Chapter 22

Belle's POV

The first thing she feels when she wakes up is the chilling air. Then silence, and it's not the peaceful kind.

It's the kind when the realization hits you just how much you've messed up.

The silence presses on her chest before she even opens her eyes fully, like the weight of yesterday still sits on her eyes.

Her body aches, not faintly. The type of pain that comes from letting an alpha claim you over and over, until your legs tremble from the exhaustion.

She remembers every detail.

Darian.

The bath.

His rut.

Her eyes snap open.

"Have I lost my mind!?" She mutters.

Belle jerks up, wincing slightly from how hard she stands, but she ignores it looking around.

Her vision is a bit blurry, but she catches a flickering candle on one corner, the stone walls, the huge marble bath...

She rubs her temple. So she's still in the bath... and on, she looks down, on a small wide bench that she has no idea how she even got on.

The prince is nowhere to be found much to her disappointment, but she doesn't know what she'd been expecting.

The Prince is about to choose a mate that's definitely not her, and still, she let him have his way with her senseless.

And his scent....goodness, even after hours, it still clings stubbornly to her skin like a sensual perfume. The type that can't be easily washed off no matter how many times she scrubs off.

Her hand instinctively goes to her neck, pressing two fingers against the spot Darian's fangs had grazed.

Nothing.

Just a lingering ache of what was supposed..

She exhales hard, swinging her legs off the bench, moving to stand in front of the mirror.

Her body is littered in love bites, thankfully not in conspicuous places. But not thankfully because most of the staff uses the general baths, and questions are surely going to arise.

She mentally scolds herself, reaching for her dress scattered on the floor.

Her skin buzzes as she slides it on,warm in a way that means more than regret.

Because no, she can't forget it.

Not with way the Prince had kissed her, the way he had groaned her name while he claimed her with such ferocity like a man starving.

It sends an unwanted but welcomed heat up her neck, and it's not until she reaches the huge doors, that she finally manages to wipe the small smile off her lips.

She clutches the maids uniform tightly as she tries her best to straighten it, trying to make herself look like she hadn't just survived something she doesn't have words for.

Then finally, she pulls the door open.

Not quicky, but gently and quietly, fingers trembling against the handle as she peaks out the crack.

It's suspiciously still empty.

Even the guards are gone.

That alone makes her stomach twist. But at least, she can slip away easily.

Belle steps out quietly, keeping her head down, forcing her breathing to stay even as she walks briskly.

She needs to scrub him off her skin. Scrub him off her before someone smells him on her.

She continues down the hallway trying for normalcy, ignoring the delicious ache as she moves one step after the other.

But her mind still drifts back, to the sound of his heavy breathing, the way he demanded she belonged to him...

She groans loudly, forcing the thoughts down, fastening her steps. And eventually makes it out of the bath hallways, turning the other side as if she's not been completely wrecked.

Belle thinks she's made it to safety. But what she doesn't know, is that a pair of eyes saw her leave the prince's bath all flustered.

Someone that absolutely loathes the idea of them together.

Darian's POV

Darian exhales slowly, staring up at the carved ceiling above him, the dark walls, the dim light through black-bricked windows, mind dragging itself back into focus piece by piece.

He is alone in the massive room, satin sheets wrapping around his sculpted body, but his mind still remembers.

It refuses to quiet.

Because everytime he closes his eyes, the memories come rushing back, uninvited.

The heat of her.

The intoxicating scent.

Her hand in his skin.

The smoothness of her curves.

The sounds.

The...

His jaw tightens, curling under the sheets before he can stop himself. No woman has ever made him loose control like that...made his skin buzz until it became a constant throb in the back of his skull.

He'd tried to avoid her. To stay away.

But the goddess is very cruel.

His rut had come much earlier, cutting his journey to Nevros short. They had to come back abruptly because it was turning unbearable, and his pheromones began affecting the staff with him.

And when he come back into Moonveil, he'd decided to rush to his bath, hopping the cool water would cool him off....

Only to find the very thing he's been running from the past three days... right there.

Darian sits up abruptly, dragging a hand down his face.

How could he forget about her now that he knows what she tastes like. What she sounds like...

"Get a grip!" He murmurs, voice hoarse and low.

His legs swing off the bed as he rises in one sharp motion, his body still carrying a faint trace of her scent, clinging stubbornly and mixing with his scent like a reminder he can't escape from.

That alone is enough to put him on edge.

Because his rut should be over.

It should be done. It always was, after a night of pleasure.

So why...

A knock cuts through his thoughts, loud in a way that could only mean one person was on the other side.

David.

Darian doesn't respond at first, just stands in front of the mirror, tracing the nail marks on his arm, already dreading the conversation.

But as expected, David pulls the door open anyway, his signature infuriating smirk still perched on his lips.

"Ah, you're awake." He says, dropping a cup of tea on the dresser.

Darian doesn't face him immediately. Instead, he reaches for a clean tunic, pulling it over his head before finally turns.

David is already watching him closely.

His gaze sweeps over him once, the way his shoulders seem tense, the clenching of his jaw, the faint crest marks on parts of his arm that fabric doesn't cover.

He cocks a brow, "Your rut ended early..." He comments, not asking.

Darian doesn't reply to the non-question. Just moves past him, pouring himself a glass of water taking a slow sip and completely ignoring the pipping hot tea.

After the long stretch of silence, he finally sets the glass down harder than necessary, jaws tight.

"I handled it."

David's brows shoots up. "With who?"

Darian is silent, so David adds; "I came to your chamber last night to check on you, it was empty."

"None of your business." Darian's expression is hard, but he still doesn't look at him.

David doesn't back down, "No! I told you before...you need to be careful."

Darian growls at him. "Don't tell me what to do." His voice is loud, echoing in the space loud enough that it makes David take a step back instinctively.

It still doesn't stop him though,

"With the way you're acting..." His voice is quieter now, "Was it with her her?"

He exhales slowly, like he already knows the answer. "That maid?"

Darian doesn't confirm it, but he doesn't deny it either...and that's answer enough.

David lets out a quiet curse under his breath, pacing once across the room. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

Darian is tired of the conversation.

"I didn’t mark her!" It comes out too defensive, and suspicious, making David freeze. He turns slowly, realization flickering.

He hadn't asked that... hadn't even thought of it.

That means;

"You almost did?" He supplies in shock, eyes narrowing. "Oh God!"

Darian doesn't answer. Instead his brain unnecessarily supplies the details; Her neck beneath his mouth, the way his wolf had almost made him...

His hand clenches hard on his sides.

He's never been tempted to mark a anyone before, no matter how good the night was. He's upset at himself too, he doesn't need it rubbed in his face.

David also sees the confliction in Darian's eyes.

It makes him sigh, "She's human Darian, and not just any human. She's a Ravelle!!"

"I'm aware."

"Are you?" David presses, "because what you did last night doesn't sound like awareness to me."

Darian's scent spikes, pheromones already mixing with irritate. "Watch your tone around me."

David is frustrated, but he does indeed soften his tone. Because Darian is often calm around him doesn't mean he's not well aware of what he could do...

"I'm only looking out for you Cousin!" he says seriously, "Your coronation is just a few week away. You have alliances to secure, a mate to choose, and instead you’re..." He cuts himself off, dragging a hand through his hair.

He takes a route he once swore not to. Now he has no choice.

His voice drops low, "If you don’t stay away from her…I won't have a choice. The Queen will know."

Darian's eyes instantly snap to him, anger clouding his features. He takes a step closer, imposing frame hovering over David,

"Try it." he bares his fangs, "I dare you!"