Zezi didn’t like the elaborate long blue gown with the deep V shaped neckline, styled with barely anything for sleeves, that Gwen had made her wear. Neither did she like the silver heels Gwen had slid her feet into, nor how she had gallantly dressed her black hair in high bun and decorated it with little shinning silver stones.
She hated everything, including the fact that she was now walking down the hallway and heading to the door of the King’s dinning hall.
But this must be done, she knew it and for that very reason, she kept the advice that Gwen had said to her playing in her head over and over again.
“Be well behaved, Milady. I know it is hard but please try to be. Our King was brought up differently, very differently, and his moves are rather clumsy. You have to show him that you are willing to submit to him. Only then, will he stop fighting you.”
Many things in her advice, was Zezi against.
Submit to him?
A thought that sent her whole body crawling with hate.
Yet she could pretend to be all of that, that Gwen had advised and more, anything for her family to get out of this Hellhole alive.
But Zezi was no fool. She had sensed the sudden change in Gwen’s attitude and she insisted to know why. She had left the room, pledging unwavering loyalty to her King and been absolutely deaf to reasoning, then came back an absolutely changed person?
What had happened?
“Why are you helping me?” She had asked, her eyes ever observant, watching Gwen’s every move to catch every single expression that passed over her face no matter how quickly.
“I’d rather die than have any of my little bats in prison, the King’s dungeon is the worse. My kids and my mate mean the world to me and I understand your pain. I wish I could help you more than this, but I’m afraid I cannot.”
So she had done a rethinking, Gwen being a mother and a wife had come to Zezi’s favour but still, she was no fool. Despite Gwen’s grand help, she still wanted to be careful with her. She wouldn’t risk forgetting that her loyality was still with her King no matter what.
She knew how this was.
She stopped at the tall doors and stared daggers into it.
Then she heard a guard, announcing he presence and almost instantly, the doors were slowly thrown open.
She didn’t hesitate to step in, there was no running from this.
“Your Majesty,” she greeted when she got to in front of the dinning table, which had at its head, the King sitting in all his dark, evil glory.
How nice it would be, if he had a breath, so she could be the one to cease it.
Forever.
His dark eyes took her in slowly, then he sat up in his seat ever so slightly and gestured with a dismissive hand at a seat to his right hand side.
She went there, her heels clicking against the floor, each noise highly disturbing to her ears.
Then a guard out of no where, was pulling out her seat for her, then she sat and he left.
At that moment, she made a mistake and took in a deep breath.
The smell of rain. First rain. The smell of him.
It hit her.
She stopped herself immediately, making the air almost choke her in her throat, but the damage had already been done.
The hunger that ignited in her stomach was almost consuming, she had to resist the urge of throwing her head back against the chair and shutting her eyes from the sheer pleasure that went through her brain, consuming every sense of her being.
Her heart raced at the fear that jumped through her in a flash.
Would she survive this?
She wanted to pull her seat away or switch seats, but that would be an obvious show that he was winning.
She tried to hold her breath instead, breathing in only a little and breathing out just as much.
Anything to make herself not fall under the devil’s spell over her.
What a foolish bond.
What a crazy goddess.
The mouth watering food with wonderful aroma in front of them didn’t help matters.
It was like he was the only one in this room that she could smell.
Her hands tightened around the fork in her right grip, her claws digging into her palms yet again, her blood dropping to the table.
The electric jolt that went through her body was insane.
Her gaze snapped quickly to the King who was holding her by the wrist, an handkerchief in his hand, as he wiped away her blood off the table, his eyes red and a little dazed with a kind of lust.
Bloodlust?
Oh, no.
He took the fork from her, wiping the it clean, then inside her palms.
“I’m alright now, thank you.”
Her voice thankfully sounded firm as she pulled gently away from him, resisting the urge to snap her hand away instead.
He mustn’t know that he was affecting her this much, although she felt that her pounding heart at his touch, had already given her away.
“Eat.” The King’s voice seeped through her ears and she nodded stiffly, picking up another fork but she noticed that the King made no attempt to do the same.
And for some ridiculous reasons, she thought the food might be posioned.
“You are not eating?”
“It’s useless to me. I only need blood,” his gaze darted to a side of her neck, and Zezi was immediately glad that Gwen had picked a high collar gown for her, “and souls.”
That chilled her to her very bones.
“Why dinner then?”
He settled back into his seat, two fingers pressed to his forehead like she was a disturbance.
A mere pest.
“Just eat.”
She had something more to say, but Gwen’s advise suggested otherwise.
So she ate, as little as possible because she indeed had no appetite. She endured him even though the dinner was starting to draw like the longest hour of her life, hoping that at the end, he would do her a favour and let her have what she wanted.
But the dinner came to an end, and what she wanted was no where in sight, not until the third night, when he rouse his goblet filled with blood to his lips, and said to her.
“I will take you to see them. My prisoners.”