They grab me before my mate can get to me. The lake is wide, too wide. The journey would have been too long to run around it and the swim would have taken twice that time. He never would have made it to me before they did.

They grab me, drag me away. I can't even scream. I can't fight back. They've drugged me with something strong. Stronger than this wolfsbane in the tub right now.

When I hear the familiar creak of the door to the chamber open, my brows knit tightly and my eyes crack open. My gaze slides over to the stairs that descend down here into my little slice of bullshit.

There they are. All four of them. Large, intimidatingly built men who have sadistic attitudes and daunting smiles to match.

The largest one comes first. I call him Scar, he's the brain behind all of this. Then the second, he's smart but he's an Asshole with a hot temper. The third, I call him Stoic - that's all he does. Stand there stoically, no emotion, just to be a set of extra hands and muscles when needed. And the fourth, that's Dopey. He talks too much. Gives too much away that he doesn't think I'll pick up on. Too stupid to be apart of this elaborate plan.

"Hello Pet," Scar smiles, that one eye locked onto mine. I never look directly at it. He's fucking creepy. Instead I look at the long, hideous scar drawn the length of his face. "Eyes on me!"

I smirk, knowing why he'd lost his cool just now. Scar is subconscious about his scar. Go figure. It makes him look more badass if you ask me. If I was going to be some big, bad, tough asshole, I'd want a scar like that.

Maybe that's why he'd given me one. Thankfully he allowed me to keep both eyes, but my face, once unmarked - matched his in its scarred trophies.

I had a right mind to poke the bear, but as much as I hated to admit it, my body had taken a beating twice today and now, with the wolfsbane ice bath, I wasn't in any position to cause anymore trouble.

My eyes slide up to his eyes.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Scar asks and I scoff.

"Fuck you!"

Stoic shakes his head. "You weren't kidding about this one. He's tough as nails," his stoicism falters for a second as his eyes roam my burnt body. "You should let me take him back with me."

"Not a chance," Scar responds, glancing over his shoulder to say, "He's a headache, but his resilience spurs me on." He looks at me again. "You know the longer you stay in there, the deeper the wounds. The wolfsbane is eating at your flesh. That beautiful body is going to have some damage if you don't submit soon."

I glare at him, fists balling in my chains again as the burn intensifies. "Scars aren't all that bad. . . With my new ones, maybe I'll look just like you."

Scar growls at me, now moving towards the tub with his own fists balling at his sides. I brace myself for the impact that is sure to come.

What I don't do though is tear my gaze away from his. I don't cower and I won't submit.

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