Filthy Beginnings, page 1
part #3.50 of Ruthless Warlords Series
FILTHY BEGINNINGS
PREQUEL TO FILTHY ROYAL: A DARK FATED-MATES ROMANCE
ALISON AIMES
CONTENTS
Author Note
The Alphaverse
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
AUTHOR NOTE
This prequel takes place before the events in Ruthless King, Savage Prince, Broken Heir, and Filthy Heir.
It includes no spoilers, just some fun foreshadowing that will have all those who’ve been following along from the start of Ruthless King taking note.
Filthy Beginnings has plenty of action, schmexy times, angst, and story threads that will turn into major reveals and twists in the main novel, a second-chance romance with a HEA, Filthy Royal: A Dark Fated-Mates Romance, Book 4 in the Ruthless Warlords series.
*Please note: This prequel ends on a cliffhanger. The main book ends with a HEA.
This will not surprise those of you who know the Enforcer and family hothead, Damien Skolov. His anger (and pining) over something—or, more specifically, someone—has burned molten hot for four long planetary rotations. Now, you get to find out why Damien is the way he is—and like him, it’s INTENSE.
(Oh, and because I’ve gotten questions about this, I also want to add that a lunar rotation is most similar to an Earth day, a planetary rotation similar to an Earth year.)
Happy reading.
xoxo,
Alison
THE ALPHAVERSE
This story takes place in Anarcheim, a parallel Alphaverse galaxy in a dark future seeded with varied forms of alien life. There are two immutable constants. The first is that all inhabitants are Alpha, beta, or omega. Alphas lead, betas serve, and omegas submit. That is the way. The second is that violence is a way of life, power is essential to survival, and crime is king.
Heroes are not born, they are made…
and sometimes their making is brutal, filthy, and ruthless.
1
“You getting those panties filthy wet for me, wild thing?” Damien’s whispered rasp sent gooseflesh rippling across Scarlett’s skin. “I want that lucky little toy to prime that pussy. To make you a slick, creamy mess between those gorgeous thighs. The kind I can’t wait to lick clean.”
His words were as potent as the flat, clear rod vibrating between her clit and the puckered rosebud of her bottom, its slight pulses pure ecstasy—and pure torment.
Damien’s gift to her, held in place by gentle suctions that only intensified her pleasure, was a top-of-the-line sex toy from his home planet, and her new favorite transgression.
She stifled a moan.
The consortium positioned her display case high on the raised stage at one end of the oval-shaped stadium, a golden stool beneath her and a glittering golden curtain at her back. While the shimmering curtain hid the sterile wall behind it and a functional doorway, the other three clear walls and the transparent ceiling fit with the message her handlers wanted to convey: she was the ultimate prize, a trophy just out of reach, there to motivate the fighters and fuel their aggression while discouraging them from coming near.
And no one usually dared.
Except for Damien.
He stood in the concealed doorway, hidden from the others by the curtain. Her perfect, filthy secret. Her risk and her rebellion. Her everything.
“Such a good fucking girl.” He slipped a single finger through the curtain and trailed it down the nape of her neck.
She shivered with need, fingers curling around the edge of her stool.
Reckless. So damned reckless.
If caught, there would be hells to pay.
But Goddess help her, she lived for his touch.
Buzz. The toy’s pulses intensified.
Another flutter of the curtain. Another low rasp. “Press those pretty thighs together and try not to squirm, sweet Scarlett.”
A purr escaped. Most called her the prize. Or simply referred to her as consortium property. Every time Damien said her name, a lost part of her found its way back.
“That’s right, beautiful. So good. Soon, I’m going to reward you.”
She wanted that reward. Needed more of his sweet, filthy praise.
The urge to shift from her position was overwhelming.
But that would be an absolute disaster, and not just for her.
Her gaze flicked below to her primary handler, consortium personnel Egan Avitus. He held court on the training arena floor, his back to her, his silver hair as shiny as the coins he loved so much. Pit boss, showman, tournament organizer, and director of prizes and fighters, Egan Avitus’s power was extensive. Over her, it was absolute.
Her brother Luc stood next to Egan. His recent promotion to high trainer had earned him a coveted spot up close to the action, but it also meant proximity to monsters like Egan. Both their spines were ramrod straight as they surveyed the rows of eager warriors from across the galaxy sparring on the floor mats.
The training facility was as well-built and extravagant as all consortium ventures, a soaring, open space with three visible levels that narrowed toward the top. Encircling the edges of the oval space, the lowest, widest ring was filled with training mats, equipment and observation areas. The second ring burst out of the center of the ground level. A raised fighting platform only slightly above the bottom floor, it split into sections to accommodate least fifty fighting matches at once. The third ring, her current level, was the smallest, filled with viewing platforms and private seating rooms for special clients.
Most of the action at the moment was on the ground level where the fighters had gathered, all stretching or sparring as they waited for the next round of matches to begin. There were Alphas with horns, wings, plates, spikes, tusks, and tails. Their skin, scales, and exoskeletons in colors as varied as the stars in the Anarcheim galaxy. The one commonality: all were huge, fierce, and determined to win the tournament.
A slew of equally diverse-looking security, trainers, investors, lower-level consortium members, and omega groupies crowded behind the fighters, huddling as close to the action as possible, their excitement palpable.
The final major group in the facility were several Brotherhood Alphas, cordoned off in the exclusive ground floor VIP area. Their membership in the most powerful, ruthless crime organization in the galaxy ensured them a prime viewing spot. Most were here to cheer on the fighters they’d sponsored or get an early peek at who to bet on in the final rounds of the tournament.
Thank the Goddess, all Alphas who entered the arena were required to wear scent masks. Otherwise, they’d all know what a mess Damien was making of her panties.
“Fighters, to the second level.” Egan Avitus’s voice rang out, making her sit up straighter. “You might have survived to round four of the tournament, but if you want to make it to the main event, don’t shame yourself by being eliminated here.”
Fear whispered through her. “Damien—”
“You look so fuckable right now.” She knew he was purposely distracting her. Soothing her, even as he reminded them both to whom she already belonged. “I don’t even have to see you to know you’ve got that slight flush on your gorgeous face, the one you only get from my touch. The one that says you’re all mine.”
Her breathing hitched.
That was all she wanted. To be seen. Touched. To be his.
“Don’t worry, beautiful. I’ve got this.” There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt. Just one hundred percent pure confidence. Like always. “No one is taking you from me. I am going to make it through every trial, win this fucking tournament, and make you Scarlett Skolov.”
Hope, painful and jagged, twisted through her, but she clutched onto it all the same.
She’d resisted as long as she could, but there was something about Damien Skolov.
He’d barreled past all her excuses and made every obstacle appear inconsequential in the face of what flared between them.
It didn’t matter that he was too young for her, or that there were hundreds of other fighters here to win the same fight, or that other warriors were bigger and more experienced, or that the consortium had already chosen their favorites to win.
Damien Skolov made her believe.
He made her feel alive.
To him, she wasn’t some glittering virginal prize, but the wild, reckless creature inside—and he welcomed it, pushing her to be as fierce and fearless and filthy as he.
“Those fuckers might not know you’re mine yet, but you are.” As was often the case, Damien’s thoughts echoed hers. “In just one more lunar rotation, I am going to win this tournament, become the greatest fighter this galaxy has ever seen, and claim not just that sweet pussy, but your clever brain and brave heart.”
A small semblance of self-preservation raised its head, cutting through her lust and raw, wild adoration. “But what if—”
Buzz. The vibrations increased.
She bucked, her spine arcing, her mouth opening. The pleasure inside her coiled tighter.
“D-Damien…” His name was a plea.
“You. Are. Mine.” His growl was near feral. “Fuck the consortium and fuck their favorites. I want Scarlett of the consortium for
The giddy sensation inside her chest expanded—along with the pleasure cresting between her thighs.
With him, she didn’t have to pretend to be perfect or polished or serene: a pretty, untouched trophy on display in a crystal glass case.
With him, she could be craven. Coarse. Carnal.
Dirty.
Her true self.
Her hunger for him was insatiable.
And it wasn’t just her body that recognized him as hers. Her heart called out for him as well.
“And when those fuckers tell you it’s time for their little sales pitch on this stage, we both know who you’ll be thinking of. Who you’ll be performing for. We both have our role to play, baby. But we’re a fucking team—and they won’t break us. We’ll have it all very soon.”
“Yes.” She barely moved her lips, but she wanted him to hear every word. “Only for you. Every move I make, for you.”
A growl of primal possession rumbled at her back.
“Meet me again tonight.”
Panic and excitement flooded through her in equal measure.
Did she dare? The more times they met, the greater the risk.
“Damien, I—” She could barely think. Her body was so close to the edge. Ready to soar. Ready to—
“Uh-uh.”
The vibrations slowed to a faint, teasing pulse. He’d stopped her from coming.
A growl of fury sprang unbidden from her chest.
Damien chuckled. “There’s that spirit, wild thing.”
Pride swept through her. He liked her uncensored. He liked her real. With him, submission didn’t mean doll-like docility.
“You want to come? It won’t be from a fucking toy.” The possession and jealousy in his tone made her heart take flight. “That’s just a primer. It will be on my tongue, my fingers, and my cock. It will be when you tell me I am yours and you’re mine.” He didn’t hesitate. “Meet me after I win my matches. Our special place. We’ll celebrate the fact that we’re one step closer to you being mine.”
He was gone before she could protest. Or wish him luck.
She pressed her legs together and tried to stay annoyed. But she couldn’t. Though she kept her lips in a firm line, her expression serene on the outside, a slow smile formed inside her.
She liked their games.
She enjoyed the anticipation and the delayed pleasure, the certainty that he was hard and wanting—and that he wouldn’t do anything about it until they were together.
Damien was disciplined and loyal. He never once looked at the omega prostitutes or prizes-in-training forced to prance around the ring in the same kind of flimsy outfits she was required to wear.
His focus never wavered from her.
And she loved the strength of his desire. He’d use whatever it took to push her over the edge and bring her to him.
She released a slow exhale, loosening her hold on the edge of the stool, surrendering to the heat rushing through her veins each time the toy pulsed.
She knew it wasn’t the only surrender she’d make this rotation.
She would meet Damien Skolov at their special place and, despite her fears, she would tell him exactly what he wanted to hear.
Not because she was desperate to come—though there was that too—but because she was desperate to be his. No matter the cost.
With a quick glance, she ensured Egan Avitus and the rest of his consortium partners were still focused on the fighters. Then she lifted her gaze from the stage floor and surveyed the throng of fighters below.
All hopeful. All determined.
All fodder for the real winners of the tournament: the consortium itself. The company earned more from tournament ticket sales, sponsorships, and bets placed than any one fighter ever could. And all the consortium had to do for such profits was steal the lives of so many, including her own.
But thanks to Damien, for the first time in forever, she had hope she might get her life back and be more than a commodity. More than a pretty pet commanded to perform. More than a shiny prize to be won.
The wild thrumming in her veins and between her legs surged as Damien’s beautiful red skin, curling black horns, and wide shoulders appeared in the crowd below.
Some might have noticed his absence, but they’d never suspect where he’d been. A few careful bribes to the right guards—money was everything in this town—had bought their silences and made it possible for Damien to use the crumbling underground passageways of the old city to evade the watchful eyes of the consortium and her guards.
Just in time, too.
“Prize, rise!” Egan snapped his finger, his purple cape billowing behind him as his leer burned into her exposed skin.
2
Though every part of Scarlett rebelled at following Egan’s command, she did.
She’d long ago learned the cost of outright resistance. But that didn’t mean she was playing solely by the consortium’s rules anymore.
Damien was here now, and soon everything would be different.
She only needed to be patient for a little while longer.
Gliding from her stool, she moved to the front of her glass cage. Egan insisted on this positioning since it was the best place for the fighters below to view her—and the ideal angle for the cameras to project her image onto the massive, shuttle-size vid screens outside the fighting arena. The consortium was serious about its advertising. Flashing screens hawking every type of vice and entertainment dominated the golden skyline, and none was more lucrative than this tournament.
“We will begin the next round shortly.” Egan Avitus’s voice rang out once more. “But before we do… a little incentive.”
Resignation tightened Scarlett’s belly.
Head bowed, arms stretched overhead, wrists crossed, she assumed her expected position as the lights in the arena dimmed and the stage spotlight strengthened. Her stance lifted the top of her gown and bared her midriff to everyone below.
She knew what they saw. A willowy omega with shimmering golden skin in a clear cage, her golden hair streaked wine-red, brushed to a sheen so it fell in waves to her mid-back. Golden cuffs imprinted with the consortium label encircling her wrists and throat while a sheer gold and red top accented her full breasts, and a matching skirt sat low on her hips and draped to the floor. Every inch of her was done up like a doll, posed for others’ viewing pleasure.
To the consortium, profit was everything—sex and violence the key to fueling their greed.
The stadium announcer boomed, “Warriors, you all know the extraordinary wealth that awaits the tournament victor. But remember, there is another trophy to be won. A prize that can bring an Alpha even greater pleasure.”
Below, she saw Egan nod.
Her signal to begin.
Music swelled from the speakers.
Wrists rotating, she slid one foot in front of the other, let her thigh peek from the high slit in her gown, and—Damien’s face in her mind, his words held close to her heart, the toy he’d given her sending small pleasant pulses to her core—did as commanded, letting her omega gift rise to the surface as the music swelled.
While most omegas lost their gifts by adolescence, hers had remained, saving her from a life as one of the consortium prostitutes that worked the city bars and fighting tournaments, but condemning her to an existence as one of its prizes—a pretty, performing pet.
Iridescent hues shimmered across her body, sliding sensuously over her thighs and up her stomach. They reflected off the crystal of her cage, sparkling colors that flashed and swirled in time to the music.
Murmurs rose. Waves of lust hit her from the audience. She ignored them and thought only of Damien.
Of the way her gift grew brighter, warmer, more substantial, each time they met at their secret place and he touched her, vivid colors dancing across the walls as he held her down and made her scream his name.
