The Vampires Torment

Chapter Thirteen

The words, “Abducted f*****g reject,” play over and over inside my head like a broken record. Each repetition sends a fresh wave of pain through my chest, making my heart feel like shattered glass lodged inside me.

I feel broken and done. My emotions are spiraling out of control, leaving me overwhelmed with fear. I’ve never been this terrified in my life. Every part of my body hurts: my arms, my legs, my hands, and my feet feel like dead weight, dragging me down.

I close my eyes and force myself to deal with the pain. In my time of weakness, I must show strength. That's what my family would want. They would want me to be strong.

I’m a Blackwood Wolf. We are brave. We are the strongest among our kind. My family says that all the time. So, why do I feel so weak?

And why can’t I stop the tears from rolling down my face? I don’t want to eat, speak, or sleep. All I can do is sit here and cry, asking myself why. Why me? Visions of my loved ones' faces start to surface. All of my memories! All of them are now nothing but history.

How did I get myself into this mess? How? I just need to lie down. I need to calm myself, cry, and lie down. That’s exactly what I do. I lie down, continue to cry my heart out, and question myself for the only goddess knows how long.

Eventually, I come to the conclusion that it may be in my best interest to at least try to make the best out of my situation. There is no point in continuously crying over spilled milk. I lost my family, but I still have my mate, even if he doesn’t want me. I still want him. Obviously, I’m insane because I still want him. He rejected me, but he is my mate. Who wants half of a soul when you can have a whole?

He’s all I have now. Cyrus may not want me right now, but he will come around eventually. We are destined to be together. We will work it out. I just have to believe in that.

I got a strange feeling that Cyrus's feelings don’t match his hurtful words. Cyrus just needs some time. Call me crazy if you must, but that’s how I feel. He’s not made out of glass like I am, but I can see right through him.

He’s just angry. Werewolves and vampires are strangely more alike than they would like to believe. We’re all hurt, and hurt people hurt people.

Cyrus may be a big and bad vampire king, but he is still a person. Underneath his tough exterior lies a man with a story. We all have a story, and I’m set on figuring out his. I’m almost certain that his hatred for my species stems from some type of loss and deeply influenced pain.

He needs someone to love and understand him. I’ll be that person. I’ll be his solace. I put that on my life that I’ll give him the balance that he needs. He just has to let me in. He needs me.

Eventually, I decide to pull myself together. I sit up straight, pull my legs towards my chest, place my chin on top of my knees, and wait for him. Tears still spill here and there, but for the most part, I’m fine. It will be alright. Everything will be okay.

After every struggle comes a blessing. Cyrus is my blessing. Hopefully, in due time, he shall feel the same way about me.

I just need to put my big girl panties on and focus on him. By the time he reenters the room, carrying a tray of food in his hand, my tears are all dried out, my mind is made up, and my head automatically lifts.

The mingled spices and mouthwatering flavors invade my senses, causing my stomach to grumble.

“I thought you weren’t hungry,” Cyrus says, placing the tray full of food down onto the nightstand beside the bed.

“I’m not,” I lie, but my stomach betrays me with another grumble.

Cyrus’s handsome face lights up, I think. But then again, I’m not really sure because the light disappears quicker than a firefly’s glow.

“You’re a terrible liar, Seraphina,” Cyrus recites the words I’ve now grown used to hearing. “Here, try this,” he says, picking up a plate of pasta and placing it down onto the bed directly in front of me. “I hope you like pasta. I ordered the cook to whip you up something quick.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, trying my hardest not to look at the delicious-smelling pasta on the plate.

If I look, I’ll indulge, and if I indulge, I know for a fact that I will simply devour the meal.

I can’t do that. Cyrus is a King, meaning he needs a Queen. Queens don’t eat like savages.

“Says who?” I can almost hear my wolf growl inside my head. She’s such a beast.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Cyrus says, regaining my attention. “Now eat!”

My wolf howls within me because of his command. She believes that our mate demanding for us to eat means that he cares about our health. I’d be a big fat liar if I said that my wolf and my human side’s opinion in this matter wasn’t neutral.

It makes me feel all warm and bubbly inside that my mate is demanding that I eat.

I use my free hand to put my first forkful of pasta inside my mouth. The meaty tomato and basil-based pasta is so good I moan from the taste. I try to take my time.

I swear that I’m attempting to chew before swallowing, but I can’t help but swallow and slurp. Almost instantly, it becomes harder and harder for me to mind my manners.

Completely out of my control, I start to devour the meal like a famished dog. It takes me less than three minutes to finish my helpings.

Mm! Mm... Good!

My eyes nearly pop out of my sockets when I realize that Cyrus is sitting in one of the black leather seats in the center of the room, doing nothing other than watching me. I was so focused on the food. My little Miss Uppity Queen act has become an epic fail.

Now granted, I’m sitting on a bed in chains. But still, I could have at least attempted to show him that I can demonstrate proper table manners. Oh, the embarrassment! He must think that I’m some sort of pig.

“Would you like some more? You’re welcome to have seconds,” Cyrus says, confirming my suspicion. It’s official. My mate believes that he is mated to a pig.

“No thank you,” I tell him, lowering my head to hide my embarrassment.

“Very well then,” Cyrus says, standing to his feet and making his way back over towards the bed. “Now that you’re awake and well-fed, we have a few rules to discuss that you must agree to follow before I remove your chains. Rule number one—”

My eyes flicker down to the chains and my new attire as I listen to him speak. That reminds me. “Did you change my clothes?” I blurt out, lifting my eyes to Cyrus, absentmindedly cutting him off mid-sentence.

He growls in response, immediately making me realize my mistake. He was speaking, and I so rudely cut him off.

I swear I didn’t mean to. It’s like my mouth has a mind of its own. The words just rolled off my tongue. Great! Now he believes I am a pig and rude. A rude pig!

“My apologies,” I deeply express my regret. “I don’t know what has gotten into me. I suppose my curiosity just got the best of me. I can ensure you that I’m not always this rude.”

“Sure you’re not,” sarcastically responds my mate. “Anyway, if you really care to know, yes! I did change your clothes,” Cyrus surprisingly admits, placing his hand behind his back. “I also bathed you while you were sleeping and helped you rinse out your mouth with warm water and a cinnamon stick.”

“Thank you,” is all I can say. My wolf is also satisfied with our mate’s actions. That’s the way it is supposed to be in our eyes. My body was created for his eyes only, despite his lack of feelings for me.

Plus, it provides me with some slight comfort knowing that my mate cared enough to take care of me when I was unable to take care of myself.

“There is no need to thank me,” Cyrus says, refusing to take credit for anything nice. “It was more for my bed's benefit than yours. I couldn’t have your vomit all over my sheets.”

“I understand,” I admit, re-lowering my head. “Still, I want to thank you. You didn’t have to do that. So, thank you again,” my voice is nothing but a whisper.

I can feel the intensity of his stare raking over my body from head to toe. His stare feels like the radiant heat that illuminates from the sun. It warms me. A moment of silence passes between us, and I can still feel his stare on me.

“Back to the rules,” Cyrus's voice breaks the silence. “Rule number one: when it comes to you, my name is Sire or Your Highness. I expect to be properly addressed in private and in the presence of others.”

“I have you know now that I’m big on following the rules,” Cyrus continues. “As my chosen, you will be expected to spend a fair amount of your time in my presence. Never forget that I’m big on rules.”

What is a chosen? I remember him saying that I was his chosen and not his mate.

“What

’s a chosen?” I wonder out loud, feeling like a little kid asking a parent too many questions.

Cyrus sighs deeply and rubs his fingers across his temples, probably mentally scolding himself for not foreseeing such an annoying situation.

“A chosen,” Cyrus explains. “Is a suitable partner for an unmated royal. You see, royals are allowed to take on a chosen when their mate has not been revealed. A chosen helps us sustain a suitable image and remain focused on our daily tasks. The relationship is far from emotional and lacks the intimacy of a mated relationship.”

Oh, goddess! The pain that strikes my heart is brutal. He really doesn’t want me, and he plans to keep it that way. His intention is to use me as a pawn.

I don’t know what makes my wolf angrier: the fact that he plans to use us for our title only or the fact that he plans to stay away from us intimately.

Either way, his words break our hearts. I feel like I’ve been stabbed with a million knives all at once. I never imagined feeling pain like this. My wolf doesn't seem to take it too well either.

“Rule number two,” Cyrus continues. “I don’t tolerate lying. If I catch you in a lie, you will be severely punished.”

“How severely?” I timidly ask, not really wanting to know.

“Severely enough,” Cyrus answers me with his usual ‘do as I say’ tone. “Rule number three: you will be expected to attend every meeting and event that I have to attend. Your opinions on matters are not needed. You will sit silently and remain by my side at all times.”

His authoritative voice only adds to the unbearable pain I'm already feeling. “Do you understand?” he adds, looking directly at me.

I slowly nod my head, but it’s clear that he expects more than that.

“Yes, Sire,” I manage to say, trying to hide the sadness in my voice.

“Good,” Cyrus replies. “Rule number four: you are not to wander around the castle without my permission. If you need something, you will ask me first. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” I respond, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Rule number five,” Cyrus continues. “You will obey every command I give you without question. Failure to do so will result in severe punishment. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sire,” I say again, feeling the weight of his rules pressing down on me.

“Excellent,” Cyrus says, his voice softening slightly. “If you follow these rules, we will get along just fine. Now, let’s remove those chains.”

Cyrus reaches for the key and unlocks the chains around my wrists and ankles. The moment I’m free, I instinctively rub my wrists, trying to soothe the soreness.

“Thank you, Sire,” I say, trying to keep my emotions in check.

“You’re welcome,” Cyrus says, his voice cold. “Now, get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

I nod and lie back down on the bed, my mind racing with thoughts of my new reality. As I close my eyes, I can't help but wonder how I will survive in this new life with a mate who doesn't want me and a king who sees me as nothing more than a pawn.