Flashback (Omkara is 19-20 years old in this.)
The handsome princes sat alongst the large dining table, enjoying their feast, chuckles mixing with growls as they watched their entertainers.
Which were eight slave woman, all dressed in bright, flashy bedlahs that had jewels embedded into the fabric at the waist and top.
Each of the exotic dancers were wearing face veils and moved their bodies in sync, all afraid of makingany mistakes in front of the direwolf brothers. For they knew the consequences. If the brothers didnʼt like what they saw, they either exiled them from their territory, or made them work the harder jobs, like being out in the orchards all day, burning under the scorching sun.
Or even worse, cleaning up after their bloody messes. It was either dance till you couldnʼt stand anymore or at least until youʼre dismissed. Or you scrub the blood off the palace walls and floors, even get rid of the blood and guts left behind at the punishing grounds, and collect every corpse left by the brothers, then set them aflame.
All of which were tasks the eight women didnʼt wish to look forward to. So, they swung and swayed their hips in a sensual manner, hoping to bring some sort of entertainment to the men.
Better yet, appeal to them.
Omkara leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips against the edge of the arm rest in a steady, repetitive rhythm. His luminous pools watched each slave, his gaze impassive and he fell silent, unlike his three other brothers who reeked of alcohol.
Ranveer and Rithvik were all too busy messing with Arijit , who was starting to grow annoyed.
"You have a bit of drool there. Better wipe it, your majesty." Ranveer messed with his brother, giving his back a hard pat. Whileas, Rithvik hooked his arm around Arijit's neck and grinned mischievously.
"See anything you like?"
Omkara raised his glass to his lips and took a gulp, letting the burning liquid slip itʼs way down his throat. His eyes remained focused on the slaves, though one seemed to have caught his eye.
A young maiden.
"That one is off limits." Before he even knew what he was saying, the response left his lips, coming out in a throaty growl.
This made his brothers instantly quiet down and stare at him, all three were wide-eyed as they looked in the direction of the redhead, then back at him.
The three quickly bowed their heads in acknowledgement. They knew Omkara didnʼt joke around when it came to females that caught his attention. All knew very well that he would kill anyone who touched what was his.
If he called dibs on a girl, they stayed far from her. Omkara still remained the strongest out of the three, and he took after his father, the king, in many ways. Everyone knowing that he would one day claim the throne.
He felt as if he were in a trance as his gaze locked with the brown-eyed woman. She kept her eyes on him, while she moved her hips to the rhythm of the music.
A growl rose up in the back of his throat as he had the sudden urge to mark her, but refrained when she looked away and did a small spin around, being in sync with the other slaves.
Omkara kept his eyes on his prey, growing aroused just by the sight of her, satisfied by the way her body moved. Yet, the music went on and on, making him grow restless and impatient.
So with a snap of his finger, the music stopped and the slaves paused, the smell of fear almost immediately filling the room. The woman stayed silent, watching the powerful prince rise from his seat and then make his way over to them.
