Love and Conflict (Mpreg)✔️

Chapter 2

WARNING: Intimate scenes involving a werewolf at end. Skip if you don't feel comfortable with the idea.

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The next evening, they were all groomed again.

They bodies were shaved off any fresh stubble, their skin scrubbed and polished, nails buffed and shined, and hair washed and styled.

They were asked to put on something Liam could only call a costume of some sort - a pair of skimpy shorts in a bright golden colour, and a sheer robe to be shrugged on over it but left untied, the material a pretty, gauzy white that clung to and flowed around their young bodies.

They were going to be taken back to the magnificent room they'd seen on the day they'd arrived, except now all the furniture had been rearranged in a broad oval, the wide open space in its centre bearing a low, circular stage.

The room wasn't empty this time either - every sofa was occupied. Men, terribly important looking men and even a few women, all dressed in splendidly rich clothes and holding glasses of fine wine and whiskey, sat about chatting idly.

Liam peered through the crack in the door of that small room they were all waiting in mere minutes before they were to be led out. He watched the way everyone seemed so at ease and comfortable - as if perusing and selecting from a range of slaves were the most normal way to spend their evening.

Liam's eyes wandered over each man and woman, at their gold wristwatches and diamond jewellery and silk clothes - and then suddenly his eyes landed on the biggest sofa in the centre - where sat Zayn Malik.

He was dressed in a magnificent black suit, beautifully tailored, and his crisp white shirt had several top buttons left undone, the gap revealing smooth, lightly tanned skin, and a thin gold chain bearing a gold medallion of some sort, resting on his sternum.

Liam wondered if the gold pendant would have absorbed some of that heat he had felt emanating from Malik yesterday as they stood face to face; whether the metal would feel warm to the touch; what the skin beneath would taste like, what it would feel like against his own bare chest...

It was almost as if his thoughts carried loud and clear down the short corridor and across the enormous room, and landed straight in Malik's mind - because suddenly, Malik glanced up from his tumbler of amber whiskey, and was looking right into Liam's eyes, his gaze holding Liam's with no trouble even over such a distance, the fire in them setting Liam's skin on fire.

And then Malik was leaning back and gesturing to someone across the room and the tall red head appeared, bending over the back of the sofa, his head lowered, ear angled towards Malik's mouth as he carefully listened to what he was being instructed to do.

Then they both looked up and straight at Liam and this time, Liam managed to take a hasty step back and quickly joined his comrades, holding the robes shut over his nearly completely naked body and shivering lightly - he realised he was terrified.

They'd been asked notto make eye contact with Malik and this was twice that Liam had done just that and now he was nearly completely certain that Malik-fuck it it's easier to call him Zayn- was about to have him killed - if not worse.

That curly headed man was suddenly pushing into their small, narrow waiting room then, asking all of them to line up and instructing them as to how they were supposed to file neatly into the sitting room, make their way up onto the stage and stand in a circle facing the guests. They were warned that the stage would begin to rotate gently and that they weren't to make fools of themselves by losing balance and falling over.

Lastly they were informed that few or most of them might be picked to be used for the night, or maybe several nights, and they weren't to tarnish the name of Zayn Malik by making things difficult, if they knew what was good for them.