We had a man in my village, a tall skinny thing with only a few teeth and what most people considered a poor excuse for a Viking. It was well known that we didn't allow anyone who couldn't earn their keep to stay within our sanctuary, as our people were very close back then and everyone helped out. Something about him made my father keep him around, whether it be his incredible stories when they sat down for ale or the slight limp, he walked with.

His weakness, no matter how negative it was for everyone else, is the only thing that had kept him within our village. Mothers hated him. I remember the endless fights my parents had about him, one of the only things they'd argue about. We never understood what everyone disliked about him. Sure, he was mostly a freeloader, but he was kind and often gave out gifts to the kids.

To people my age. I was around ten when things became obvious.

His interest in the children changed, questions finally began being asked and more than one child had a horror story to tell about the man who had very grabby hands. The one who'd led more than one of our village's children into the trees and had enough witnesses to immediately write his fate in stone.

I'd never been touched by him, spoken to and stared at? Yes. But I had been one of the lucky ones, at the time, who would not deal with the trauma another human being had caused me. When it came time for his execution, my parents insisted I join the rest of the village to watch. Some people left their children in the safety of their homes, while others believe watching his end would bring a sense of peace to their traumatized little ones.

I'd sobbed, standing there and watching as a man was strung up and prepared to be axed to death at a slow pace. He'd grabbed me, made me stare into his eyes as he explained how you must dehumanize those who do things like this. How they've chosen a course of horrid violence and do not deserve to live, and if seeing them as anything other than human-made it easier to deal with then that's what I needed to do.

So, as my mate kneels before me with a passive expression and his arms being held by the two Lycans who'd stood up for me I try to remind myself how I need to get through this. It felt like a punishment towards myself, being told to take the weapon into my hands and bringing justice upon the one who'd done me wrong.

It made me sick thinking about it, and my body urged me to drop the whip and leave. Leaving would be so much easier than this, I was sure. Walking away without putting both of through the pain, because every time I thought about bringing down the whip, I had a flash of familiar fire rise within me.

"Eira," Valda gives me a stern look, "he was going to do this to you. Only minutes ago, you were on this ground, prepared to take the hits for something you did not do—you have to finish this."

Dammit, her logical words infuriate me further as I decide she is correct. I could do this; I could hurt him as he'd planned on hurting me. It would not change anything between us. If anything, he would want me less after I leave him bloodied and broken at my feet.

Perhaps I could strut off the property and make my way home after I finished providing justice to the male who'd put his hands on me.

"I didn't want any of this." The shaking in my voice surprises all of us, Alarik seems sorrier than he is concerned as he clenches his jaw to stop from replying. Anger boils beneath my surface, the feelings I've been swallowing down for the past few weeks coming to the surface.

"We can't let this...monster, put her hands on our Alpha. Why are you letting this happen?" Mirinda approaches quickly as if I wasn't standing there entirely off my rocker with a weapon clenched dangerously tight in my hand. Her earlier words come back, and I wonder if I'd be whipped for finishes the job I'd attempted to do earlier. Which one deserved my wrath more?

"The next time you so much as look at my mate wrong, I will demolish you." It's a growled promise from the lips of a man awaiting his punishment, silver eyes glaring into a pack member he'd been protecting not long ago. "When Eira is finished, Asger and Valda will take you and Russ to your new place for the next few weeks. You've tried to ruin this pack's Luna, and in my eyes that makes you both traitors—you know very well what happens to those."

The horror of her future falls upon her like a cloak, no longer does she wear a fake mask of confidence but only that of defeat. She'd be put on that wooden frame, shamed for the rest of her life if she managed to survive the weeks of torment, he would put those two through. For a moment I wanted to stay around so that I could bear witness to their misery.

"If he collapses, you must stop, otherwise you decide to end this punishment when you deem it is over." Everyone is on their feet now, except for the male awaiting the harsh hand of his mate.

I don't know what I'd expected love to be like, not that I've spent the past centuries thinking about it, but I will admit it's crossed my mind more than once. The fantasies had never involved anything like this. Although Alarik meets every physical aspect I never knew I loved, and the way his skin against mine felt or the way his voice sent heat to my core was a plus. An unwanted, confusing plus.

How am I supposed to do this?

Instead of talking myself out of it, I bring the whip high and land the first blow—almost falling to my knees as his pained gasp settles into the air. I come close to stopping, trying to tell myself that even one lash is enough. It isn't, as I'm overcome with the different things this man has done to hurt me.

To upset me.

To try and own me.

With each reason I've been given to hold a grudge against this man, I push the weapon forward and listen as he takes in the punishment his mate provides.

His forced mark.

His heavy hands.

His hateful words in the face of my so-called sins against him.

The way I felt when he left me open and broken after my run-in with my nightmare.

"I did not want this!" The words are torn from my lips, and tears begin filling my vision and his punishment is given by my hand. This is how forgiveness worked. I try to raise the whip again, telling myself that I have so much more to be angry about, but I can't and soon enough it is me on my knees.

I throw the object created for pain far away from me and sob into the Earth. I'd done it. I'd hurt the male who'd caused me so much hardship since meeting him—and now all my heart wants to do is hold him. I want to apologize.

How can causing such violence to someone create the sense of peace I'd been wanting for so long? That wasn't as simple as getting my anger out, no that was beating my problems into him. My hands—hell my whole body is shaking, and I fear I will never stop the tears from continuing to fall.

Guilt is eating me alive.

I'm gasping as I am pulled upward, my body tucked in close to the limping Alpha as he furrows his brow and whispers assurances to me. The man I just battered has stood up to comfort me, to carry me away from prying eyes.

"Put the two traitors where they belong, and then go home and enjoy your families—we will have a feast in the hall tonight. Prepare accordingly." No one speaks, no need to reply to such a direct order from the bloodied man carrying his hysterical mate across the grounds.

I am almost worried when I note he is not taking me to the packhouse, instead, his feet make a very confident stomp into the awaiting forest, and only when we are in the cover of the trees do I move. My fingers grasp for his skin, the feeling of him against me is more comforting than I'd ever realized, and I take in long breaths. All I want is to have his scent, his body, his essence—wrapped around me. Keeping me safe, as he has thus far.

Another sob escapes me, but Alarik does not stop his walk. Those gentle words from his mouth never stop, soothing me slowly in a calmer demeanor but the ache still resonating in my chest is unable to be ignored. The sound of water hitting the rocks beneath it draws my attention to the area we have entered, a waterfall I have yet to see.

I'm entranced by the beauty of it. Maybe it's just the overwhelming surge of emotions moving through me as I'm clutched tighter into the Lycans' chest, or maybe it's my very being trying to recognize beauty in something so simple. Either way, I feel the constricting of my chest ease.

"I'm going to put you down, and step into the water. I need to wash the blood away." His words are soft, and when my feet hit the ground, he still does not let me go entirely. Instead, he takes my face into his hands and warm lips touch my forehead.

I close my eyes with a groan, taking in his warmth as I greedily press against him. My hands land on the expanse of his chest, feeling the beating of his heart and bringing a small smile to my lips. Slowly I move my hands over his body, moving to his back and feeling him tense when I gently glide over the wounds that have still not healed.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper to him; those lips move from my forehead and make a path to my own. The first few moments of our kiss are gentle, but then the urge to have his scent covering me and to hear those beastly sounds come from his chest pushes me to become more aggressive.

Without a second thought, I am pulling him towards the water with me, the difference in our height has it hard to walk while keeping our lips attached but Alarik easily fixed that. I'm hoisted into his arms with a grunt, one that has liquid heat flooding my core, and then we are being submerged in the water.

My mouth ravages his. I want everything he has to offer, every taste of him sending me another step past the point of insanity and I love it. The Lycan only stops walking when the water comes up to his chest, and my clothes cling to every inch of my frame as I try to press it further into his.

"You did what a Luna is supposed to do, but I know the action came with a price." His mouth is only inches away from mine as he tries to soothe me, my hand comes up to move over the handsome features of the face I cannot remove from my mind.

How was a man so perfect, made for a monster like me? I almost choke up at the thought.

"I can fix the wounds..." I stare into those silver eyes as I offer my assistance, the feeling of his hardness against my core is distracting me but I try to keep my head in the right place. His healing is most important. It has to be, as I am the one who has hurt him.

In more ways than this. I've dragged his emotions around with very little regard and now that regret is beginning to settle within me. I don't like feeling guilty for something that I felt was the right thing to do at the time. I'd never rejected him for the hell of it. To me, it wasn't meant to be and now I realize I was a fool to think this bond wouldn't take hold of me. Body. Mind. Soul.

Alarik looks like he is about to resist my offer, but I bite into my wrist before he can stop me and put it towards his mouth. The Lycans gaze does not leave mine as his mouth covers my bleeding wound and takes gulps of my blood into his mouth. Something about this is strangely erotic. The sharing of my essence with a man, especially this one. Sure, I'd helped Valda and plenty of other people in my lifetime but this one is different.

I release a soft moan when he draws in one last sip and leans forward to lick the blood from his lips once he is done.

"We should get back to the packhouse, you need to get ready for our event tonight." I scowl, somewhere I'd come to think we wouldn't be leaving this area. The need sitting low in my belly, and the hardness between our bodies had me almost praying for us to push a few boundaries. He notices the strange look.

My sexual frustration was well past the point of driving me insane.

"I-I thought we were going to...why are we getting ready for dinner?" I turn into a pouting child in a breath, my brows furrowed as the Lycans lips curve into a devious smile. He begins walking us out of the water, both of us clean of blood but my dirty thoughts had me feeling less than pristine.

Alarik presses a soft kiss into my neck, my body relaxes once again against his and when his tongue moves over the mark, he'd put on me I almost die. He doesn't stop, that tongue working magic as one of his hands moves between us to caress the covered, but still sensitive, place between my thighs. I'm moaning, rocking against him as my orgasm climbs quickly.

He doesn't stop, even when my body spams with pleasure and his name falls from my lips. My mate whispers adoring words into my ear, and eventually, my body is exhausted from the forcefulness of the ride I'd just taken. He kisses my neck once more before pulling my face into his chest and grumbling something about me being the death of him. As I am carried away from the waterfall, and decently satiated from that mind-blowing orgasm, I keep the images of his smile going through my mind.

My time to make a choice has come. I couldn't continue in a pack with my foot half in the door and half out, it wasn't fair to any of us. Valda had been right to yell at me, to ask me why I'd given them hope. Why did I? We're already upstairs when I find an answer, my loud mind screaming it at me with force as I am set on the bed and given a chaste kiss.

Alarik grins at me before grabbing a few different clothes and heading into the bathroom.

"Valda is in her room; she'll be helping you get ready for tonight so head over there when you can." He gives me one more glance, the smile in his eyes melting my cold, non-beating heart before I get to my feet. Alarik gives me a raised brow as I move swiftly towards him and grab his face, pulling it to mine.

I want to cry at the way his lips feel against mine, my body only this alive when I'm against him. After a few moments of kissing and I'm choking on my own emotions. When I turn and leave the room, I can feel his silver eyes on my back, and the entire time I'm thinking about how much I truly wanted this.

The hope of my own.