ALPHA'S CRUEL ADDICTION

  Chapter 1: Joined As One

"Your first husband has died at war."

A piece of heart-dropping news, only to be met with another.

Her Papa continued, "You are now a widowed human girl."

Humans were prey, especially Descendants of the Moon. Direct Descendants' blood seeped liquid silver that healed vampires that ruled nobility and their flesh tempted werewolves that served as the nation's army.

Ophelia Eves didn't know what to say. Her heart dropped to her stomach and her hands trembled in disbelief. Wind bellowed outside, the entrance curtains flapping to reveal other tributes already beginning to line up.

"That'd be impossible," Ophelia squeezed out. She may not know her husband well, but there was one thing she knew he excelled at—fighting.

Another voice spoke up from beside Ophelia's father.

"With his death," Matriarch Eves finalized, "There is no marriage or husband to protect you. That is why you're participating in the Decade Tribute Ceremony today."

Matriarch Eves gazed at her granddaughter. This meek little thing would not be fully prepared for the consequences of her husband's death. Soon, when the people out there saw her silver hair and amethyst eyes, they'd know what her true identity was, even if Ophelia herself didn't.

"Your life's on the line," Matriarch Eves remarked with no remorse. "You are a human girl, widowed, and virginity taken. This is the only way you'll find someone to protect you."

"O-on the same day I'm supposed to mourn my husband, I'll be wedded off again," Ophelia stammered out, unable to form a proper sentence without her irritating tongue.

"Precisely," Matriarch Eves said, her gaze sharpening at the horrid habit. Even though she understood the silliness of this situation, their hands were tied. It was either now or never.

"The Decade Tribute Ceremony happens every 10 years, you won't have another opportunity like this again," Matriarch Eves continued at the sight of Ophelia's reluctant expression.

"I know," Ophelia mumbled.

With lowered eyes and shaky hands, Ophelia tried to form sentences, but all she could do was blink.

"Are you sure?" Matriarch Eves bit out at her blank stare.

The tortuous tradition of the Decade Tribute Ceremony began as a treaty signed by the humans who had lost brutally in a war against the werewolves and vampires.

To remind humans of their lowly place in the food chain, every 10 years, the noblest and blue-blooded human families that heavily contributed to the war ten generations ago must provide a female tribute. This was the only way the three races could exist in harmony—humans had to be sacrificed.

"We're not attempting to give you away again, but this is the only way to protect you," Ophelia's father began.

"Aaron," Matriarch Eves warned, rushing to shut her son's mouth.

Ophelia shakingly turned to her grim-faced Papa. Guilt flickered on his pale features. His limp leg and cane rendered him useless in Matriarch Eves' eyes.

Her father had once taken a horrid beating in Ophelia's place, sheltering her from Matriarch Eves' blows, but the old woman was too harsh. Matriarch Eves had shattered her own son's legs for intervening—crippling him for life.

"Everyone dies at a certain point," Aaron reminded her in a defeated voice. " Even the werewolves that served as warriors of the nation and vampires that ruled nobility with an iron fist can die. Even if Killorn was a Duke's son, he was just a human man, his death was inevitable."

"I-is that all?" Ophelia dully murmured. She was too caught up in the despair to register the maids harshly combing her hair. Silver strands spun to the floor, gathering like tainted snow.

"All the despicable and powerful werewolves and vampires are present," Matriarch Eves stated, just as there was a commotion in the background. She glanced out of the tent, wondering what it could be.

Ophelia painfully glanced at her grandmother, her scalp burning from the inconsiderate maid, but she was used to this treatment. Matriarch Eves took over as Head of the House a decade ago. At that time, Ophelia was only 10 years old when word of a horrific incident involving her reached the sickly Patriarch who had a heart attack. Since then, Matriarch Eves had always abhorred the young woman.

"I-is he really dead?" Ophelia couldn't concentrate on the ceremony. She was still trying to understand her husband's sudden death.

At the slightest of Ophelia's stammer, Matriarch Eves' frigid gaze turned her private study into a winter wonderland. A chill rattled Ophelia's spin.

"Cease your chatter immediately!" Matriarch Eves snapped. Her patience thinned whenever Ophelia's bad habit resurfaced.

Ophelia flinched at her grandmother's thunderous glare. Instantly, she clamped her mouth shut. She could never disobey her grandmother, who had beaten her enough to cause more psychological wounds than physical ones.

"Ophelia," Matriarch Eves coldly remarked in the regard as she would a servant. "When you were 18, we married you to him to protect you, but it's been two years since he deflowered you, disappeared in the morning afterward to fight an unspecified battle, and left you practically widowed since then."

Ophelia froze.

"Since then," Matriarch Eves continued. "There has not been a single letter about him or the battle, even if we wrote to his family. He is as good as dead—no human would ever last in a battle when werewolves are warriors of the land and vampires rule the nobility with vengeance to keep us humans contained."

So this was it.

"House Eves is expected to present a tribute," Matriarch Eves reminded her. "It would've been Roselind, but you traumatized your older sister when you dragged her out to the festival two years ago. Your inadequacy means you'll take her place today—even if it means death."

Regret stabbed Ophelia like an arrow through a bird.

Ophelia remembered the day she and Roselind, her older sister, were attacked by vampires. The party didn't start until Roselind showed up—she was just that beautiful. On that fateful day, Roselind insisted on staying for the Setting Sun's festival. Even now, Roselind's haunted screams filled Ophelia's nightmares.

Ophelia remembered Roselind's helpless gaze as she writhed against the vampire's cruel bite.

What had the vampires said again? Ophelia suddenly remembered his crude words—"Not that one."

"But she's the only one that smells so darn sweet," another groaned with bloody red eyes that pierced through Ophelia's body.

"You know the order, anyone but her," his companion replied after grabbing Roselind by her hair, as Ophelia was frozen with shock. "Now, straighten up and tell the fine lady to have a good day."

"Even though we assaulted her sister?"

"Yes."

"Have a merry day, young lady."

Ophelia recalled those words as if they had happened a moment ago. A group of bloodthirsty and rogue vampires had surrounded her, but not a single one dared to touch her.

'Anyone, but her,' Ophelia recalled. What did they mean by that?

Ophelia could tell they were rogue vampires by their skeletal appearance where skin clung to their bones and their bodies mimicked mummies due to how dry they were from the lack of human blood.

The vampires were on the verge of death and still didn't drink her blood.

Ophelia didn't know why, but soon, she would—for all the wrong reasons.

- - - - -

Ophelia was set up from the very beginning.

Ophelia had barely set foot in the grass clearing where enormous white tents were erected with noble human houses' emblems which could be seen from afar, the color resembling surrender flags. The humans were once again reminded of their defeat in the ancient war, as one by one, families watched their daughters line up like pigs for slaughter.

"Near silver hair and amethyst eyes, they're traits of the Moon Goddess's descendants, could it be…?" An Alpha whispered to his Beta, a second-in-command.

One by one, Alphas—leaders of the Werewolf clan— and Vampires glanced at the women with disinterest. Though, all of them peppered in Ophelia's direction, even if it was for a single moment.

Betas and heads alike instantly turned towards her, eyes sharp with curiosity.

"Perhaps," Betas were Second-in-Command and all of them were rapidly firing statements at their Alphas.

Ophelia couldn't hear their conversation. What were they looking at? The second they saw her, they turned to their advisor, who could only shake their head in disapproval. Everyone seemed interested in her. Why?

"Ophelia," Matriarch Eves snapped, suddenly approaching her granddaughter with a man in tow.

Ophelia didn't want to look, but she had no choice. She froze at the sight of the man old enough to be her father. Her heart stopped. A vampire. His pigeon-blood eyes reflected her frightened gaze.

"Bow to Neil Nileton, your soon-to-be new husband."

"Hello, darling," Neil murmured in a slick voice that made her skirt back a step.

Ophelia's head spun. The last thing she remembered of her husband was a painful embrace in bed, their heated bodies, and the silver flames of his rough gaze. She remembered his large hand grasping her waist, his soft frown, and the warmth of his touch.

"Well?" Neil pressed on.

Ophelia's skin crawled with goosebumps at his voice. His leery gaze flickered across her white-cladded shoulders. He stepped forward with confidence, his pigeon-blood eyes penetrating her, lifeless and leery.

Vampire.

"H-hello," Ophelia forced herself to say, hoping that her stammer would deter him. It did.

Neil paused.

Ophelia shakingly glanced away at Matriarch Eves' snarl. Neil was a close family friend of her grandmother's. House Nileton protected House Eves and was the reason they were able to prosper; since, human families needed a supernatural sponsor, preferably noble vampires, that'd ensure their businesses wouldn't be attacked or sacked by the empire. House Eves depended on Neil, who was a second son at forty years old.

"What is with all that noise?" Matriarch Eves murmured when she saw the same chaotic crowd gathering at the foot of the forest.

"Ignore it, Ophelia," Neil said when he saw her finally raise her head. He stopped. Truly, she was just as the rumors said, purple eyes bearing a prophecy.

Neil narrowed his eyes at her rigid stare. Had he not been old enough to be her father, he was quite charming with his dense mustache and stealth-build, but slight beer belly.

"Ophelia. Bow." Matriarch Eves' words were absolute.

Ophelia greeted him with a curtsy—showing every man and woman here, she had been chosen. His ruby eyes penetrated her within seconds, still lifeless and leery. Her heart skipped, he was a creature of the night.

"Marvelous," Neil murmured, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, his parched lips lingering too long.

Ophelia snatched her hand back as if his saliva was poisonous. He snarled, his sharp predatorial fangs flashing out of his mouth. She froze in fear, even though her leg ached to connect with the family jewel between his thighs.

"He's selected you during the ceremony." Matriarch Eves stated with a pleased smile for everyone to see.

Liar. Ophelia knew her grandmother despised werewolves and vampires alike, which didn't make sense for Matriarch Eves to send Ophelia to the ceremony. The official selection process had barely begun, but this was Matriarch Eves' plan for the family to fulfill the requirement, and introduce Ophelia to their choosing.

Smart.

"I hereby declare you my tribute," Neil arrogantly announced.

Murmurs of complaints filled the air, earning a snide glare from Neil who grabbed her without warning. They were yanked into a canopy tent, where Patriarch Nileton was already waiting for them. What was going to happen now?

Ophelia saw a bribed priest with a holy book inside the tent. They were actually going to get married on the exact day her husband had died. What the hell was wrong with these people?!

Ophelia's emotions threatened to spill out but she bit her lip & blinked back the first drops of tears. She should be mourning her husband not saying, 'I do', to a new one.The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Ñøv€lß1n.

Once again, a loud commotion was heard from the distance. Through the fluttering tent entrance, she saw the powerful Alphas falter and blanch at their Beta's statements whereas Vampires sharply turned to their advisors in disbelief.

"When the ceremony ends," Matriarch Eves calmly said, oblivious to the situation. "Our houses will be joined as one. As of this moment, Ophelia of House Eves' marriage to Killorn Mavez is annulled."

  Chapter 2: Rough In Bed

Ophelia swallowed. What would Killorn say?

"A widow to a courted woman all in one day, you should feel grateful to have me," Neil sneered towards a pale-faced Ophelia. What was this woman's problem?

Both of their families were present. The Decade Tribute Ceremony was still in full swing. But because everyone was eyeing Ophelia, Neil had purposely dragged her to the vampire side. He intended on showing everyone he was publicly courting Ophelia.

Despite that, Neil was suddenly nowhere in sight. She was sitting with a table of vampires, all of whom were eyeing her like candy.

Ophelia sat in her chair with the expression of a prisoner. Maybe a jail would be better than here. Everywhere she looked, there were bloodthirsty vampires watching her. This ceremony was making her sick to her stomach.

In the open space, House Eves and House Nileton mingled closely, laughing amongst themselves, chatter filling the air as both parties pretended Ophelia hadn't been married before.

Earlier in the day, Neil had forced them to say vows in church before a bribed priest, who swore he was a worshipper of the Old Gods until gold was presented to him, and he suddenly lost faith. Only Matriarch Eves was present as the eyewitness. No one knew of what took place—Matriarch Eves made sure of it.

"W-what is grandmother thinking?" Ophelia mumbled to herself, watching Neil converse with some other young woman. She never stuttered when she was alone.

Matriarch Eves wanted everything under wraps as if on the surface, she promised Ophelia to Neil.

Ophelia was smarter than that. Matriarch Eves only wanted to dangle Ophelia infront of the balding man, but let everyone else know, she was still "unwed."

"I want that one," a voice spoke in the distance as he turned to his advisor.

Ophelia froze in fear.

"She's taken it seems, my lord."

"Is she marrying him?" he asked his advisor.

"No, my lord, but he seems to be courting her. Look around."

Flowers littered the large courtyard, hoping to brighten the dreary atmosphere. Storm clouds rolled over the hills, painting the sky an ominous gray. Not a single bird flew at the ceremony. Not a single ray of sunshine greeted the tributes. It was almost as if the gods were pitying them.

"Killorn was a despicable human lucky to have you, but the bastard died shortly after pumping into you," Neil chided whilst finally returning to his seat. Whilst rubbing his chin, he smirked when he saw his quiet candidate flinch.

House Eves was known for breeding beautiful and brilliant women who married prominent men in society. Marrying an Eves was as good as buying the best horse at an auction, for their social networks were too superior to ignore.Discover, Devour, Delight: N♡vεlB¡n.

"You should feel grateful to me," Neil said. "I am not as pathetic of a beast as your cruel husband. Rumor has it he is literally heartless and feels nothing. He doesn't even love his own parents."

Ophelia stiffened. She was well aware of the rumors about her late husband, Killorn. They said his dark childhood shaped him into a merciless monster. He was emotionless. He adored nothing. Loved nothing. He had a heart of stone and killed without hesitation.

"Killorn would've been disfigured too from whatever unspecified battle he was in," Neil rambled. "He'd be marred by scars, his skin burnt with boils worse than the pox, and he'd scream bloody murder in the middle of the night—"

"I'd comfort h-him," Ophelia softly said. "I'd take his pain and share it, but for you? I'd make you s-suffer tenfold and watch."

Neil shot out of his chair in warning, his eyes blaring red. What did this bitch just say? Before he could do anything, his father grabbed his hand in warning. They had all of eternity to torture her.

Ophelia swallowed. She was fearless for a moment, but regretted it immediately afterward.

"Anyways," Neil gritted out. "He would've beaten you too. All werewolves are violent men who take their anger out on their wives if they are not fated mates."

Ophelia remembered how rough her first husband, Killorn, was in bed, but it wasn't intentional. The pain was intolerable, but he was there to wipe her tears away. Ophelia heard men only took what they wanted in bed and never gave, but Killorn was nothing like that.

Ophelia was surprised at how gentle Killorn's large hands probed her garden; slow and soft, until she succumbed to his touch. The fire burned in his eyes as he watched her grip on his powerful bicep.

"Disgusting mutts," Neil sneered.

"What was that crazy commotion just now?" Matriarch Eves said, finally returning to the table where the newlyweds' main families were present. "All of the Alphas and Vampire Heads were rushing off. Must've seen a new face in society amongst the tributes, like our Ophelia who has seldom stepped foot outside the house."

When Neil quirked a brow, Matriarch Eves changed the conversation.

"That useless mongrel never deserved the prestige of House Eves' name," Matriarch Eves commented beside Ophelia.

Ophelia stilled at her grandmother's critical words. All her life, she learned to obey the Matriarch who ruled over everyone with an iron fist and sharp tongue. Those that didn't listen learned the strength of Matriarch Eves' strikes.

"Besides," Matriarch Eves continued. "I don't know what my stupid son was thinking about when he readily agreed to the marriage with Killorn, even if he was a Duke's son."

"Most likely to protect her since he was a Duke's son," Neil continued. "The men, Alpha and Vampire Heads alike, are already wondering about her background and potential as a direct desc—"

"Only vampires would benefit from marriage to Ophelia," Matriarch Eves interrupted Neil. "Her blood possesses healing properties and only creatures of the night would be willing to drink it."

Ophelia's heart skipped. This ability of hers was a dark secret in the family. Everyone tried to hide and protect the truth with their life. Matriarch Eves dropped it into the exchange so casually, Ophelia knew she was being traded off like a pawn in this marriage.

"What a special creature she is," Patriarch Nileton commented from beside his son, Neil. "But for once in your life, you weren't thinking properly, Matriarch Eves when you agreed with your son."

"N-no," Ophelia attempted. "She was thinking p-prop—"

"You still haven't learned to fix that horrendous habit of yours?" Matriarch Eves spat out. "That useless mother of yours, I knew my son shouldn't have married someone as thin as a stick! Look at what she birthed, a babbling buffoon! To think she died at childbirth for something like you…"

Ophelia flinched in fear, her eyes brimming with tears. She could barely see past her feet. She was just too afraid. To be reminded of her mother in such a way was cruel and heartless. But then, she was accustomed to her Grandmother's biting words.

Ophelia bit down on her tongue. She hated how easily she cried. When her emotions got the best of her, she was overflowing with waterwork. Her Papa said it was because she wasn't allowed to show emotions as a child, and now, she had too many as an adult.

"Don't worry, Matriarch Eves, Ophelia will soon be under the good care of our family," Patriarch Nileton said with a leery glance in her direction.

Ophelia reminded people of a baby deer without her mother's protection. Delicate… delightful… demure. Everything he loved in a woman.

Ophelia nearly threw up in her mouth. She saw Patriarch Nileton's old grubby hands pat his son's knuckles, happy for him.

"If it hadn't been for the Decade Tribute Ceremony…" Neil stroked her cheek. "I would've just kidnapped you."

Ophelia was overwhelmed with disgust. His scrawny fingers slid down her face, goosebumps peppering her skin. He brushed his thumb on her neck pulse. She could feel her stomach bubbling with anxiety and fear.

"My cousins are so jealous of me, they're eyeing you like food, look," Neil forced her, grabbing her chin and turning her to show her face towards the crowd of onlookers.

Ophelia's heart stopped. The vampire's thirst-filled stares made her wonder if she was naked and on a platter for them to eat. She was paralyzed with fear. Their eyes were as red as spilled guts of animals. And to think that people accused Werewolves of being worse than Vampires…

Suddenly, Neil rose out of his chair, his attention glued to the forest trees where he promptly walked.

Oh thank god, Ophelia thought he would never leave. She hoped he would trip down the stairs and die on the spot. Unfortunately, he was still perfectly well and was rushing behind a tree with a man. What was he doing? Ophelia's curiosity momentarily perked up - she hoped that maybe he wasn't really interested in her & this marriage was just a facade. Maybe he was batting for a different team?

Ophelia dryly turned away, but then, she saw something glisten. When no one was looking, she snuck off too, tiptoeing all the way to the spot. She heard rushed voices.

"She smells so sweet," Neil remarked to someone. "I can't wait to taste her."

"Truly, brother you are too ballsy, she has a protective order," a humored voice drawled.

"Who cares, Nathan?" Neil laughed haughtily.

Nathan, as in, Neil's older brother? And what protective order was he talking about? Ophelia's head spun at the new information.

"Anyway," Nathan continued. "Take this."

"This is huge!" Neil hissed.

Ophelia wondered what it was. It surely couldn't be their manhoods, that's for sure. She was currently leaning against the tree nonchalantly to outsiders, but truthfully, she was eavesdropping.

Clearing his throat, Nathan lowered his voice. "Claim her quickly before the Great Lords find out. I hear a suspicious group of people has been spotted near House Eves' borders."

"Do you think it's the Great Lords' henchmen here to reinforce the protective order?" Neil responded in a high-pitched voice, almost frightened. "But she is my candidate! I chose her for the ceremony! Surely, if the Great Lords value her, I wouldn't have been able to pick her—considering my status as a vampire."

"I don't know," Nathan warned. "Father has warned you to do it quickly. When you drain her blood into the bottle, make sure you command her not to tell anyone."

'I'm standing right here, stupid.' Ophelia strained her ears to hear them.

"You think she won't tell?" Neil deadpanned in disbelief.

For once, he said something smart. Suddenly, they were quiet. Without warning, red eyes popped into her vision. Ophelia gasped, quickly scrambling off the trees.

"You heard us," Neil warned whilst taking a threatening step towards her.

Ophelia was frightened. She tried to leave, but he roughly grabbed her wrist. His grasp was firm and he squeezed her painfully. She cried out, his face twisted, yet he remained calm to not scare the onlookers. She saw the large bottle he suddenly tucked into his pocket, but it bulged out.

"Were you eavesdropping?" Neil slid his hand down her lower back until it hovered slightly above her behind.

Ophelia's stomach tightened in fear. His presence left her with a bad aftertaste. He was always subtly inappropriate with her, even before this ceremony. Every time he saw her, his fingers would linger on things they shouldn't. Was that why Matriarch Eves paired them up?

"You've been a naughty girl, Ophelia," Neil murmured. "I am very disappointed in you. You understand why, don't you?"

No. I frankly don't. Ophelia swallowed hard. If only she had the guts to disrespect him again, but she didn't.

Earlier, Ophelia was blinded by his insults, but now, she was aware of her situation. They were husband and wife soon. And he was a wife-beater.

"You know what I do to disobedient little girls, right?" Neil pressed on, his voice lowering.

Neil opened his mouth again, but suddenly, he paused. He looked like he saw a ghost.

Ophelia stepped back and froze. She felt a heavy presence against her, but she didn't know who. She tried to look.

"Keep your eyes forward," the person commanded.

Ophelia's heart lurched. His voice was velvety and deep, but his tone was sharp as a sword piercing the heart.

"Go," he seethed.

Ophelia felt Neil's grip loosen momentarily. She didn't need to be told twice, she hurriedly ran off with her heart in her throat. Thump. Thump. Thump. She didn't hear any familiarity in her savior, but she didn't even dare to look back. Suddenly, she ran into her Papa.

"Ophelia!" Aaron gasped, seeing her distraught expression. She nearly knocked him over, his cane falling to the ground with a quiet thump.

Ophelia shakily bent and picked the cane up for him. She was light-headed and barely able to breathe. The near-death experience flashed before her eyes again. She discovered she'd become a milk cow for House Nileton. Neil was her family's sponsor, there was nothing she could do to him. She could never escape Neil.

"P-Papa…" Ophelia choked out.

"Sweetheart, where were you? Are you alright?" Aaron worriedly asked, taking the cane and brushing the dirt from her fingers. He never wanted to soil her.

"There is a protective order on me," Ophelia murmured in disbelief. "You know about it, don't you?"

Aaron was never a lying father. He saw her sickly features and sighed in defeat.

"Yes," Aaron began. "The Vampire Overlord and Werewolf Overlord cooperate but are never friends with each other. They seldom come to agreement, but the second time they did—it was for you."

Ophelia was floored. What?

"Ten years ago. Both the Vampires and Werewolf Overlords issued a command—Ophelia Eves' blood is off-limits."

Chapter 3 On The Bed