Chapter 4
1108 Words
Lucian's POV
“Where. Is she…”
No one responded, everyone’s head was bowed, they were all trembling.
“Where is my slave?” I yelled, but no one spoke. I didn't know why I was getting furious, but the rage inside of me I couldn't control.
“My King,” Veronica's poisonous voice came from behind me. “You just came from a three days’ journey, you should be resting, not looking for a worthless slave.” She placed a hand on me seductively. “Come, let me show you a good time.”
“Veronica, get your filthy hands off me.”
She looked confused, but she did as told.
I was more than confused at my reaction too, but that didn't matter right now. I had to find her.
“She’s just some slave. What’s so important about her?”
I just looked at Veronica, but she refused to meet my gaze.
“Where is she?”
“Where’s who?” She acted confused pretending not to know who I was talking about.
“Where is Seraphina, Veronica? Don't make me ask again.”
Veronica flinched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, voice quieter now, less venom, more caution. “She was just a witch... a prisoner. They took her to the dungeons. Maybe she’s still there.”
I clenched my jaw. “On whose command?”
She paused before saying, “I was the one.”
I didn't wait to hear more. My boots thundered against the marble floors. “No one leaves including you, Veronica,” I said before leaving. My warriors scrambled to follow behind me.
The dungeons reeked of damp stone and blood. I'd felt drawn to her in a way I couldn't explain. After the day she was brought in by the witches, I'd never stopped feeding that strange connection.
“Open it,” I ordered when we got to the cell she was in.
“Sire, I... I don't think—”
“Open it.”
The lock clicked with trembling fingers, and the heavy door groaned open.
And there she was, on the ground, half alive. She wasn't moving, but I heard her heart beating faintly.
Without hesitation, I quickly picked her up like she weighed nothing.
I carried her to my chambers and placed her on the bed. She was filthy covered in dirt.
I sat on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, my arms still tingling from holding her. Why did this feel so... personal? So urgent?
I stared at her, the rage in my chest now replaced by something else. Something far more dangerous.
Obsession.
I didn’t understand why I burned for a witch I barely knew. Why her scent lingered in my thoughts like smoke. Why the dream I had on the journey back... was about her.
She was barely conscious, bruised, dirt clinging to her skin, lips cracked and she looked starved.
I brushed a strand of damp hair from her face.
“Why do you haunt me?”
I'd seen slaves beaten, broken. I'd seen witches burned. I never blinked. But this... this was different. Every wound on her body felt like a lash to my own soul.
“Get the healer,” I growled at the guard behind me.
He bowed and rushed off without a word.
I turned back to her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. She murmured something in her sleep, barely a whisper.
My name?
No. It couldn't be.
I leaned in, my ears catching the faintest sound from her lips.
“Mate...”
My body stiffened.
What?
I stood up abruptly, heart pounding in my chest. No... That couldn’t be. Witches don’t get mates. It was impossible.
And yet...
She stirred, her head rolling slightly as she groaned. I could feel it again, that same pull I’d felt the moment she stood in front of me in chains. Back then, I thought it was curiosity. Maybe pity.
But now?
Now, I didn’t know.
The door burst open, and the healer rushed in with two assistants behind her. I stepped aside, motioning toward her.
“Save her,” I ordered, voice cold but urgent.
The old healer hesitated for just a second, her eyes flicking to her before bowing deeply. “Yes, my King.”
As they worked, I stepped to the window, staring out into the growing night.
Why did I feel like I lost her… I’d lose everything?
After a while, the healer walked up to me. “Is she going to be fine?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. She’s just passed out, feverish, and she lacks food. But I've given her something. She’ll be up in a couple of hours.”
“You may leave.” She bowed before heading out the door. I watched her for a while before leaving my chambers.
I sat on my throne, every servant’s head bowed.
“Veronica, who gave you permission to make decisions in my palace?”
“I’m... I’m... sorry... I... I thought—”
“You thought what?” I cut her off.
“You don’t. You don't touch my playthings. How many times do I have to tell you?” I said, getting off my throne and walking toward her. No one dared speak.
She slowly moved back, but I grabbed her neck, lifting her off the ground with one hand. She used both her hands to try and move mine, hitting it and trying to apologize, but I kept tightening it until she was almost losing consciousness.
She fell to the ground, gasping for breath, hands on her neck.
“The next time you think, you won’t live to tell the tale. That’s a promise.”
Veronica coughed violently on the floor, her hands trembling as she clawed at her bruised throat. No one moved to help her. They all knew better.
The silence in the throne room was suffocating. My rage still simmered beneath the surface, but it was no longer about her. It was about the girl lying in my bed.
Seraphina.
“Who were the guards who took her to the dungeon?”
No one came out the first few seconds. Then two guards hesitantly walked toward me.
They both fell to their knees, pleading, but I didn't hesitate. I snapped both their necks and they fell to the ground.
“Everyone gets out.”
How could a witch, one who should disgust me, one whose coven was responsible for the death of my mate, whose very blood should make my skin crawl, stir this kind of madness in me?
- Writer
