Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

A gloved hand yanked Guinevere’s head up by the hair and punched her clean across the jaw.

Pain lanced along the entire right side of her face in one bright flash, and she felt the bruise forming under her skin before the sound of the hit had even finished traveling through her skull.

The soldier slammed her flat on the ground, then forced her thighs apart and positioned himself in between.

”Today I’m the only power you answer to.” He leaned close, breath hot against her ear. ”I’m gonna fuck the fight out of you and defile you so completely you’ll never feel clean again.”

Guinevere’s blood ran cold. Beside her, she heard the wet crunch of a second soldier taking Blair down the same way, followed by her strangled cry.

He manhandled Blair up onto all fours and pressed against her from behind, one hand squeezing her breast hard while the other slipped between her thighs.

”Stop shaking,” he ordered to Blair. ”You’re going to take every inch of me in a minute. Might as well get used to my hand first.”

That did it.

Everything went quiet except the sound of Blair choking on a cry and the hot, liquid fury that flooded every vein in her body like a dam collapsing.

Listening to a woman who had made her laugh for the first time in a week take a fist to the face and get assaulted was not a thing Guinevere’s body was willing to tolerate.

Her hands were pinned above her head. The soldier’s mass was tipped forward, his groin humping against hers in a frantic, sickening rhythm over her zip suit.

She went limp under him, eyes fluttering closed.

”You went down quickly, didn’t you... Fine. I’ll just use you like a warm toy.” He let go of her wrists and pushed himself up to straddle her, while his fingers searched for the zipper in the back of her one-piece.

Mistake. The second he did, she pulled her knee up through his legs and drove her boot into his dick hard enough to make erectile dysfunction a permanent lifestyle. She kicked his kneecaps next, followed by his ankles, and the man fell to the ground, with a sound more animal than human.

Just like he’d done to her, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and punched him in the face twice before slamming his head down onto a buried root so hard that his eyes rolled back in his skull and his body went slack.

The plagiarism felt delicious.

Guinevere turned towards the second soldier, who was pressed against Blair’s backside, with one hand in between her thighs and the other on her zipper. His head was raised, still processing what he’d just seen.

She didn’t wait and tackled him. Stupidly. Without thinking. Something she’d never done before. And by some miracle, he went down too. Probably from pure shock that a tiny girl was lunging at him like she was the most dangerous thing in the forest.

The tackle shoved him off Blair, and he hit the ferns with Guinevere on top of him. She drove her elbow into his nose. Cartilage cracked. Blood sprayed across the ferns in a wide arc.

He swung blind, catching her across the temple. She answered, delivering one karate chop to the windpipe. The sound he made was something between a gag and wheeze. The kind of noise that came from a windpipe deciding whether to keep working.

She rolled off him and stood. The ribs were next. Once. Twice. Three times, each strike landing in the same spot, the kind of methodical violence she’d witnessed male wolves do.

The man’s eyes were closed by the time she finished. For good measure, her boot found his crotch.

Two men who had promised to use her and Blair. Both had a boot delivered to their balls instead and were unconscious.

”You should’ve fucked each other. Better odds.”

She glanced over at Blair, who was on her side in the pine needles, one palm pressed to her mouth.

”Blair. We’ve got to go now.”

Blair nodded slowly, eyes red, and pushed herself up.

Guinevere took a blade from each of the unconscious soldiers’ belts, and tossed one to her. She caught it, then stared down at the weapon in her hand like she had no idea how it got there.

”The quiet girl this morning just punched two dragons in the face.”

”Blair.”

”You are very much NOT quiet. This explains why my brother likes you.”

Guinevere caught her wrist. ”Stay behind me. Do not lose sight of my back. If I say run, you run.”

”Understood.”

Blair’s jaw was already starting to purple where the soldier had hit her. Her lip was split. But her grip on the blade was steady now.

They moved quickly.

”I’ve tried mindlinking ten times. Nothing is going through,” Blair whispered.

Voices echoed in the trees. They had noticed the two men down. Guinevere motioned for Blair to be silent and froze.

”What?” Blair hissed, loud enough for her voice to carry.

Guinevere saw a shape in the distance, its head turned towards her. Without warning, she shoved Blair into the tree next to them.

Blair stumbled, falling, stunned. She looked down at the spot on her arm where Guinevere had pushed her, then up at Guinevere.

”Apologies,” Guinevere whispered, not moving. ”The mage sees me and not you. Run.”

The mage started closing the distance, lifting a hand in her direction. The air cooled around her in an unnatural way.

”Go now. Do not stop for anything.”

”I am not leaving you.”

”Blair.” Her voice was firm. ”They see me already and your window is closing. Find help if you can.”

”I am coming back for you. With an army. Do you understand me?”

”Understood. Go.”

Blair’s footsteps faded into the trees. The forest swallowed the sound. And Guinevere stood alone with a stolen blade, two broken ribs, and the absolute certainty that nobody was coming to save her.