Page 101 of The Slave in A Princess Disguise

Emeriel drifted off to sleep. Life was so unfair.

Grand King Daemonikai bolted upright, and fought for breath.

Watching his son take his last breath clung to him as he staggered to the window, gasping for air. The first rays of dawn painted the sky.

His chest ached, and his heartburned.

But the suffocating discomfort that woke him was something else. Someone else’s pain. So vivid and real as if it were his own.

A long draught of water did little to soothe his parched throat. He returned to the window, his gaze sweeping over the fields below, painted in hues of gold and amber.

The misery that pulled Daemonikai from the dark hands of his nightmare, dragging him back to his fractured reality, was beginning to fade, leaving him with questions. Questions he could no longer ignore.

His family was gone.

There was no one else with such a profound, personal connection to him.So, whose pain had he just felt?

Dressing in his robe, Daemonikai strode out of his chambers.

Time to get answers.

And he knew exactly where to get them.

His guards snapped to attention, and Wegai approached, awaiting his command.

"Blackstone," Daemonikai ordered, marching forward. It was time to confront Vladya.

Chapter twenty-eight

HEARTS LAID BARE

Youknowyouwantto. Go to her.

Grand Lord Vladya squeezed his eyes shut, but the insistent voice refused to be silenced.

Spread her out on the bed, and fuck her with your cock. Hard, rough, make it hurt. Make her scream. Make her bleed.

Was it his soullessness, the feral madness, or simply the darkness festering inside him? Vladya couldn't say. The thoughts in his head grew more twisted each day. He fought them tooth and nail, knowing he could never do that to Aekeira again.

He wouldn't take her by force. Not anymore. She didn't deserve the dark desires he harbored.

Fine, forget her. Go hunting. Kill some humans. Ten? Fifty? What difference does it make?

His fingers dug into his arms, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin.

Tie her up here, in your territory. She can never get away. She’ll will look good wearing the mark of your whip. Red stripsmarring such perfect skin. Your marks, all of them. Because she's yours. No one else’s.

What he needed was a good run. Rising abruptly, he donned his robes and headed for the door. "Do not follow me," he barked over his shoulder.

Leaving the royal residence, he forced himself not to glance at the narrow hallway beckoning him.All you need to do is walk through there, and you'll find her sleeping, spread out like a sacrifice on the bed... all for you.

Growling, he made his way out of Blackstone, past the fortress gates. Then he took off, running into the night.

Time lost meaning as he navigated the familiar woods. The forest breathed around him, a living, rustling entity under the midnight moon. His feet pounded the earth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Branches intertwined overhead, their leaves like shifting shadows. The air was thick with the familiar scents of the woods, and the fragrance of flowers. It was liberating.

The sexlust that had plagued him all day receded as he soared through the woods, racing past gnarled oaks with ancient roots reaching out like skeletal hands, past shimmering birches. His legs burned, his lungs ached, but he couldn’t stop.

By the time he returned to Blackstone, the first rays of dawn were breaking through the darkness. He felt cleansed. Rejuvenated.

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