Pauper Cube Novels & Stories

“She is to be my slave.” He says, dropping the bomb before gripping my chin tightly and forcing me to face him. “Do you have a problem with that, princess?” I try not to flinch from the pain, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. But I fail to hide the obvious hate for him in my eyes. I hate him for killing the love of my life. He chuckles and tightens his hold on my chin. His eyes flash red momentarily before returning to their normal grey and I tremble from fear. He looks at me like he wants to destroy my very soul but I don't drop my eyes as I glower at him spitefully. “Glare at me all you want, little bunny. From now on, I'm your master.” He smirks. I don’t know how I got here. I fell from riches to rags when I became a slave to the ruthless, dangerous, and cruel Lycan king overnight. He killed my fiancé, threatened my father, the Alpha king, and destroyed my life, turning me into a pauper and a slave pet when I was born a princess. He wanted me to be his breeder and give birth to his mini Lycan babies. This man was my worst nightmare and I was afraid of him. But can someone explain to me why when I'm close to him, I feel like my body is about to explode into a thousand pieces? He’s my enemy and I should find an opportunity to kill him to avenge my fiancé but why do all the cells in my body burn for him, wanting him close when I should loathe him and try my best to run away from him?

By the time I hit twenty without a husband, I'd become the joke of Butcher's Alley. I wasn't about to just take it, so I marched out to the pauper's graveyard and dragged home a half-dead man I found there. He was gorgeous. More handsome than any portrait I'd ever seen. It didn't matter that he'd lost his memory and wasn't quite right in the head. It didn't matter that he couldn't lift a crate or carry a load, that he nearly fainted dead away the first time he watched me slaughter a pig. I slapped my knee and made up my mind. "You're the one. You handle looking pretty, and I'll handle bringing home the bacon." I named him Walt and treated him like he was made of glass. I fed him well, kept him comfortable, and slowly nursed him back to health until his cheeks were full and his skin was soft. Then I started planning the wedding. On our wedding night, I'd just gotten his wedding coat off when the front door flew off its hinges. Hundreds of royal guards dropped to their knees all at once, their voices shaking the walls. "Welcome back to the capital, Grand Chancellor!" I looked down at the man beneath me. The warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by something cold and sharp. The belt I'd been holding snapped right in two. I was done for. I'd been bossing around the most powerful man in the empire for six months and using him as a house husband. Was I looking at death by slow torture, or would they wipe out my entire family?