THE CAPTIVE'S LOVE CHAPTER 7

The command sent a shivering chill through every person in the room.

The servants hesitated, their eyes darting toward Emereah with silent pleas for mercy.

One of them—the oldest, a woman who had served Emereah's family since she was a child—fell to her knees.

"Alpha, please—"

Vladimir's glare snapped to her, and she ceased speaking immediately.

The nobles watched, entertained, some sipping their wine as if it were a play.

"Do not test my patience," Vladimir commanded.

The guards stepped forward, Emereah in their grasp by the arms.

They dragged her to her feet, the golden shackles ringing against the marble floor.

Her body protested. Pain tightened every movement, but she did not scream.

This is what he wants.

For her to beg.

To break.

To kneel at his feet and submit.

But she would rather die.

As they pulled her away, she shifted her head slightly—just enough to catch Vladimir's eye.

Her silver blaze merged with his golden rage.

And she smiled.

It was thin, scarcely noticeable.

But he saw it.

And his face grew hard.

This was only just starting.

The scorpion's venom burned like fire liquid on Emereah's skin.

Her body jerked, pain creeping up her arm in searing waves, but still—she would not give in.

Her nails dug into the stone floor, her breath forcing itself out in sharp gasps as her muscles tensed under the poison.

But she did not beg.

Not yet.

"Tsk, tsk," Alexandria cooed, circling her like a predator savoring its prey. "You’re trembling, slave. Does it hurt?"

Emereah’s lips parted, but no words came. The agony stole her breath, her voice.

Alexandria smirked.

"Not talking?" She tilted her head. "How about now?"

She stomped her heel down on Emereah’s hand—crushing the wound, shoving the venom deeper.

A shriek of agony ripped from Emereah’s throat.

"AHHHH!" Her body arched, the shout raw and filled with pain.

The other slaves cringed, some covering their ears, their faces running tears.

"Please, stop!" one of them wailed. "She can't take any more!"

"She can." Alexandria's tone was unnserving calm, her gaze on the trembling girl beneath her. "And she will."

Emereah's breathing hitched, her chest heaving rapidly as sweat filmed on her white skin.

Her vision blurred, black spots moving at the edge.

Her body screamed to succumb.

Her will would not.

"Y-You…" Her voice scraped, barely audible. "You call yourself… a Luna… and yet you… act like a coward."

Alexandria stiffened.

The venom spilled into her ears like poison.

"You dare insult me?" Alexandria's fists hardened.

Emereah struggled through the waves of pain wracking her to bring a weak, mocking smile to her lips.

Alexandria's fingers gnawed into her cheek, pushing Emereah's head into hers.

"I should have your tongue removed for that," she spat.

"Do it."

Emereah's weak voice had a sharp edge of defiance.

A flash of something black and evil passed across Alexandria's eyes.

"Fine."

An order issued-and the guards knocked Emereah down, twisting her arms behind her back. Alexandria pulled out a knife from her belt, the glint of the blade shining dimly in the torchlights. The slaves gasped, their faces twisted in shock and horror.

"No! Oh, my lady!" one pleaded.

But Alexandria's face was set, unyielding.

She grasped Emereah's hair in her hand, spinning her head around.

The knife was thrust against Emereah's lips.

"Maybe I should take that tongue of yours away Emereah," Alexandria panted, her breath in the hollow of Emereah's cheek. "Wouldn't that be beautiful? The princess who fell—silent. Helpless."

Emereah's breathing was labored, her body trembling with pain and exhaustion.

But—she laughed.

A harsh, bitter sound.

It made them all shiver.

Even Alexandria stumbled.

"You think you scare me?" Emereah gasped, silver dancing in her eyes even as they overflowed with tears. "Do it, Alexandria. Do something your precious Alpha won't. Kill me. Finish it."

Silence.

The knife lingered—tip against her lower lip, glistening line of blood.

Alexandria's hand trembled.

Something passed over her face—anger, yes, but something else too.

Frustration.

Why?

Because she knew Vladimir wouldn't allow it.

He didn't wish to kill Emereah.

Not yet.

Alexandria's hands were clenched in her own fist, trembling with rage.

And then—

Breathless with rage, she flung the dagger wide of the chamber, its blade shattering against the stone walls.

"You're above the law because he hasn't killed you yet?" Alexandria spat.

She pressed Emereah's jaw, nails deep into her flesh hard enough to bruise.

"He will. And I'll be there when he does," Alexandria panted, her voice full of menace. "And I will smile when your body is left for the crows."

She finally let her go, stepping back as Emereah stretched out before her, panting for air.

Weak. But not broken.

Alexandria fumed with rage.

"Leave her," she snarled at the guards. "Let her rot in her own pain."

She turned on her heel, her blood aflame with fury.

She needed to speak to Vladimir.

And she needed to get him to realize that keeping this useless slave around was a mistake.

As she stormed out, the heavy door creaked shut, darkness and silence falling once more over the room.

A slave hurried to support Emereah, holding her barely-conscious form.

"My lady—"

Emereah flinched.

"Don't… call me that," she gasped weakly. "I am not… a lady anymore."

Then—she let the shadows claim her at last.

Alexandria's fists were clenched.

Emereah.

Even to this day, even a slave, she was still in the way.

Still in the way of her and Vladimir.

But Alexandria would not have it so.

Not yet awhile.

When Emereah awoke, her body howled with pain.

The pain was everywhere.

Her head reeled, her throat hurt, and the searing thrumming in her hand doubled her over.

She was out of the slave quarters.

The room was dimly lit, warmed more than ice prisons.

"Tell me the truth, little wolf," he panted. "Do you want to live?"

Her lips were tight.

He grinned at her reluctance.

"Aha. Fight still in you, then?"

He grasped a silver goblet—a new one than last time. This one, he held out to her.

Water.

Something soft—a bed—was beneath her.

This was not correct.

She should not be here.

A shadow fell over her.

"Awoke already?"

Vladimir.

His golden eyes regarded her like a wolf regarding a wounded doe.

Emereah attempted to raise herself up—a blunder.

Pain struck her, her body jerking brutally as she crashed back down upon the pillows.

A low chuckle.

"Still so obstinate."

Her jaw tightened.

"Why… Her voice was tense, brittle. "Why am I here?"

Vladimir leaned his head to one side, weighing how much he was going to tell her.