CHP 4

GRACE

I had a plan set in motion. 

The maids eyes were wide with shock and horror as they started to prepare me for whatever occasion Damon had planned.

I ignored every one of them. If Damon wanted me paraded, then I’d turn his stage into a mockery. He hadn’t said how I should appear so I would choose the weapon of scandal

They finished with my hair and I stood up like a corpse, my lips sealed and my eyes dead.

I walked out of my room for the first time since I got here and the guards cleared their throat, stiffening their back as the flanked me and escorted me towards a hall.

Sounds of laughter, smell of food and mixture of different scents hit all of my senses at once and my body recoiled. 

These were the people who I believed took my mother from me. I balled my palms into fists. I was going to make them pay, starting from Damon.

They opened the doors for me and the hall went silent. Like a flower, the guards who flanked me heavily, eased out and let me step out into the hall.

Whispers erupted like a viscous flame. I caught Damon’s eyes, boring into me with disdain.

His eyes had turned to slits and where he stood, his nails dug into the chair. He may look royally pissed but a certain hunger lurked behind those eyes.

A devising smirk curved on my lips as I walked with confidence. The shortness of the gown so dangerous, men coughed and cleared their throats, others couldn’t stop their eyes.

I walked towards him and extended my hand towards him. Damon was livid.

He didn’t want people knowing I was mute then I was going to drain every patience he had till he would rather have me sent out of the palace than give him a child after all, didn’t he say I wasn’t his spec? Then I was going to show him just how disgusting I could be.

His curse wouldn’t be his problem. I would be the problem.  

Damon stood up from his seat, his eyes not leaving mine and he held my hand. His grip was firm. Too firm and a slight gasp left my lips. 

My body tensed as he dragged me onto the podium, heart was beating twice as fast as we shared breaths. Then before I could allow the mate bond control me, I pushed myself off  him and sat on the spare seat.

I could see the fury radiate off of him. Damon wanted my obedience, he was going to get my undiluted hate and defiance. 

They continued with people paying their respects but with my silence and lack of interest, I already knew most people hated me on sight. 

By the time the party had gone underway, I decided this was the best time to achieve my goal.

‘I’ll like to use the restroom’ I silently said but Damon ignored me.

‘Would your council love to hear how mute I am about using the ladies room or do I have to show them? Your highness?’ I mocked and Damon looked at me with annoyance.

Soon, a guard trailed me toward the ladies’ room. We passed the kitchen, and I didn’t wait for permission before I slipped inside and pretended to be hungrily stuffing food into my mouth. 

While I worked as a part-time maid in my palace when my father would go on trips, I had made a discovery that all kitchens kept a particularly interesting substance to rid the palace of vermins but if a pregnant or a potentially pregnant she-wolf ingested it, it could cause catastrophic events leading to either misconception or prevention of kids depending on how long it’s been ingested. It was called widowsmite.

Disgusted, the guards turned away, giving me the moment I wanted.

A smile flickered as I tore through the pantry. There it was.

Widowsmite. Birth control in its deadliest form.

I crushed the bitter herb between meat and wine, masking its scent. To the guards, I was only another hungry bride stuffing her face. But I knew better, widowsmite would keep Damon’s heir from ever taking root.

I wasn’t going to give Damon the chance to use me to help himself.

He was my enemy even if he was my fated mate. I walked into the bathroom and the guards stayed outside.

The door creaked. Too quiet. Too late. Filthy hands seized me…

I spun in shock to see a short drunk, his eyes dripping with lust.

“You must be Damon’s new toy,” he slurred. “Dressed like that, you’re asking for a lesson.”

Revulsion spiked instantly. I dodged his grab and made for the exit, but the door was already locked.

Shit.

My fists pounded the wood.it was too late.

 He yanked my hair, hurling me across the tiles. Pain lanced up my spine as he climbed over me. I scratched at his face then slapped him, hard.

The air went stiff and my heart thundered in my ears. His eyes shifted from hunger to murder.

His hands locked around my throat instantly as my dress tore beneath his grip.

I fought, nails clawing, breath burning. A silent scream ripped through me.

Then his fist cracked against my face. Stars burst in my vision.

My ear started to ring when the door suddenly got blown off of its hinges. 

My eyes widened when claws suddenly burst through the man’s chest. Blood splattered across my face. Crimson eyes burned fiercely. 

Damon tore the man apart like paper but when his hand reached me, it was almost… careful. The contrast chilled me more than his fury.

For a breath I couldn’t move. My pulse stuttered with the shock of it, but underneath the fear another thought pressed in, cold and unwanted: this wasn’t the first time he had pulled me back from the edge.

First the rogues. Now this.

He swore I was nothing but a pawn, property he never wanted yet the bond yanked him to me again and again.

A chill slid down my spine. Was this Damon choosing to save me, or was it something deeper, something neither of us could fight?

Because if it was the mate bond that dragged him through walls and blood to find me, then no matter how much he hated me… some part of him would always come.

I reached out a hand to smoothen the cut that now oozed blood when memories flooded my head.

I pushed Damon away from me violently. Did he offer a hand to my mother right before he had supposedly slit her throat? 

“Come back here,” he ordered but I refused. Walking straight to the exit.

“Grace!!” He yelled and I froze. 

I ran. Straight to my room, banging the door shut. 

What was this!? 

How would he know my name? For days I’ve been Lily, how the hell does he know?

My mind was in chaos until I remembered something he had said about me being the bastard daughter. Did everyone know me? Was that how he knew?

My mind was in chaos, I pulled at the blood spattered dress only to hear the shriek of a crow behind me.

Father.

The crow shrieked, impatient, as I tore the note from its leg.

“I can either rescue you or you’d be what your sister was supposed to be. My eyes and ears.  Let’s avenge your mother, I’ll gut Damon myself.” It read.

My hand trembled.

I stared at the words until they blurred. For so long I’d dreamed of Father rescuing me. Yet now that he reached for me, all he offered was another way to use me.

But Damon was still the monster who had taken everything. If I couldn’t scream, I could write. And if I couldn’t fight him yet, maybe Father could.

My throat burned with the silence of the choice I was making. Slowly, I tore a strip of fabric from my gown and dipped the pen.

Two words bled into the cloth. Yes, Father.

I froze, staring at the stain as though it had already sealed my fate. Guilt crawled through me. What if Damon found it? What if the bond betrayed me?

My pulse hammered as I stuffed the fabric beneath the pillow, fingers shaking, the pen still slick with ink.

That was when the doorknob rattled. Damon’s scent hit first, dark, sharp and inescapable. The hinges of the door groaned heavily before giving way.

The crow vanished into the night just as the door splintered and Damon stepped inside. His eyes went straight to the pen in my hand, to the ink still wet, the shriek of the crow in the night sky and the fabric corner peeking from the bed.

“You’re a spy?!” His voice was molten with rage.

Blood drained from my face.

He knew.