Bound to the Alpha

Prologue

Trigger Warning- This story will contain instances of violence, human trafficking, sex and inappropriate language.

     Mason eyed the demented Oracle.

     Clearly, she had only two brain cells to rub together. That, or she was on the verge of veering off into permanent insanity.

     The woman was blind- horribly so - she had already knocked herself into the table several times.

     Lucien coughed into his hand, stifling a laugh.

     At one point, the Oracle had stubbed her toe, roaring a shout of pain.

     Mason glimpsed her bare feet - the one she was currently cupping to ease the pain. The nails on the tip of her toes were a jaundiced shade. He cringed at the unwelcome sight. Lucien had spotted the same thing he had, hiding a gag under the sleeve of his fighting skins.

     Mason eyed the door helplessly, wondering briefly if it was too late to back out.

     He wanted to kill Lucien for dragging him into this tent. Out of all the tents set up in the Grand Marché, it was this one Lucien wanted to enter.

     The limp lanterns dangling from the pink ropes were barely lit with fire. It seemed like the West Winds had blown through, diminishing the puny flames.

     The smell of pomegranate and spice had overwhelmed his senses, it had him back-tracking out the flaps of the entry, but Lucien had grinned, dragging his ass inside to sit on one of the petrified logs set near the low blazing fire. "You lost the bet Mason. It's now time to pay the price."

     Mason reluctantly sat on one of the pieces of wood surrounding the tame fire in the middle. It sparked a luminescent blue that covered the walls of the tent in eerie, dancing shadows. The fire crackled as the Oracle entered the tent from the opposite side, inviting a fragrance of cinder and ash.

     The Oracle had gone to the back to retrieve a dirty cloth in which she draped over her bony shoulder. The woman appeared ancient with her knotted silver hair. A few thin strands had been braided and looped with bright beads that resembled Skittles. Deep wrinkles lined her bold features as she regarded them with a grin of yellow teeth.

     Mason grimaced at the flash of poorly kept teeth.

     "What brings you boys here?" She sounded like she had something trapped in her throat.

     Mason frowned. He was fifteen. Not a boy.

     Lucien could probably sense the retort dancing on the tip of Mason's tongue, so he shoved his skinny elbow into his side, saying, "We heard that you could give us our reading. We're a year late, but at least we're here now."

     The woman eyed them with something akin to disinterest, but maybe that was due to the fact that she was blind.

     The poor lady couldn't exactly see them...

     She smacked into the table a total of two more times before she limped to a slab of wood opposite their seating arrangement. She wore a burgundy robe with gold stitching. The ties holding the robe together pooled at her feet as she sat down. "Who wants to go first?" She asked, sprinkling salt into the flames. It popped, causing sparks to fly.

     "Me." Lucien edged closer to the flickering flames with interest.

     The Oracle made no indication that she heard him. She just sprinkled another handful of salt into the flames and began muttering a line of words that made his skin crawl with discomfort.