Chapter 5 - Rebels And Rising Rumors

Aeryl gasped, her breath scattering. His grip pinned her there, firmly, every beat of her pulse hammering beneath his palm.

"Careful. You don't know what you're walking into, hybrid," Aramisius hissed, his lips grazing her ear. "You should know your enemies. I am one of them."

"What... do you want from me?"

His eyes burned red-silver, cutting into her.

"All. Of. You."

The words entered her bones. But there was something else in his gaze. Something starved, something tied to her.

"I'll do all I can to end you just like you did to Myrrh." Aeryl swore, looking him straight in those dangerous, beautiful eyes.

Suddenly, he pressed her wrists above her head, his body pinning hers, heat radiating from him like fire. The wall bit into her back. She struggled, clawing at his grip, but every movement only made his hold stronger.

He tilted her head by her hair, his face lowered till his mouth rested on her throat. She felt his fangs brush her skin, her pulse drumming beneath them.

She whimpered. 

"Now." He murmured, his breath hot, "do you truly wish to fight me again? If you lose, then your pets will be used as meat for your diner."

Fear rose, yet her body betrayed her with a shiver. A tiny sound slipped from her lips-half sob, half moan. Shame burned her cheeks.

He chuckled darkly, tongue tracing the curve of her neck and breasts, deliberate and slow.

"You're trembling. Not from fear alone."

"Stop!" she gasped, fighting him weakly. "You're - you're a monster...."

His grip tightened. "We wasted time already." His lips brushed her pulse, fangs ready to pierce. Then, suddenly, they slipped back in place and he moved away.

Then, like lightning, he carried her into his arms.

Instantly, Aeryl fought. Screaming and struggling but it seemed his large body was built for her resistance as he seemed unbothered and took her out to his room.

****

****

In the shadowed throne room of Lycan King Markos, incense filled the air. His spy knelt low, voice trembling as he delivered the news:

"My king... Princess Aeryl has been sold."

This was shock and scandal.

Silence, then gasps through the courtiers. No one dared look at Markos.

The king's fangs glinted as he snarled. He rose, red cloak dragging like spilled ink across the marble.

"Seth..." he growled, venomously. "He swore to me. He gave his word that Aeryl would remain untouched, unsold, untainted. That I will protect her."

The members bowed lower. One dared and spoke "My lord, perhaps it is a mistake...."

Markos slammed his fist against the throne arm. "Shut up! Do not speak to me of mistakes! This is betrayal." His red gaze burned, fixed on nothing and everything at once. "Seth Frankfurt dares to mock me. To make me a fool before my court. To promise loyalty, yet sell what was mine by right. After everything."

His rage echoed through the chamber.

Then, controlled and dangerously, he said. "Summon my generals. If Seth believes he can play both sides, he will learn what it means to deceive a lycan king."

The spy swallowed. "My king... forgive me, but... Aeryl was not sold to common hands."

Markos's glare snapped to him. "Speak."

The spy bowed his head. "She was sold... to Lord Aramisius Knighte."

This news was like a stray bullet. 

Markos did not roar anymore. He went completely still. So still it was frightening. He sat back down. 

Then, his eyes narrowed into slits of cold fury. His lips shook but no sound came.

One subject whispered, horrified. “Prince Aramisius...?”

Markos’s fingers clenched the armrest. The ancient stone cracked beneath his grip for his silence carried too much rage. For the first time in centuries, the lycan king looked shaken.

At last, Markos lifted one hand.

The assembly members bowed so deeply their foreheads nearly touched the floor, then quietly left.

The heavy doors slammed shut. Only Markos and the trembling spy remained.

Markos still didn't speak. His head tilted slightly, eyes fixed and unblinking.

Finally, he spoke.

“Hurry. You will find out what binds Furtville. What pact Aramisius has made to give Seth such audacity. Whether it be coalition, protection... or brotherhood.”

The spy swallowed and glanced up.

“If Lord Seth Numark Frankfurt stands alone, I will break him. If he is shielded by Theartera...” A faint, bitter smile touched Markos’s lips. “...then I will break them first.”

He leaned forward, fingers curling.

“Go. Quietly. And do not fail me.”

The spy slammed his forehead to the ground, then scrambled to his feet and fled, heart pounding.

Markos leaned back once more, alone at last, his thoughts scattering with suspicion, betrayal, and plans too dangerous to talk about.

****

****

Blythe smoothed her cot, watching Senora braid her glossy hair herself in the mirror.

"Senora," Blythe whispered. "You acted different around the princess. Especially when we saw her wounds."

Senora's paused, then moved again. She laughed lightly. "Uneasy? You're imagining things, sweet Blythe."

"But it feels real." Blythe pressed.

Senora leaned close, voice low, smile warm. "Sharp eyes can cut too deep. It was merely pity for the young damsel... none of us are untouched. Some hide it better."

Her smile softened, almost sisterly. "The princess has burdens. Lord Knighte has his nature. We? We keep our heads down. That's survival."

Blythe nodded slowly, unsettled but acting like she understood.

"Don't frown so." Senora cooed. "The palace is cruel enough without us adding shadows."

Her tone was sweet and her eyes were expressionless but her fists clenched when she placed them on her lap.

****

****

Aeryl woke slowly.

To a scent so deep and sweet. Roses.

Him.

Her pulse slowed before she realized it had been racing.

She lay still, eyes closed, afraid that if she moved, the calm would break.

The bed she lay on was very large with warm, silken sheets. Her fingers curled into them without thinking.

She inhaled again. The panic continued to calmed. 

When she finally opened her eyes, she froze.

There was red and black roses everywhere.

They climbed the walls from black, floral vases, grew across tables, curled along the edges of the room. Their petals were dark and velvety, almost bruised, as if they had been fed something richer than water.

Too many.

Too close.

Her chest tightened then eased again as the scent wrapped around her, grounding her despite the fear.

This place is warded, something inside her whispered.

She sat up slowly, her silk gown sliding against her skin.

No guards. No maids. No prince. Yet she wasn’t alone.

The presence lingered. Pressed into the walls, the air, the roses themselves. Watching without eyes.

Her thoughts drifted, helplessly.

The strange man’s pale face flickered in her mind again. Then faded, replaced by comfortable warmth. By something steady and dangerous.

Her breathing normalized. Minutes passed and maybe longer. Then, the door opened. She felt it before she heard it.

The air shifted subtly and the scent deepened.

Aeryl turned her face to look.

Aramisius Knighte stood at the door.

Fully clothed. Black and crimson. His silver-red eyes locked onto hers. He took her in at a glance. Her bare feet on silk, flushed skin, full blonde hair, pupils wide.

She looked calm and that surprised him.

He stepped inside.

Her fingers tightened in the sheets.

“You did something, didn't you?” she whispered.

A corner of his mouth lifted bit it was not a smile. 

“This room is bound to me.” He said. “My scent. My wards. My roses. It attracts your wolf.”

He moved closer.

“With panic....” He continued. “....logic is useless. The body listens first.”

He stopped a few steps away.

“And yours listens to me.”

Her throat worked. 

“And who was that man?” she said quietly. “In the forest. Before you.”

That made him pause.