Page 75 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
The most stunning thing I have ever laid my eyes on.
A figment of a wondrous dream, a midnight fantasy. She stumbled into my prison like a wandering fawn and resurrected me from my slumber.
The curse sometimes taunts me with visions. It gives me hope for an escape, a victim to devour. Anything to plunge me into the sinking, hopeless despair when they reveal none of it is real.
It felt like drifting out of a nightmare as the girl dragged me from the dungeon. I nearly lost control when I licked her wound in the cavern. Her blood sings to me, gracing my throat like a taste I have long forgotten. As sweet as honey and milk. The thirst usually wins over everything else. But with her it didn’t take much to curb the hunger before an entirely different need took a hold of me.
I have been trapped in that hell for ages. Even my own name felt foreign to me when I uttered it to her.
Everything after that played out with an unreal quality that only existed in dreams. The chase, the escape, the fight. Endless questions keep on piling in my mind. I thought the isolation had driven me insane. An odd, younger Balthazar appeared, telling me this beautiful thing offered herself as my plaything for the entire night.
Rhianelle is all my darkest desires wrapped in one. From her perky breasts to every gentle curve and quivering hips, to the way she kept begging for more when she clearly couldn’t take it. I fulfilled every one of her requests, ravaged her like a beast relentlessly with her hands tied. This is definitely another trick by the Rhunhraefn, one I would willingly fall into.
But then…
“I’m turning into a snail.”
And…the dream stops.
Snail?
There is no way the curse can conjure something that odd.
This girl is real.
And so is everything else. I look at her soft, delicate frame on the bed. I almost lost complete control of myself. Hell forbids what could have happened then. Her weirdness saved her life. My first instinct is to kill the male who planned this fuckery.
Balthazar.
But I can’t leave her. The girl is crying her heart out, her tears spilling to the bedsheet. I glance at the cord mark decorating her wrists. She doesn’t seem like someone accustomed to restraints. Then why beg me for it?
Have I broken her?
No, this is not the rope or the rough fucking. It’s something else…
“Rhianelle,” I call to her.
Her long elven ears perk at the clear utterance of her name. But she doesn’t look at me, burying her face in the pillow.
“Nel…” I try again.
She stirs a little.
“Snail—”
The girl finally lifts her head to glare at me. I fight back a smile. Definitely not a dream.
I look at the amulet around my neck, hoping it will carry my words to her. “Did I hurt you?”
Just when I begin cursing myself, I feel her small hand touching mine.
“No,” she says in a gentle voice, managing a feeble smile of assurance for me. “I’m all right.”
She covers her body with the blanket and crawls slowly into my arms. I wrap my hand around her waist, holding her close to me. The small sobs continue, her emotion raw and miserable. I let her hide in my embrace without words. The heartbreaking cries finally cease after a while. When the last of her tears dry, I shift to lay us down on the bed.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” I ask after a while, making an effort to use the softest tone in my voice.
“The bond hasn’t formed. I’ve failed everyone,” she despairs.
