Chapter One

Berkshire, a small city in the heart of England sharing borders with the werewolf and vampire Kingdoms.

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In the town of Berkshire is located the liveliest brothel housing the finest girls nature is yet to bestow on mankind, drawing from the three territories that made up this world; humans, werewolves, and vampires, men of lascivious intent to satisfy their carnal desires from the willing skirts of these comely beauties.

From inside the brothel downstairs where the club is located, loud music blasted resonating through the little town as the girls danced, teased, and beckoned for the attention of the lost men as they drooled after the girls, begging with their eyes to catch a glimpse of what lay beneath their skimpy drawers.

In one of the rooms upstairs of the enormous aged building, Eleanor Macbeth, the best stripper in Berkshire metropolis that stripped in the club, was preparing to go down for the evening for her much-demanded performance.

She sat in front of the mirror, her flaming red hair cascading down her back as her sharp bulgy blue eyes depressively took in her half-clad body and dared herself to be bold; like a mantra, as she does every day before her stripping performance. It was nothing new, yet, it has never ceased to overwhelm her.

She thought of the way the men trailed their lusty sights over her body, their hands latched to every part of her private parts, yearning for the one thing she wasn't willing to give to them. She was supposed to be used to it by now, yet, once it was this hour, a few minutes before the time when the knock came for her summons, she grew frosty, agitated, disgusted with herself, still, unable to do anything about it.

Her eyes fell from her body to her hands which quivered, and twined them together to steady them, gritted her teeth, and stood up, unable to bear looking at herself anymore.

Then the knock came.

"Come in," she said and bent to pick up her tall heels from the floor without looking up, already knowing who was there.

"Eleanor?"

Her eyes flew up at the voice of Ostridge, the girl that served Ambrose the owner of the brothel, in wonder of what she was doing here instead of the girl that usually summoned her for her performance every day. "He wants to see you," the girl said, jutting her head backward to refer to Ambrose.

"It's almost time." Eleanor stood to her full five-feet-five-height and looked at the clock in uneasiness.

The girl's shoulders bobbed, still leaning across the oak door and sticking her head inside from outside. "It seems urgent."

Eleanor's eyes fell to the shoe in her hands, and without knowing why, her heartbeat escalated. She didn't favor being summoned by Ambrose at all. It always doesn't bode well. The last time he called her like this, it was to send her off to a stupid festival in the werewolf kingdom where she was...

She faltered in her thought, refusing to complete it. Each time she thought of it, it does nothing but mar her emotion, and marred emotions are the least of what she needed before going to her employer.

Or a performance.

"Fine." She threw the heels to the side in irritation and took the bedraggled woolly gown from the chaise lounge by the side of the wall to shove down her head, wore her slippers, and hurried after the girl.

They walked down the dim-lit foyer until they arrived at an intersection that disappeared in two different adjacent directions, hence ambling in the right direction that led towards Ambrose's office.

When they reached the third door boldly written 'ADMINISTRATION' at the lintel, the girl rapped her knuckles once and waited until they heard a stern rumble from within, and she turned the doorknob and pushed the door in to tell Ambrose Eleanor was here.

"Let her in and wait outside," His timbre familiar voice resounded within the walls following the girl's exit to step aside for Eleanor to go in.

Eleanor took a steady breath, growing uncomfortable with every minute that expired. It wasn't every day that they came face to face with Ambrose as he was feared as much as he was revered here. So, when he summons you, get ready for your mind to be blown away.

He was standing with his back to her speaking to someone on the phone but at him sensing her presence, he merely grazed her with a brief glance and went on with his call.

Done, he twisted about from looking outside the window overlooking the mountains_the boundary they shared with the Vampires, and looked at her. "You have a job, stripper." he went straight to the point.

Eleanor’s heart lurched. She opened her mouth to ask ‘where’ but he cut her off with his right hand lifted, walking closer with his strange opaque shade of eyes sending icy blisters spreading through her body. They often offset her and made her feel unclothed and helpless. "Words just arrived that the Alpha King to the werewolves would be celebrating his 35th birthday this weekend and his companions desire to surprise him with a human stripper of the best grade, and they have reached out to me." His eyes said it all even before he finished by saying, "I have chosen you to go there."

I knew it! No! Eleanor shook her head vigorously, her heart starting to hammer, causing her to stagger back. "I-I can't go there, Ambrose," She stuttered, looking everywhere but at him. That alone might slay her. "Please, I can't go there. Remember the last time! What if they kill me?! Please, don't make me go there!” She panicked in fear, grabbing her chest as images of her experience there the last time flashed before her eyes.

She was already shaking in trepidation when she sensed his movement and hastily lifted her agitated eyes. His face was a mask of death as his eyes spit fire at her. As she made to step away, he seized her by the neck and smacked her back on the wall beside her, his lips shifting to the side in a snarl to say, "you will never dare refuse me! And you shall do whatever I order you to, you wretch! How dare you?!"

"S-sto-p-ppp!" She tapped his hand repeatedly, gasping for breath as her lungs constricted from lack of air. "Amb...." He tossed her to the side like a sack of garbage and beat his hands together to rid them of her essence, striding back to his desk whilst she struggled to regain her breath on the floor where she was still sprawled.

"Forget about today's performance. You will go home now, girl, and you will be here at exactly five by dusk tomorrow." he sat in the creaky chair and faced her, challenging her to disagree once more which she knew she had no guts to do but could only stare wide eyes at him, not believing he would do this.

He knew her past_everything about her, starting from when he rescued her from a group of street mops who tried to lynch her for stealing from a roadside merchant. Ever since then, her life has not been hers nor has it been the same. "Ambrose, please! You can't do_"

"Get the fuck out of my presence and go prepare to make me a fortune, girl!" He slammed his left hand on the desk, destabilizing the objects on top of it.

Such a foul-tempered brute!

Eleanor hurried from the ground and dusted her ass, threw Ambrose a murderous glare and opened the door, almost running into Ostridge who had been eavesdropping.

The girl looked down immediately, embarrassed at being caught red-handed. Eleanor merely eyed her and dashed past her ( that was the least of her worry). She has to think about this. That place was a jungle, a death trip indeed!

And the Alpha King? She has heard of how ruthless and unmerciful he is to humans. From the little she has heard about him, nobody deserves to meet face-to-face with such a monster!

There is no way she is going to survive this, not when those deadly creatures were involved.

…