1

She woke up from her slumber after a cold saturated with thick moisture invaded her limbs. She fidgeted, trying to reach her sanctuary, but she was unable to do so.

Opening her soft eyes, the dark darkness greeted her.

She fidgeted again, realizing when she was unable to move that she had bound limbs.

With heavy and stiff handcuffs, she made a rattling sound that reverberated throughout the place.

She gasped, filled with panic and fear, not understanding what was happening to her or why she was tied up.

The last thing she remembers from that day

She spent the evening at the beach, swam a little, and then sat on the golden sand, with her fingers between its warm folds, watching the burning disk of the sun sink into the ocean.

But how did she end up here?

Her pupils narrowed, trying to get her eyes, unable to see anything of her surroundings, to no avail.

She found her only solution was to yell for help; someone would come to her aid, but soon she opened her mouth and screamed until she rose in panic after the echo of her voice reverberated throughout the place several times before it gradually disappeared with the protrusions of the old stone wall, causing her panic to escalate.

She cried out hysterically, hoping to free herself from the rusty iron shackles, feeling them pierce her wrists and bleed her.

She screamed and revolted, causing her to panic about her unknown fate, which she woke up to.

Time passed slowly, playing with her nerves and her thoughts; fear and anxiety seized her; thoughts took her, and others brought her, like ruthless waves that bury her under their waters, suffocating her, and then she returns and throws her towards the basement. lower...

She screamed and revolted and cried and lamented until she was tired and exhausted, so she was waiting for her fate in anticipation....

footsteps,

Yes, she hears footsteps!!!!

She held her breath, anticipating the next with a mixture of panic and enthusiasm. The sound of footsteps approaching her dark room broke the dread of the stillness in which she had been immersed for long and exhausting hours. She felt her heart tremble with each approaching step.

She listened eagerly, hearing the sound of the solid iron locks being loosened, the door making a disturbing creak the moment it was opened, and the light rushing into the hole without permission, so she quickly covered her eyeballs, protecting them from the bright light that invaded them like sharpened needles.

She knows that someone entered her cell and approached, standing right in front of her, feeling his shadow blocking the light from her, but despite that, she did not dare to open her eyeballs, waiting for a comment from him, and when she waited for a long time in vain, she felt that she was about to lose her composure again, and she removed her arms from Her face gives way to her eyeballs by adapting to the light; her blurred vision gradually becomes clear. She sees in her eyes high-legged leather boots, huge in size. She furrows her eyebrows, wondering about the identity of their silent owner. She gradually raises her eyes, and the various weapons and types dangling from the sides of his military pants cover his upper torso. In a black sweater that covers his massive, complete body, his muscular bumps stick out.

O mighty one! Who could possibly be this man? I wondered.

Is it possible that I am a prisoner in some military barracks?

Is it possible that they think that I am a spy or a secret agent, so they arrested me in order to interrogate me?

She found herself wondering, forgetting her original misfortune!

Damian narrowed his eyes, staring at her with dark looks, not surprised by her astonished looks, especially since he is used to similar female reactions when they see him for the first time.

"Do you like what you see?"

He asked her in a malicious tone tinged with vanity, approaching her slowly, contemplating her features with a bit of hunger, her nose mixed with fear and dread, drooling, craving her.

He furrowed his eyebrows, shocked at his instinct's reaction to her, contemplating her details strangely.

Forget it!

She is a human being, but the question remains, what is his brother's need for humanity to go through the trouble of bringing her to the palace despite the stipulated laws that strictly forbid bringing them to the island and to their communities?

"What do you want from me? Why am I here?" She asked in a hoarse tone, curling up, trying to get away from him, watching him with anxious eyes.

The story continues below.

"A human being with a unique scent that raises saliva in the mouth"

He whispered, approaching her, devouring her details with hungry looks that raised her suspicion, surprised by his completely illogical accent and words.

He smiled, intending to show her his fangs, taking pleasure in her quick reaction as she retreated, her body colliding with the rough wall behind her, staring at his fangs with a face as pale as the dead.

"Lord, I don't think it is a good idea to taste the property of our king, for his punishment will be severe."

The guard's voice was interrupted by Damian's tampering, speaking to him in a reserved tone that avoided provoking his anger.

Especially since everyone in the palace knows his sharp temper and rebellious personality, so they try as much as possible not to attack him in order to avoid falling at the mercy of his revolutions.

"Who will tell him, guard?"

Damian asked in a cold tone, refusing to untie Selene's faint gaze, seeming to be on the verge of losing consciousness.

Panicked, the guard shared the face of the guard, who quickly answered, "No one, no one will tell him, my lord, but he will definitely smell it on you."

At that exact sentence, Damian shook away, as if there was electricity in his sting, with signs of anger and rage on his features.

But he quickly contained himself, returning to his calm and coolness, exhaled a sharp breath, and muttered to himself narrowly:

"My dear brother, he always gets the big prize, and we always get the crumbs!"

The glitch of his fingertips with his blond hair returns his attention to Celine, who is still shrunken to herself; her legs are pressed to her chest, and she hopes to the Almighty that everything that is going on around her is just a nightmare and she will wake up from it soon. Perhaps she finds herself still sleeping in her bed, in the hotel room where she was spending her summer vacation.

He came back to her this time, keeping the imposed distance between them, getting drunk from the smell of fear emanating from her. The fairy licked him with a mischievous smile, addressing her in a tone tinged with arrogance:

"And you, my fruit, do not think that my brother will save you from me. I will taste your blood even after a while; it is a promise." He uttered his last sentence, winking at her threateningly.

"What are you?" She asked him, realizing the absurdity of her question the moment it left her mouth.

He replied with a frowning smile that scattered her being, "The worst nightmare of your life."

He blew out of his place, leaving the cell, leaving the darkness, cold, and stillness again, and a woman on the verge of losing her mind from the horror of what she saw and heard.

Is it possible that what she saw was real?

No, it is certainly not true. His likes are not true. Every sane person does not believe that his likes are real unless he is insane. Have you gone insane and are prepared for all the details you are experiencing now?

This is terrible!

The whirlpool of her dark thoughts was interrupted by the sound of the locks being loosened. The door slams again, and this time an old man enters her, dressed in an elegant gray suit, as if he were going to a party. He entered the stone cell with small steps, as if to avoid provoking her fear, contemplating her with good features that reassured her heart at once.

"Please help me, get me out of here. I don't know what to do here or who brought me. Please don't let them hurt me, please," she found herself begging him as soon as he reached her, her tears falling generously.

She watched him kneel in front of her; he opened his elegant leather wallet and took out a syringe used to extract blood. Her tears stopped falling, and she stared at him with wandering glances, preparing the package with an elaborate movement.

Random thoughts flock to her head.

She let out a dry sniff, begging in a husky tone:

"Please don't hurt me, please."