GORVANE'S POV~~
Why couldn't I break her? Why did she act like my monster hadn't thrusted inside her little hole? Every other hollow I had touched had turned to dust beneath my claws, just because of our encounter.
But not her. Why?
When Narkhul had told me it was the Alpha's daughter who was enslaved this time…the rage that burned in my heart just wanted to tear her apart. I wanted to taste the marrow of her soul.
My fingers clenched around the heavy brocade of my tunic, the intricate silver thread cool against my skin.
They draped a heavy cloak across my shoulders, each layer of black velvet and bone-stitched fur. The cold iron crown pressed against my brow.
My breath curled in the chill of the chamber, each exhale rising like smoke.
Even as the Woundmaidens flitted around me as they worked in silence, my thoughts were a storm.
Kaerith. I knew her name.
I closed my eyes, breathing deep, feeling an itch on my skin as the Woundmaidens fastened the clasp of my cloak. My claws twitched under the bone rings of my gauntlets.
The Woundmaidens stepped back, their heads bowed low. "My king," one of them murmured.
"Leave." I ordered the wound maidens.
Their cold fingers tracing every line of the royal robes, brushing away invincible dust. Then, they bowed, taking a few steps backwards as they dispersed out of the chambers.
Darkness wrapped around me, as my thoughts churned, all centered on Kaerith. Kaerith.
I wanted to watch her more. The way her eyes burned with defiance even when she trembled. The way her lips pressed together when she was meant to scream. The way she hid her fear behind a fragile mask.
She haunted my mind, a constant presence I couldn't shake. I had broken countless souls, fed on their fears, yet she remained like I hadn't touched.
Her soul mocked me. The spirit from the descendant of the alpha who betrayed me. This pissed me off the most.
Why couldn't I consume her as I did to the others?
I saw the fear in her eyes, but she didn't let it consume her. Instead, it fueled her strength. From the shadows, I've watched her.
I knew a day like this would come and I've waited for it. Patiently. I visited her dreams quite often.
Now it's here and the girl I thought I'd break had endured the branding, and shattered the crystal. What made her different?
She was a flicker of light in a world of rot and bone. It infuriated me. Her fear fed me—yes—but it wasn't enough. I wanted her to shatter like the others. But, she didn't beg. She didn't weep. And it drove me mad.
I grasped my cloak, pacing in the darkness of my chamber. Her voice rang clear in my head, even when she spoke no words other than responding to my questions.
The one time she pleaded…and screamed, it felt surreal. But, she stopped almost immediately. Now, I regretted not shredding her into the tiniest pieces.
"Why do you resist?" My claws scraped along the stone, gouging lines deep into the bone walls.
Why?
I had seen it in her eyes that day. The way she stared at me.
When I touched her, my hands on her hips, the scent of her fear was thick in the air. The way she had writhed beneath me, and how the walls of the vine bed had trembled.
I consumed everything she was meant to give. Her body…her mind…her fear. And yet, she did not die.
She looked at me like she wanted to tear the world down around us.
It was Velcira who rushed to me with a pale face in the flickering torchlight. Her voice was straight. "She moved, my king," she paused. "How's that possible?"
Why does she still breathe? The question rattled in my skull. How was it possible that she bore all the pain?
That was when my hunger shifted.
No longer did I want to consume her like I had the others. No, I wanted to know her and peel back every layer, every secret, every trauma just to see what made her spirit so unyielding.
The thought of it made my gut twist.
I wanted to taste that last breath on her lips. I wanted to watch the fire that left her eyes slowly, and painfully. But more than that, I wanted to know why it burned so bright in the first place.
This… possession of mine was evolving. It was no longer the simple hunger to consume, to dominate. It was morphing into something more complex, and insistent. An obsession. I needed to understand Kaerith, and unravel the enigma she presented.
Turning to the mirror of polished obsidian that hung on the wall. My reflection was a shadow, a blur of darkness and bone. My eyes, black as the void, met my own stare. I did not recognize the man in the glass. I had not for centuries.
A knock on my chamber door interrupted the relentless cycle of my thoughts.
"Enter," I growled.
The iron door swung open, and Narkhul stepped in. His massive form filled the doorway, chains wrapped around his arms. He bowed low, his breath fogging in the cold air.
I turned from the mirror, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "Speak."
"My Lord," he began, his voice carefully measured, "there is a…discrepancy in the western territories regarding the tithe payment. The weavers demand an audience claiming a shortage due to the recent…"
He trailed off, sensing my lack of attention. The details of shadowsilk and territorial disputes, usually matters I oversaw with meticulous precision, were now meaningless static against the insolence of Kaerith in my mind.
The issue, I knew, was likely a simple matter of logistics, easily resolved by a flick of my wrist and a few well-chosen words.
It was a petty thing, nothing that really needed me. Narkhul could have crushed the weavers with a word. My kingdom ran on blood and bone, not coin. But still, he had come to me.
My patience wore thin. My thoughts were already slipping back to Kaerith, to the feel of her skin, the taste of her breath. At this moment, the petty disputes, the weavers' demands and the taxes meant nothing to me.
"Handle it," My voice echoed, as I clenched my fist. "Burn them alive if they won't leave."
Narkhul nodded,"Of course, my King. I will immediately see to it." He hesitated, his gaze flickering over my tightly clenched fists. "Is… everything okay, my King?"
"Leave!" A growl rumbled in my chest as I dismissed him with a wave of hand.
As I turned, facing the mirror, I felt a pull. Then a scent in the air, it was so faint I couldn't notice it. But soon, I caught onto it.
My senses were sharpened to every breath, every heartbeat in this Kingdom.
Kaerith. It was the scent of her fear, calling to me.
The image of Kaerith's gaze burned behind my eyelids. Her scent clung to the air, as a restless energy pulsed through me, a feeling that something was wrong.
A feeling that the balance of my world had been irrevocably disrupted.
My cloak dragged behind me as I twirled around and stepped past Narkhul without a word, following the scent.
The scent was faint, yet it pulled me with an irresistible force. It led me down the halls, past the corridors and hushed whispers of my servants, past the bone arches and flickering torches, and towards the less frequented depths of the citadel— the fleshsmith hall.
I moved like a shadow drawn by an invisible thread that connected me to Kaerith past the stench of blood, concoctions and old magic that clung to the walls.
I stood and watched through the crack in the heavy doors. Vythea stood there, her hair cascaded down her back as she argued with Velcira, her voice venomous. Rhazien lounged beside her, his ruined face twisted in amusement.
Vythea and Rhazien argued over Kaerith's fate, their voices sharp and filled with malice like they had no idea she belonged to me.
How dare they?
Vythea wanted Kaerith's blood to be spilled and Rhazien laughed about it. I just watched, not making a move.
My eyes darted to Kaerith as she laid on the mattress, her wrists bound in chains. She stared at the ceiling, her eyes empty. I could see her fear in the way her fingers twitched, the way her jaw clenched.
Vythea spat. "She must be killed, or she will poison the king's will. She is an abomination."
Velcira shook her head. "The king wants her aliv—"
"She is a danger!" Vythea hissed. "I will end it now."
She drew the dagger from her belt, the blade catching the rays of dimmed sunlight. She stepped forward, her hand steady as she raised the dagger, aiming for Kaerith's heart.
I stepped out of the shadows, bursting the doors open, and slamming it against the wall.