CHAPTER 1

PROLOGUE

Once upon a time, the kingdom of Korvath and the kingdom of Averon were at peace with one another. That peace, however, was broken when the king of Averon passed away and a new monarch, Prince Zorvath, took over.

Prince Zorvath has always been hungry for power, always wanting more and more.   After he attacked Korvath. The attack was so unexpected, Korvath never prepared for it. They were caught off guard. The king and queen were killed, and the prince was taken into slavery.

The people of Korvath that survived the war were enslaved; their land taken from them. Their women were made into sex slaves.

They lost everything, including their land.

Evil befell the land of Korvath in the form of Prince Zorvath. The prince of Korvath, Draven, in his slavery, was filled with much rage, and he swore revenge.

Ten years later, thirty-year-old Draven and his people raided a coup and escaped slavery. They went into hiding and recuperated, training day and night under the leadership of the fearless and cold Draven, who was driven with everything in him to get back their land and take Averon’s land as well.

It took them five years before they ambushed and attacked Averon. They killed Prince Zorvath and reclaimed everything.

As they screamed out their victory, Draven’s eyes found and pinned the proud princess of Averon: Princess Seraphine, the daughter of Prince Zorvath.

As Draven stared at her with the coldest eyes anyone could ever possess, he felt victory for the first time. He walked to the princess with the slave collar he’d worn for ten years rattling in his hand. He reached close to her, and with a swift movement, he collared her neck.Then, he tilted her chin up, staring into the bluest eyes and the most beautiful face ever created. Giving her a cold smile, he stated curtly, "You are my acquisition. My slave. My sex slave. My property. I will pay you in spades—everything you and your father ever did to me and my people."

Pure hatred, coldness, and victory was the only emotion on his face.

CHAPTER 1

Seraphine huddled down in her empty, cold cell. She had been there for one week and craved to be outside… or anywhere, anywhere at all that wasn’t the cold barren space. Time seemed to have become lost to her while trapped in the cells, consumed by her thoughts and the memories that plagued her.

Only one bunk bed occupied the side of the room. Seraphine hadn't seen her captor in the past week, and that was the time he walked up to her, staring at her with the coldest eyes she had ever seen. Never in her life had she felt fear stronger than when she looked into those dark depths, filled with depravity to go with the sinister smile that graced his lips.

He had stopped right before her, with calculating eyes that promised a world of anguish and pain. Seraphine had prayed he'd just end her; she knew whatever he had in store for her would only inflict the worst kind of pain. But when she realized his intentions were not to kill her, any hope of freedom faded away.

He reached long, calloused fingers toward her. Those same fingers grazed her neck and made the unsettling coldness she felt inside envelope her completely. He wanted revenge. Revenge for something she had no part in. Seraphine knew pleading that would do her no good. This man only saw the evil of her father, not the broken woman that stands before him.

The hard, cold metal clamped around her throat, metal dug into her delicate skin. He had collared her. Only then did it truly settle in with the harshest clarity of what she was to become to him. His slave. His property, he'd called her.

He admired his handiwork, his fingers grazed the cold biting metal, and he smiled, triumphantly.

A chill went down Seraphine's arms. She had never seen such raw hatred in anybody's eyes. Draven hated her. Seraphine knew the reason more than anybody. Oh, did she know.

One week ago, she was Princess Seraphine, daughter of King Zorvath of Averon. She was feared and respected. No one dared look at her twice. You wouldn't dare look her in the eyes. You wouldn't dare walk the path she walked unless you had no value for your life. Her father saw to that.

Now, her father was dead, their kingdom taken over by the ruthless King Draven. That day had replayed on her mind relentlessly, adding to the torture of this cell, making it feel that much colder, that much lonelier.

The sound of footsteps and chains rattling drew Seraphine’s attention toward the door of the cell. The door opened, and a bodyguard entered, carrying a tray of food. Seraphine stared at the man, drinking in his every feature, from the dark sinister color of his uniform, to the blade at his hip. A blade she had often waited over the past week to be used on her. Only it never was.

He may not be King Draven, but this man's ill attempt at hiding his lust-filled gaze did not go unnoticed by her. She could feel his leering eyes on her, watching her. Someone was always watching in silence, from where she did not know, but she would sometimes be pulled from tumultuous thoughts to the door opening and closing. Seraphine’s stomach rumbled, hunger coursing through her and reminding her that this was her first meal since morning, and it suspiciously looked like evening now.

"Here's your food, Priliincess." The guard stretched the syllable in disgust. Everyone there hated her, Seraphine knew that much. She raised her chin defiantly, saying nothing. "The king will be here in a few hours. Be ready to receive him," he announced with a dark chuckle. He dropped the tray next to her with no care, the hot contents scalding her cold skin as it splashed her. Seraphine only offered a glare to the guard, refusing to let him know how much the hot liquid burned her. Not receiving the reaction he sought, the guard sneered before walking away.

Fear slid through her. She wasn't ready to face her captor yet. But it had been one week, and Seraphine knew it was inevitable.When the guard leaves her to her solitude, she wipes a stray tear, and uses the hem of her dress to wipe her arms down and her legs. The soup was piping hot and now left discarded on the hard concrete floor. Seraphine looks at the bowl tipped on the tray with barely a mouthful left. The stale piece of bread that sat beside it, however, offered the nutrients she needed, and she knew she couldn't pass it up. Seraphine knew she would need her strength for what was to come, so she would take what she could get.

Two hours later, the sun was almost down when Seraphine heard footsteps followed by, "The king has arr—"

"Do not announce me, Ravik," came the curt reply that sent chills down Seraphine's arms. In all her twenty-one years of life, she had never heard a voice so cold. Never feared a voice more than his.

"I apologize, my king," Ravik quickly said.

Sounds of chains… and then, the door was thrown open. Only the king entered, because Seraphine heard just one almost-unheard footstep. The door closed behind him. Each sound of his steps made her heart beat quicken, as he drew nearer and made dread settle deep within her. He was here. The one person she feared more than her father was coming to see her.

Suddenly, her cold, barren cell was no longer so… barren. She raised her eyes and stared at him with her own hatred for him in her eyes. He was big like a warrior, but he had the bearing of a king. Seraphine knew he was thirty-five years old and larger than life itself. Even when he had been in slavery under her father, that regality was almost present around him, no matter how much he had been beaten—how much he had been tortured.

He stared at her with complete displeasure as he took in her dirty clothes and dirtier hands. His gaze lingered on her cheek, and Seraphine knew he was probably noticing the red mark from the slap Tavren gave her.

He turned away. “Leave us,” he ordered the servants, including Ravik.

They all bowed and walked away.

He resumed dressing. “Get out and freshen up, Seraphine. We’re going to court. Do not take more than five minutes,” he commanded.

“To court…?” Dread pulled at the pit of Seraphine’s belly. Slaves only went to court for the wrong reasons. And the King’s Slave only went to court for…

“Today’s your introduction as the King’s Slave,” he confirmed her fears with those curt words.

Her belly dropped beneath her feet, and her face crumbled. The day had just gone from bad to worse.

She wanted to plead with him desperately that she didn’t want to be “introduced.” That she wanted to be spared The Introduction.

But she knew she would only be wasting her time… and inviting punishment.

Seraphine hurried away to her room while tears fell from her eyes. She wondered how many privileged families all over the country would be coming.

How many Kings would be coming to “introduce” her?

How many Kings would be having sex with her today?