Page 143 of The Princess In A 'Prince' Disguise

Vladya glanced at the naked maid before him. She had undressed and presented to him.

In that position, Vladya should have been rock-hard, tearing off his clothes and mounting her within seconds. However, his body barely responded.

After he undressed, Vladya stroked himself to a half-hard state and positioned himself behind the willing body. But when he grabbed hold of her hips, it felt...wrong. Despite her willingness, she was not the one his body wanted.

Aekeira is close. You know it,a voice whispered in his mind.Take what you want from her. Take what you need.

He straightened. "Get out.”

The female looked confused, but quickly obeyed.

Vladya slipped into his robe and made his way out, arriving at the girl's chambers. Her door was closed, but it opened silently when he turned the handle. It was fortunate too, for a flimsy door handle would not have stopped him—it would only provoke his beast further.

The sight that greeted him was a vision of great beauty. Aekeira lay sprawled across the bed, her white nightgown in tone with her pale skin and the cascade of golden hair spilling across the pillows. Her eyes were closed, her breath a gentle rhythm in the quiet room.

Vladya entered, locking the door behind him with a decisive click. It had been a mistake, bringing her to Blackstone. She was too close. Too tempting. Too easily accessible.

But for one night, just this one night, he wanted to forget. To think of nothing else. To indulge in the one he truly desired.

Tomorrow, he would resume the battle against himself. Tomorrow, he would face the chaos.

Merilyn knew him well. For as much as Vladya would love to take the righteous path, to let go of Daemonikai, to end his friend's tortured existence, he could not. He had always been selfish, and he had no intentions of changing now.

So what if Daemonikai was broken? So what if the weight of his loss proved unbearable? They would decide if they would have to muddle through it or revert to being feral.Together.

There were two options he was looking at. The first, he would fight them off, even if it meant killing Zaiper in the process. The death of a grand lord was no trivial matter, but Vladya cared little for the consequences.

Should this approach fail—possibly due to obstacles like iron shards, dragon blood, and poisoned bullets— he would turn to his second option. He would chant theXaa'l Tbeh Zeek.

A dangerous and forbidden dark magic used for mind exchange.

His mind for the return of Daemonikai's. There really was not much left of his mind anyway, so it was a fair trade.

Regardless of the outcome, Vladya was prepared to transform into his beast form and spill any amount of blood necessary tosafeguard Daemonikai, even if it meant he could not shift back to his male form again.

Ultimately, both paths led to the same destination, Daemonikai's protection. Even at the cost of Vladya's own sanity. Whatever was left of it, anyway.

So yes, tonight, he would indulge.

With that thought, he extinguished the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and climbed into bed beside her.

Aekeira stirred from her slumber, a weight pressing upon her. Even before opening her eyes, she knew Grand Lord Vladya had joined her.

Her body tingled with warmth, her body becoming aroused, even as dread filled her. Swallowing nervously, she looked up at him.

"Aekeira," he uttered in a guttural groan. He appeared livid, though that was nothing new. But this time, he looked...tired too.

Not physically exhausted, but mentally burdened. Aekeira struggled to find the right words to describe it, but tiredness seemed to fit.

"Your Highness," she whispered. Now in close proximity to him, Aekeira forced herself to look beyond the fear that always clouded her perception of this male and truly observe him, Merilyn’s words echoing in her mind.

Knowing what he had endured helped Aekeira see him as more than just her captor, slavemaster. More than just a heartless grand lord, and tormentor. She saw him as any male. As flesh and blood.

She wanted to hug him. Even if he would likely strangle her for it, Aekeira still wanted to hug him anyway. This must be what people mean when they say one was playing with scorching fire.

"Do not look at me like that," he growled, his voice sharp.

"Like what?"

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