Trigger warning: The following chapter contains scenes of r**e and violence, which may be triggering for some survivors. Reader’s discretion is advised.
It was three a.m. and Bellinor’s eyelids flung open, but his orbs glowed a frightening shade of amethyst, meaning Draven was in control. He got up and stealthily proceeded to his treasure’s room, like a silent shadow. His heart fluttered excitedly as he saw his sleeping beauty.
“It has been a few days since you accepted us, my princess,” he murmured in somewhat of a trance. “I must confess, my patience is gradually withering away. How I hunger for you, my scarlet damsel. Though I may possess your luscious wolf, I am a greedy entity with a dire appetite.”
Draven carefully sat beside his desire, becoming more enrapt by Alinta’s splendo
