Hey guys! Long time since the last update I know, but its been quite busy for me and so inspiration comes slowly... I hope you don't quit on me and continue to enjoy my story!

If you have any suggestions or ideas regarding the plot, or if there is a specific character from the series you'd like to see in the story please don't hesitate and pm me or write it in a review so I might consider it.

Also, in this chapter there is a bit of a time jump just to sort of get on with the plot, but unfortunately no sexy times between Stiles and Peter (I'm really sorry steter fans T_T) I try to put at least one steter scene in every chapter but this time there was no room for any... However, there should be some smut in the next one so stay tuned! XD

WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.

RATING: M

Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.

Chapter 4

(Peter's POV)

"Why hasn't he woken up?" I all but growled at the healer who came to change Stiles' bandages the following day.

"It is due to the excessive blood loss he suffered. I believe he will remain unconscious for at least one more day. If possible, I would recommend your Highness as well to avoid exerting yourself today at the journey. Leave your subordinates to handle some tasks-"

"Mind your tongue, healer."

The man cringed and no reply came, as expected. "You may go now. We'll be ready to leave within the hour so prepare as well."

"Yes, prince." The healer replied quickly as he bowed and left the room.

I turned towards where the little fox lay. He looked extremely pale, and his expression was pained even as he slept. I needed to find out what the hell had happened that had him behave like a madman. And I was sure whose fault it was… no one could have such an impact on Stiles but him. I stood up and made my way to the door. I flung it open and hastened towards the cell.

I still haven't made up my mind on whether to take Jackson to Azaran or leave him here. It is the first time I have allowed a member of a royal family to live, so I am not sure what to do with him. If I take him to Azaran, father will have him executed as soon as his identity is revealed. But then, as troublesome as it is, I'll be breaking the deal I made with Stiles and he will probably try to escape, or kill himself again. No, there is only one way I can think that will spare this stupid prince's life and make even the emperor unable to lay a finger on him unless I say so; he must agree to join my personal army.

The army I've been leading these past years is of course loyal to me, yet the emperor's orders are absolute and overpower mine. However, within this army, there is a smaller one, over which I hold complete power. These warriors carry my mark branded on their flesh and nothing can touch them, not even the emperor's wrath. They are exempted of all rules of the crown and I am the one who decides who to punish and how. If that prick agrees to join, he will manage to get away with his life. If he refuses, then, his fate will be at my father's mercy; or, better, lack thereof.

Let's see how far your stubbornness and stupidity go, prick…

††††

(Jackson's POV)

After Stiles left my mind was a haze. Anger the likes of which I'd never felt before had consumed every fibre of my being. Stiles had left my parents ignorant to get caught just like that. I cannot forgive such an act… he decided to save himself rather than follow my orders and perform his duty to his King and Queen.

How could he?! I thought as I paced through the cell fuming. I hit the bars again and I let out an irritated growl. A chuckle from the other side startled me since I was too consumed in my thoughts that I hadn't heard anyone come.

"You." I hissed furious.

"Did you expect someone else?" Peter shot back mockingly. I grabbed the bars tightly, glaring daggers at him.

"I will kill you, you murderer!" I shouted and hit the bars again, my mind blind to anything else but the face of the man who killed my parents, who stripped me of my title, who took my kingdom.

"I eagerly await for the day when your threats might actually sound real." The imbecile dared to snort at my words, but then his expression became serious, and he came closer, staring down at me darkly. "Your slave boy tried to kill himself. What did you say to him?"

A moment passed before I realised what he had said. I felt a sting of guilt in my gut, yet I stubbornly ignored it. I was just too angry to care.

"I see he still has some pride left. I guess he deserves it after letting my parents get caught just to save himself, anyway." I spat back but didn't meet his eyes.

"Please, even you can't be that stupid."

"Wha-"

"Shut your mouth and pay attention."

"…"

"I don't know what you think the boy did, but it's obviously wrong. He was captured in front of the main gates. Not quite the escape route, don't you think?"

Near the main gates? That's where I was fighting with the guards. There was no reason whatsoever for him to be-

"What have I done?!" I whispered horrified at the realisation.

"From what I gather, not much, just accused your most loyal slave, who loves you more than life itself, that he betrayed you by abandoning your parents to save his own skin."

"He did abandon them! They kept waiting for me because he never went back to tell them I wasn't going! It's still his fault-"

"Oh, cut the drama, already! Everything is your fault! You are the fucking prince and he is a simple slave. You failed to protect your kingdom and you failed to protect your parents, end of story. Deal with it, brat."

The barbarian's words struck me like a whip. It was everything I kept denying. How pathetic I was! He was right. Everything he said was right.

My knees weakened and my hands slid on the bars as I knelt down, crashed by guilt, responsibility and self-loathing.

"Why do you keep me alive? Haven't you humiliated me enough?"

"As much as I'd like to oblige you, I already said I've made a deal with your precious Stiles, so, unfortunately, killing you is out of the question."

I looked up and glared at him again.

"I saw the marks on him. Have you no shame, taking him against his will?"

"On the contrary. He is the most lascivious person I've come across. His body is made to be caressed. I am surprised you never cared to know how sensual and responsive he is when embraced. Then again, it might be so because I am his partner." Peter replied grinning and I clenched my jaw as my stomach clenched at the thought of him touching Stiles.

Yet, I did not have time to reply as Peter's face changed and I instantly knew what he was about to say was important.

"Do you hate me, Jackson?" It was the first time he spoke my name and it fuelled the wrath inside me.

"You murdered my family. I don't hate you. I loathe you."

"Good. Then I take it you want to take revenge."

"I will have your life, mongrel."

"From where you stand right now, I fail to see that happening any time soon, brat. He paused. "But if you join my personal army, the deal changes."

"What?! You must be joking!" When I received no answer, I realized he was being serious. "I will not bow to you!"

"Today, we are leaving for Azaran and you are coming along. If we reach my country and you are still a war prisoner, you will be executed as soon as we get there. You'll never get a chance to take your revenge." He let the importance of the words sink in before carrying on. "However, if you bear my mark, then the law of Azaran automatically seizes to apply to you. I am the only one who has power over my selected few; not even the emperor will be able touch you. If you truly wish to live, it is the only choice you have."

"Why are you so set on saving my life? I don't understand you at all."

"Don't get me wrong, I couldn't care less about you. I simply never break my promises once I make them. Yet, that was my promise, not my father's. Once you step your foot in Azaran, you are as good as dead." He paused again, giving me a strange look. "You've got one hour to think it over." He turned around and left me, angry and totally confused.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

One week had passed since I woke up to the gentle rocking of a caravan as it headed to Azaran. The healer would come every day to change the bandages on the slowly healing wounds on my hands, as well as check the progress of my broken ribs, so I couldn't lick my wounds to heal them faster like I'd normally do, unless I wanted to draw even more attention to myself. For some reason, Peter would always tag along. He would talk briefly to the man, yet he would not say a single word to me. It should come as a relief, yet why did it made me so upset? Why wouldn't he just let me die? Why would he seem so angry when he looked at my wounds? If I didn't know better, I would think he… cared. But all this is because of the deal. He didn't want to lose his newfound toy so quickly.

The tenth day, I got a fever. My body was hot and I kept sweating the whole night, yet the healer could not find the cause. When he gazed at Peter apologetically, the prince's eyes flashed angry; in my feverish state I thought I saw them glow red as he harshly said something to the man, but I couldn't concentrate and drifted off. That time, scattered images that made no sense invaded my dreams, confusing me and making me toss in my sleep.

A woman with long silver hair that reached her hips, would cradle a child in her arms, while screams came from somewhere behind her. She kept running, tears staining her beautiful face and fear twisting her expression. She entered a room, put the child down and locked the door behind her in a frenzy, barricading it with whatever she was strong enough to pull in front of it. She turned to her child and pulled it in a tight embrace, whispering sweet words of comfort in a trembling voice.

The child seemed to relax in his mother's arms, and the woman pulled back, her eyes having the most heartbroken expression I have ever seen. She kissed the child and placed a leaf on his forehead, saying something in a language I could not understand. Slowly, the child's eyes closed, and when they opened again, it looked as if he saw the woman for the first time. Uncertainty twisted his features, and tears began gathering at the corners of his eyes. The woman stood up and pulled a pouch from her bosom, forming with its content a circle and some patterns around the now terrified child, whose tails kept lashing around and his small pointy ears where glued on his head. She began chanting and the powder she had cast started to glow. She gave the child a final glance, and then everything disappeared.

The vague feeling of being surrounded by lukewarm water brought me back to reality, yet when I tried to move, I felt restrained. My eyes cracked open slightly, and I took in my surroundings. I was lying naked in a tab, yet, when I tried to sit up, an arm held me still, tightening gently around my torso. And then … that heartbeat I had learnt to know better than my own. His scent was all around me and my heart fell into a painful, rabbit-like rhythm. It reverberated through my chest, and I was sure he could feel it, if not hear it. The small tingling sensation I always felt when my ears came out spread on my head as they popped out and flattened instinctively on top of it.

Then, I heard it. The voice I had inexplicably wished that it had been directed to me finally did so, as Peter spoke softly, his tone hushed. A big hand came to rest on the base of my ear and started rubbing it calmingly. Almost immediately, my feverish mind relaxed and my eyes closed again, the voice and warmth of the other's body drawing a soft purr from me and my head fell to the side, presenting my neck to whom my inner self perceived as its alpha. My muzzled brain went along with my stupid instincts and soon I was asleep again in pure contentment.

††††

I opened my eyes tiredly and gazed at the opening of the tent. Moonlight was the only thing illuminating the dark night, casting shadows inside the tent. I could tell my fever was gone and I felt the urge to get out of the bed and this tent. Once I left the warmth of the covers, I felt the cold tagging on my skin. Azaran was a south-eastern country, so I though the closer we got the warmer it would get, but apparently I was wrong.

I took one of the covers and wrapped it around me, before I made my way out of the tent. My feet had grown weak from the lack of exercise and my steps were staggering and uncertain. As I passed through the other tents in the silence of the night, I could hear voices coming from where patrolling warriors stood, yet I found more fascinating the way my toes would sink inside the sand as I walked, leaving trails behind. I was so caught up with this new sensation that I didn't realize I had passed the last line of tents and when I raised my eyes, my breath caught at the marvellous sight of what was the dessert.

The sand stretched farther than my eyes could see, forming sand hills of different sizes, glowing under the moonlight. The sky was scattered with more stars than I could possibly hope to count in a lifetime, shimmering in all their heavenly glory, only outshined by the huge moon that floated high in the sky, bathing everything underneath it in its light.

I let my senses free and closed my eyes, ready to feel everything there was to know about this new terrain. My other self within me purred content since it was unusual for me to allow it to take control. I took in the different smells, the dryness of the air the silence; I felt everything there was to feel, heard everything there was to hear. From the wind that blew over the sand hills to the creatures hidden beneath the sands.

I let my ears out voluntarily just to make the sensation better. Even if I hate my nature, I cannot always deny my instincts, even if I am too ashamed of them.

I felt someone approaching me, and I instantly knew who it was. I scented the air and my ears flickered as I took in his musk scent before I retracted them, changing back. I couldn't smell him strongly anymore. Not in this weak form… it was the first time I thought I hated it.

"Why are you out here?"

"I was feeling better." I only said, my voice hoarse from disuse. I turned and looked at Peter. His eyes were smug and yet guarded, as always.

He came closer in all his imposing presence and those blazing eyes studied my face, before they turned towards the endless sea of sand.

"Do you like it? The dessert. My armies marched upon the sands like a sea of iron and death, rivalling the armies Gilgamesh unleashed as he marched against Babylon."

"It is breath-taking." I said, yet I had no idea of the man, or the place Peter had spoken about. Being a slave meant no education after all, even in Emmeria which was filled with scholars and wise men.

Peter's gaze returned to me. He seemed pleased with my answer. He reached out and snaked his hand behind my head, tangling his fingers in my locks. His face was right in front of me and I shut my eyes tightly, thinking that I knew what was coming.

But, instead, Peter's forehead rested on mine, his breath brushing against my lips as he spoke.

"Your fever is gone." Peter's voice was low and deep, and stirred something inside me causing me goosebumps. "Go sleep some more."

My eyes shot open as I felt his hand retract and Peter turned to leave. He had not intended to kiss me…?

Before I knew it, my hand came up and grabbed on the prince's sleeve. Peter turned, his brow arched up mildly surprised.

"Ah…" my hand clenched on the fabric tighter. "…forgive me…I-"

"Stiles?"

My eyes widened and I turned to face the person I expected never to see again.

††††

(Peter's POV)

I turned my head the same time as Stiles to see Jackson stomping towards us, an irritated expression on his stupid face. So troublesome.

Stiles' grip on my sleeve tightened momentarily before his hand fell lifelessly on his side, his poker face back in place. I shot the prick a glare for simply existing.

"Master" the boy lisped averting his eyes to the ground, his face having lost all colour.

"We need to talk, Stiles." Jackson only said.

"About what?"

"Stiles, listen, last time I went too far." Jackson said and reached out to touch Stiles, but the boy stepped back.

"No. I think those were your real feelings. I understand it, I really do." Stiles paused in an attempt to find the right words. "But, it was quite the shock… to hear what you truly think of me. So, please… for now… I cannot face you…"

Finally. The boy grew some balls. Well, it was only natural after what happened between them. Yet, I thought he was going to run back to his owner like a lost cub - no pun intended - no matter how many times Jackson would kick him.

Jackson looked as if the kid had slapped him. Surely, that was the first time Stiles rejected him. He had thought every cruel word he had told him, every accusation, would be completely erased with a simple 'I'm sorry Stiles'.

Jackson's puzzled expression was replaced by hurt.

"What is this, Stiles? Why are you being like this? I just want to make things right between us! I was wrong to blame-"

Stiles shook his head negatively.

"There is no need for that, Master. Whatever you give me, I will always gladly take."

And there he goes again. The boy's eyes held so much loyalty that caused me to roll my eyes exasperated. That look would always be reserved for the prick, He would always be forgiven, no matter what he did.

This is dragging too long, I said to myself justifying my butting in. It wasn't because I was being left out or anything.

"Glad to entertain your little drama here, but I am pretty sure your post is in the opposite direction, guard. Return to your position."

Jackson's face lit with an insulted expression and I have to say I expected a come-back, yet none came. Chance to play the bigger man in front of the little fox, huh…

"This isn't over, Stiles. I will make things right." Jackson said before walking away.

Stiles sighed, and then turned and gave me a questioning look.

"Guard?"

That's right. I never got around to telling him the arrangement between me and the shithead, so I briefly explained what had happened. Stiles tilted his head slightly to the side and stared at me while I spoke, as if trying to read behind my words. The kid isn't stupid to blindly trust me. In fact, his eyes spark with intelligence when he forgets to hide his feelings.

"So, then, Master is going to be safe."

"As long as he obeys and doesn't tell anyone who he really is, then yes."

"I feel a 'but' in there somewhere…" Stiles picked up suspiciously.

My signal smirk spread on my face at Stiles' words. With me, there's always a 'but'.

I raised my hand and run it through his silky locks, crashing them in my fist as I pulled him close in a brutal kiss. His breath hitched and his hands came up and clenched on my tunic when I deepened the kiss even more. When I released him, he was nothing but a quivering mess, his eyes hazy and cheeks flushed in that pink that suit him so much. Shit, I want to fuck him…

I brought my hand to his chin and forced him to look at me.

"Was this 'but' clear enough for you?"

He nodded before dropping his gaze on the ground. For some reason, though, I didn't feel as smug as I thought I would.