Chapter 8 - A Princess In The Dark

The voice was harsh that she jumped. Her breath shook. She turned.

There he was.

Not in shadow. Not lurking. But seated beneath a spill of golden light at a heavy desk, quill scratching over parchment.

Aramisius didn't rise or glance up at first. His hand moved steadily, expression calm, as if her entrance meant nothing.

The sight of that was Aramisius stunned her. She read the sharp curve of his jaw in the firelight, hair black as raven's wings falling across his brow and temple, lashes shadowing hauntingly, beautiful eyes fixed on the page.

It was unbearable. Cruel, that someone so monstrous bore a face sculpted to perfection.

She stared, unable to stop herself. His beauty wasn't soft. It was the kind that wounded. That demanded surrender.

Her knees weakened. For the first time, she feared not just his cruelty but how easily she could forget things while looking at him.

He stopped writing.

There was silence except for the cracks of wood and the hiss of fire. Then, fluidly, he lifted his head.

Silver eyes rimmed in red locked on hers. cold and bright. He looked at her from head to toes. For a heartbeat, his gaze seemed soft and merciful. Then it vanished.

"What do you want?" His voice snapped, sharply.

Immediately, something in Aeryl's chest snapped. Fury. She didn't bow.

"What were you doing to me?"

Aramisius dropped his quill on the desk. Silence followed.

"Well, apart from that, I want my old coat back. There's a letter in it. I want to see my donkey to confirm if you’re true to your shameless monstrosities or not," she pressed, voice raw. "I want my properties rightfully."

He looked at her then, not with hunger, but amusement.

"I'm not guilty of anything. Your properties are not available." He said, smooth and flat. 

The words hit like ice. Her knees shook, but anger held her up.

"The coat.... The donkey. They were mine," she ground out. "They're important to me. I'm not your prisoner...."

"Enough!" His cheek caught the firelight, sharp as night itself. "You speak of scraps when you owe me greater debts."

Her fists clenched. "Go fuck yourself! You killed my dog and that's going to be the last thing you'd ever take from me."

"You won't be having any properties under my watch anyway."

Her chest heaved. Myrrh's trusting face appeared behind her eyes, the donkey's steady gaze beside it. A sob nearly broke, but she bit down her pain.

She slammed her hand against his desk. Papers jumped, the quill rolled. He flinched once, then froze, stone-still.

"You will not speak of them like trashes." She hissed, leaning close.

He set his quill in place with deliberate care and looked up into her eyes. "You were purchased for many reasons, woman. Grief and entitlement were not one of them."

He rose and slowly cornered the desk. When he stopped one centimetre away from her, she felt the brush of his sleeve.

"Aeryl..." His voice was hushed now, almost reverent. Then, he leaned over till his breath touched her ear, and she trembled.

Her mind whispered "monster." Her body leaned closer.

Then his hands slid down her hips, not seizing but guiding. Her breathing became ragged. Horror struck as she realized she was yielding to his touch.

Her gown came loose under his fingers, his hands feathery and hot on her skin.

"Oh..." The sound was sudden.

His hands supported her toward himself and suddenly, his mouth closed on her breasts, tender, unhurried. Pleasure cracked through her like lightning. A cry slipped free, helpless and raw.

Her back arched, calling him closer. Another broken cry escaped, shameful yet uncontrollable.

"Aramisius..." Her voice broke. "What are you doing to me?"

She clung to the very gentleness she feared, forgetting, for a moment, who he was.

All she knew was the strange sweetness unravelling her and the soft whisper of affirmations from her wolf.

Then his hands slid beneath her gown.

Her heart jumped. The fog of pleasure disappeared.

"No!" Aeryl cried out, raw and panicked. She wrenched herself free, pushing his unmoving body and stumbling backwards, clutching the fabric to her chest as though it could shield her from both him and the shame she felt.

Aramisius didn't move to stop her.

He simply stood, composed, his face unreadable, watching her as if he had drawn her into a game she didn't yet understand.

And when the silence persisted, he let the ghost of a smile touch his lips - small, dangerous, maddeningly calm.

He was enjoying her dishevelled state. Enjoying the fact that she had yielded to his touch.

"You storm in, demanding things." He said. "But perhaps it is not those things you crave. Perhaps it is shame. Perhaps it is my pleasuring you seek. You enjoy pleasure, and you won't get it. Just like the coat, the letter, the little pup and the donkey...."

Like lightening, Aeryl's palm whipped across his cheek, the sound sharp like a horesewhip.

"Don't you dare touch me ever again!" she cried, voice shaking, raw. "Fuck you!"

Aeryl's panted, chest heaving. Then the storm broke.

Tears blurred her vision as she stepped away, clutching the open folds of her gown.

Her legs weakened, but fury and shame drove her forward. She stumbled toward the door.

"Wait."

She didn't wait.

Behind her, Aramisius did not move. Only the low clang of small bells broke the silence - his hand summoning the maids calmly and evacuating the halls she was going to wander in like nothing had happened between them.

She fled down the hallway, sobs tearing from her throat before she could stop them.

Each turning blurred. Torches smeared into ribbons of fire, and she clutched her clothes tighter, the feel of his hands and mouth still burning on her skin.

Somewhere, she lost her way.

The castle twisted into endless corridors, colder, darker, until she slipped into a golden passage she didn't recognize. Her legs gave out. She sank to the floor, pressing her back to the wall, gathering her gown around her.

The darkness and silence covered her.

And then the grief came.

"Mother. Myrrh. Lilah..." She whispered, choking on the names, the image of her pup's soft eyes flooding her. The donkey's patience, her family laughing at the dining table. All faraway now like they had never mattered.

Her sobs grew raw, shaking her whole body. "I shouldn't have let you follow me, Myrrh. I should have fought harder. I should have...."

Aeryl buried her face in her hands and cried until her chest ached, until her throat was raw, until the cruel truth became blatant: She was not only taken for granted. She was humiliated, broken down, and stripped of what little dignity she thought she could keep.

And no one - not even the man who had ripped her life apart - had given her the mercy of letting her grieve the only creature who had ever been hers.

He had taken everything she had.

She buried her face against her knees, trying to quiet the shame burning through her.

A soft voice drifted into the dark.

"Little dove... why are you here, trembling all alone?"

Aeryl's head shot up.