Page 22 of Damsel to the Demon

The servants finish dressing me in a gown that feels more like a cage than clothing. Its fabric clings to my skin, accentuating every curve. I hate how vulnerable it makes me feel, but I remind myself this is part of the plan.

"Follow us, human," one of the servants sneers, yanking my arm.

I bite back a retort, forcing myself to appear meek and compliant. Every step towards the captain's room feels like a march to my execution. My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure they can hear it.

We stop before an ornate door. The servant knocks, and a gruff voice calls out, "Enter."

The door swings open, revealing the captain lounging on a plush chair. His eyes rake over me, and I fight the urge to vomit.

"Leave us," he commands the servants.

As the door closes behind them, I'm left alone with the monster who destroyed my life. The air feels thick, oppressive. I can barely breathe.

"Come here, my little pet," he purrs, patting his lap.

Every instinct screams at me to run, to fight, to do anything but obey. But Azaruk's words echo in my mind.

I have to do this. For my family. For Thomas. For revenge.

I force a shy smile onto my face and take a tentative step forward. "My lord," I murmur, lowering my eyes in what I hope passes for submission.

The captain's grin widens. "That's more like it. I knew you'd come around eventually."

I swallow hard, fighting back the bile rising in my throat. As I approach him, I focus on Azaruk's promise. This won't last forever. Soon, I'll have the power to make this bastard suffer.

"Crawl to me, pet," the captain orders, his voice dripping with malice.

My stomach churns at his words, but I force myself to obey. I drop to my hands and knees, the cold floor biting into my palms. Each movement forward is agony, my body screaming in protest. But I push on, reminding myself of the endgame.

The captain's eyes gleam with satisfaction as I approach. "That's it," he purrs. "I've waited so long for this moment."

His words send a shudder through me, memories flooding back. The wedding, Thomas's lifeless body, my family slaughtered before my eyes. All because of this monster.

"You've always been mine," he continues, reaching out to stroke my cheek. "From the first moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you."

I fight the urge to recoil from his touch, instead leaning into it like the obedient pet he wants me to be. My skin crawls, but I endure. I have to.

As his hand moves to grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him, I'm transported back to that dungeon cell. The despair, the overwhelming desire to die, to join my loved ones in oblivion. But that Mercedes is gone now.

In her place stands a woman with purpose, with a burning need for vengeance. I may be on my knees before him now, but soon, oh so soon, our positions will be reversed. And when that moment comes, I'll savor every second of his suffering.

A small smile plays at the corners of my mouth, one the captain mistakes for submission. Little does he know, it's anticipation. For the first time since that fateful day, I feel truly alive. My purpose is clear, my resolve unshakeable.

I will have my revenge, no matter the cost.I repeat over and over in my head.

The captain's grip tightens on my arm as he yanks me to my feet. Before I can steady myself, he throws me onto the bed. The mattress barely cushions the impact, knocking the breath from my lungs.

"Finally," he growls, looming over me. "You're where you belong."

His hands grasp at my gown, ripping the delicate fabric. I flinch, fighting the urge to cover myself. Every instinct screams at me to fight back, but I force myself to remain still. This is part of the plan. I have to endure.

"On your knees," he barks, grabbing a fistful of my hair.

I grit my teeth as he drags me off the bed, forcing me to kneel before him. The cold floor bites into my skin, a stark contrast to the heat of rage building inside me.

"Perfect," he sneers, running a finger along my jaw. "You make such a lovely piece of furniture."

Before I can process his words, he places a goblet on my back. I stiffen, struggling to keep perfectly still as he uses me like a table. The weight of the cup is nothing compared to the weight of my fury.

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