His Lost Queen-Sequel to Kidnapped by My Mate

Chapter 1

As I studied their startling, yet stunning, red eyes, I couldn't stop myself from glancing in the mirror next to me, noticing that my usual green eyes were also red at the moment. However, unlike the three Mortars, mine were darker, clouded in blackness with the presence of my wolf. I could feel both my vampire and wolf pressing up against my conscience. It wasn't invasive as neither of them were trying to take control, they were just revved up and ready for battle anxious for any reason to break free.

I looked away from my reflection quickly, tensing in anger. The last time I had seen my eyes in this color had been when Azazel had taken over my body, showing his true eyes as he looked in the mirror through my body.

I flinched, suddenly being pulled back into the memories of being in my own personal hell. My mind involuntarily replayed a scene from the past few months. I was watching my hand hit Belle, my mate, the love of my life, on her beautiful face, having no control, watching in horror as she flew to the side from force.

But the worst part came after the strike had taken place. Belle had looked up at me, her teary blue eyes round with shame... and apologized.

She apologized to me. Even though it was my hand who just marked her skin, she thought she had been the one who had done something wrong.

Twice. Azazel had hit her two times, taking complete joy in the fact that she thought it was me who was doing it. And each time, Belle had apologized to him. They were genuine apologies too, ones that made evident her regret. I didn't know what she was ashamed of, but, god, I could feel it. I could feel her indignity growing with every passing day. She was so hard on herself, beating herself up and wracking her mind over what she had done wrong. She wanted to fix whatever it was, not aware that it had absolutely nothing to do with her.

I had been screaming inside my head the entire time, pounding against the bonds that kept me trapped. It felt like I was drowning. I struggled so much trying to get past the control that Azazel had over me so I could go to my mate. I knew she wasn't eating or sleeping. I knew she was basically being spat upon by all the pack members. I could feel how weak she was getting. But I couldn't do a damn thing.

Every day, I hoped she would leave and run far away from here. But every day that I still felt her in this house, made me completely, fucking enraged with Azazel for doing this to her. I wanted to tell her to leave, to talk to Kyle or Elijah or someone, anybody, and get the hell out of here. I couldn't understand why she would stay. Why the fuck didn't she run away?

Sure, Azazel had told her he wanted her for the power she could give him, demanding that she stay because of that. But, in reality, he wouldn't have noticed if she left. And that is what killed me. If she was staying out of fear of being punished if she were caught, her fear wasn't necessary. Azazel's mind was occupied with other problems. I knew this because I had spent over two months hearing his thoughts; I basically knew every single detail about the former vampire king.

He had been unimpressed with the fact that she was human, and although he found her attractive—and loved to remind me of it—, he wasn't actually interested in having her around. He only tried to sleep with her because he wanted to taunt me and make me weak. But, surprise, surprise, trying to mate with an alpha male's female doesn't make them weak. No, it had the opposite effect—it made me furious. I became so blind with rage each time he laid a hand on her that, finally, my wolf was able to slip through the possession and take control to tend to our mate.

Azazel had learned from that experience. Seeing my mate get hurt made me furious enough to break free of the control he had over me. He knew then that the best way to truly weaken me was to stay away from Belle. And he did just that. He starved the mate bond. And as I felt my mate slowly dwindle I faded along with her.

It wasn't until two nights ago that Azazel tried mating with Belle again. Only, this time, it wasn't to taunt or anger me—although it definitely did both of those things. Azazel realized that someone had gone through his desk. One of my pack members knew about the letters he had been sending to the Clan of Azazel. It was at that moment that I felt fear in him for the first time. Knowing that his war could be happening sooner than he was anticipating, he decided to complete the mating bond in order to be as strong as possible during battle. When Belle refused—to my absolute fucking relief—he didn't hesitate to kick her to the side and choose another.

Azazel didn't know that that was the decision that had finally set Belle free. She was heartbroken, but she was finally able to force herself to leave now that she thought I didn't want her. The thought made me wince in pain.

But it was the fact that it had taken that long to leave that made me sick to my stomach. Why hadn't she left before then? The door was wide open. God, why did she stay in this damn packhouse where she was being abused and treated like nothing more than the dirt on the bottom of someone's shoe? Did she think she deserved this? Did she expect this to be her new life? She was worth so much more than this and I thought she would know that because, hell, she is so much stronger than anyone could ever imagine. She had been through so much and was able to pull herself from the ashes each time her life burned down.

I understood now, though.

With each passing day that Belle continued to endure abuse without fighting back, it became more clear to me that perhaps she had come to face too many fires, that her life had burned down one too many times. She was convinced that, after a certain point, fires stop being coincidences or accidents. When fires follow the same person everywhere they go, it is evident that that person has an affinity for starting them.

And so, Belle let herself get burned. My strong mate watched in defeat as the fire began to consume her. Because, according to her, no matter what she did, the fires followed her everywhere she went. She escaped only when the pain became too great, when the burns were too much to handle.

When she thought I had rejected her to be with another.

I had no doubt that the burns she endured would leave scars. It would not be easy to gain her trust again but fuck if I wasn't up for the challenge. I wouldn't give up until I had her back in my arms. I would never let her go again. Together, we would build her back up until she remembered just how strong she really was.