Hunted Princess

New Wolf

A/N: If you really want to get into the mood while reading the training scene, listen to Gasoline by Halsey. That's the song that motivated me to write that scene :) 

Siberia and Killian walked into their favorite pub, Moonshine, with the rest of the masters flanking them. Their collars glittered with the light from the sparklights floating around the ceiling, letting everyone know they were Askars from August's training facility. The barkeep, Milo, smiled wide and waved them back towards the bar.

"August sent word that you all would be arriving. Your tables are reserved out back. Pint of the usual?" Milo was cleaning off a table for the shifters that walked in behind them.

Killian bowed his head, "Pint for each you mean, right?" He grinned down to the short Spark.

Milo snapped his fingers and a little ember of energy zapped Killian's nose, "You're lucky I'm courting your Trainer." He smiled fondly at Killian, "Pint for each. And congratulations Siberia, we all just watched the announcement, you definitely have me as a supporter."

"Bah. Like this bitch has a chance. My bets are on the Bear from Terra. Have you seen how vicious he is? I would watch my back if I were you, little wolf, he will tear you in half." A drunk patron got into her face, growling his words through his fangs.

Siberia tensed but kept her eyes low like she was taught. On the grounds she was a Master, a high rank among the Askars, but outside of the grounds she was a lowborn, the scum of the earth. She couldn't dare lift a finger against a highborn lion, not unless he attacked first.

A rough hand grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at the drunk shifter. She could hear the low rumbles come from Killian but he couldn't do a thing. "You are a pretty one. Be a shame to put such a pretty bitch in the arena, maybe you can be my breeder." His grip became firmer, tightening and digging claws into her cheeks.

Milo waved a hand, pushing the drunken lion back into his seat, "Enough Miguel. You know the rules, no violence in my pub." Purple glowing eyes focused on him, warning against a challenge.

Miguel roared and stood, ready to attack the barkeep. A smooth voice came from the corner of the pub, "Miguel, I wouldn't do that if I were you. You see, she's a tournament contender for the King, she's also August's favorite askar, and Milo is his potential mate. I know you're drunk, but you aren't stupid. You attack him and she will maim you, maybe even kill you and no one will do a damn thing. So, do you wish to live or die?"

"Watch yourself she-bitch. You won't last in that tournament. Riker, I'm only letting this slide because of your father, you disrespect me again and I will rip your throat out with my teeth." With a last rumbling growl, he left the pub, slamming the door on his way out.

Milo sighed, "Thank you Riker. Apologies everyone, but you all know how Miguel gets during fighting season. Askars please follow me out to your table, drinks on me!"

Siberia let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding and turned to follow Milo. Killian immediately took her arm and began grilling her with questions, "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I should've ripped him to pieces." A low growl escaped the aggravated the wolf.

She gently pulled her arm away from his grip, "I'm fine Killian, and there was nothing you could do. We are not allowed to do anything unless they attack first, August would've been livid if you provoked a fight with a highborn. Now relax, I don't want to cause Milo anymore trouble." She joined the others outside and sat on the couches arranged around a floating ball of sparkfire. Killian sat next to her, hovering protectively.