Chosen
1061 Words
Xalvador pulled back, breaking the kiss only when Lyra began to whimper, her chest heaving for air. He didn't let her go. He kept his arms locked around her small frame, pinning her against his chest. Beneath his eyelids, the pitch black of his Jagan heritage violently flashed into a brilliant, predatory gold. Yves was thrashing at the surface, demanding control.
Lyra trembled violently in his embrace. She kept her hands flat against his silk robe, paralyzed by the sheer size of him. Her mind raced with terrifying scenarios. Please, she prayed silently, her eyes fixed blindly on the dark room. Don't let him violate me, not like this.
"What is your name?" Xalvador demanded, his voice a low vibration against her collarbone.
"Ly... Lyra," she managed to squeeze out through her damaged throat.
"Your age?"
"Twenty-one."
Xalvador’s lips twisted into a dark smile. "Mature enough. Now, strip."
Lyra’s heart completely stopped. Her hands froze on the velvet blanket. "Please," she whispered, her voice cracking painfully.
Xalvador smirked, his hand sliding down to grip her hip. "You are in my palace. You belong to the sovereign now."
Inside Xalvador’s mind, a chaotic roar erupted.
"Are you insane?" Yves snarled, the dragon’s voice slamming against his thoughts. "The blood barrier is strong, but it won't hold through a full consummation. You will vacuum her soul until there is nothing left but ash!"
"I have been starved for years," Xalvador shot back, his internal voice dripping with venomous hunger. "She is mine, in my bed and I want her now."
"You will kill her now!" Yves roared, forcing a sharp pain through Xalvador's temples. "Look at her! She is human, she is fragile, and you are a vortex. One mistake and our mate dies. Step back, King!"
Xalvador glared down at Lyra. She hadn't moved an inch, her pale face completely drained of color as she sat frozen in the middle of the bed, her unseeing eyes wide with terror.
"Why do you shake so much, Lyra?" Xalvador asked aloud, his voice dropping into a dangerous purr. "Are the stories of the shadow court really that frightening to a little human?"
"I am just... cold, Your Grace," she whispered, pulling her knees to her chest.
The cold logic of the Trickster King finally overrode his hunger. With a frustrated growl, Xalvador grabbed the heavy fur covers and flung them over her body, burying her up to her chin.
"Sleep," he commanded sharply. "Do not leave this bed. If you step foot out of this room, the guards will not be as gentle as I am."
She didn't dare breathe loudly until the heavy click of the door signaled his departure.
---
Xalvador walked down the grand corridor, his expression hardening back into the cold, calculating mask of the sovereign. Halfway to the royal wing, a figure stepped out from the shadows of a grand pillar. It was Vaelen, his second in command. The commander wore his silver armor with effortless grace, his posture pristine, embodying every trait of a proud, traditional True Dragon.
"Your Grace," Vaelen said, bowing his head just low enough to show respect, but not an inch further. "The Great Selection has begun. The lords are gathered in the throne room. They await your judgment."
"I am aware, Vaelen," Xalvador said coldly, passing him without slowing down. "Let us not keep the vultures waiting."
"They are restless tonight," Vaelen remarked, falling into step half a pace behind the King. "The human realm sent their finest bloodlines."
"The lords expect too much," Xalvador replied, his eyes narrowing. "They forget who wears the crown."
"They forget nothing, Your Grace," Vaelen said smoothly, his voice dripping with rehearsed loyalty. "They merely care for the future of the kingdom. A stable throne requires a suitable vessel to carry your child."
"I will decide what is suitable for my throne, Commander."
"Of course," Vaelen said.
Xalvador kept his eyes fixed forward, entirely missing the way Vaelen’s expression instantly curdled behind his back. The commander’s eyes hardened, a silent, absolute killing intent flashing across his features before settling back into a calm, loyal mask.
---
The massive obsidian doors of the throne room swung open. Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating. Dozens of high-ranking dragon lords and noblemen lined the walls, whispering among themselves. In the center of the room stood the four remaining human maidens. They were dressed in scant, translucent silks that left very little to the imagination. The moment Xalvador entered, the girls immediately shifted, arching their backs, lowering their gazes, and striking seductive poses to catch the King's eye.
Xalvador ascended the dais and took his place on the throne of shadows. He leaned back, resting his chin on his knuckles, and stared down at the women. A heavy, expectant silence fell over the hall. The nobles held their breath, waiting to see which bloodline would be chosen to bear the next heir. Xalvador let the silence stretch for a minute, then two, his black eyes mixed with gold-flecked light completely unreadable.
Finally, he spoke. "I am choosing none of them."
The words dropped like a stone in a quiet pond. Instantly, a wave of outraged whispers broke out among the nobility.
Lord Boros, an elder dragon lord, stepped forward, his chest puffing out. "Your Grace! The law requires an heir to secure the lineage. The human realm sent these maidens specifically for your choosing. On what grounds do you reject them all?"
"The grounds of my own preference, Lord Boros," Xalvador said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "None of these women please me."
"This is absurd!" another lord shouted from the crowd. "We need an heir! The kingdom cannot stand on a hollow throne!"
"Are you questioning my decree, Lord Malakor?" Xalvador asked, his tone turning dangerously sharp.
"We question the wisdom of ignoring our traditions, Your Grace," Boros countered, stepping closer to the dais. "The selection is a sacred trial. You cannot simply send them away without a replacement."
Xalvador leaned forward, a dangerous, mocking smile cutting across his face.
"I never said there wouldn't be an heir," Xalvador announced, his voice echoing perfectly through the massive hall. "I merely said it wouldn't be any of them. I have already found my bride. And she is currently sleeping in my bed."
The silence that followed was louder than any roar.
- Writer
