Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Chapter 8
Helpless in the Monster’s Grip
Seraphine
Will I ever escape?
I had no idea how long the Quiet King fed on me while his men watched.
When he began speaking into my mind, I hated it, but at least I was able to tell him to get rid of the damned chains.
To my surprise, The Quiet King mentally ordered two of his men to take off my chains.
They grabbed these jagged pliers and cut them away, freeing my wrists.
Another man went to the Quiet King and carefully took off his jacket and shirt. Hard muscle greeted my eyes.
Thank God, no one undressed me. I still had on the top and pants I had worn when I left mage territory.
Once the Quiet King was shirtless, he lay back down and flicked his hand.
Instantly, my body surged to him, completely at his command, telling me that chains or not, I was still trapped by him.
Then, he possessively wrapped his arm around me and closed his eyes.
His scent captured my nose, reminding me of the moons’ light. And just beneath that scent, there was a note of ancient oak.
Frowning, I breathed him in some more and caught an undercurrent of something darker, something mysterious and almost terrifying. I didn’t know why, but I kept sniffing this elusive aroma rising from his skin. It smelled like the lingering fragrance of a thunderstorm, charged and electrifying.
For some reason, I shuddered, but I had no idea if it was fear or. . .delight.
No. I must escape.
Minutes passed in silence.
The Quiet King slept.
His soldiers stood by monitoring.
And, I assessed this huge space to figure out a way to get out.
The Quiet King’s tent spanned the size of two generous rooms. Surely, it had been crafted from the most rugged, yet refined leather that was a deep chestnut brown color.
Far across from the huge bed we lay in, an imposing entrance stood with black velvet curtains.
There’s only one way in and out of here.
I checked my right.
A small bronze pot lay near the bed with burning incense. I caught the scent of sandalwood and frankincense wafting through the air.
I directed my view to the left. A massive, mahogany desk sat over there, strewn with strategic maps, quills, and ancient inkwells. In the corner, a miniature library stood with a collection of leather-bound books. Next to it, a small silver bar held elegant black stemmed glasses and bottles of blood wine.
There are no weapons in here to kill him with.
I doubted I could truly keep that monster still with only my power for too long.
I gazed at the foot of the bed, where his men stood, assessing me and whispering to each other.
I could kill them, but would that help when there are probably more guards outside. I must think this through.
Ignoring the men, I tried to catch a hint of what was going on outside this large tent. All I could hear was the occasional snort of a horse and the clatter of wooden swords and shields.
After an hour of the Quiet King’s sleeping, all of his men decided that he would not wake until the next evening.
One by one, they left the room.
Thank Ambi. Maybe, now I can get away.
It would have been a great moment to escape, however, by now the Quiet King had me encased in his strong, muscular arms as if I were his lover and not a captured prisoner to constantly feast on at his will.
How could I be so stupid and get caught?
Every inch of his hard body molded against mine—taut muscles pressed along my breasts with a strength and force that seared through to my very core.
Facing him, I studied this cruel vampire that had delivered constant raging terror to the world. Even in slumber, the Quiet King appeared dangerous and intimidating.
He’s right about my blood though. It is changing him.
Where once the skin along his lids and near his eyebrows at been dark and shadowed, now it faded. His bleach white hair began darkening to more of the sandy-blond hue, reminding me of his twin brother Ian. His skin had transformed from stark bone-white to this light golden tan.
My insides twisted.
Blasted Ambi and Ressi!
I glared at his healing right before my eyes.
There are no gods if I cure this despicable creature.
Trapped in his hold, all I could do was witness the unfathomable. With every passing minute, the harsh angles of his monstrous face softened to a chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones.
I frowned.
Even his hard ballooned body began to smooth and tighten with rippled muscle, making him look less like some horrid creature.
You may be changing physically, but you will always be the same monster on the inside.
For now he peacefully slept next to me. . .healing.
But what would happen once he was a hundred percent back to health? I doubted he would let me go. My fate would be death or becoming his blood slave.