YOUR DAUGHTER.

CHAPTER FIVE.

KAEL’s POV.

I woke up calling her name.

Again.

My eyes snapped open, and darkness surrounded me. For several seconds, I lay still, breathing heavily as I stared at the ceiling. Another dream, another night where my mind had betrayed me, I turned my head toward the grandfather clock. Past midnight.

Again.

I sat up slowly.

The dream was already fading, but I could still remember her face. She had been standing beneath the moon. Just as she had eight years ago. Her silver dress had moved with the wind, her hair falling over her shoulders.

She had been smiling at me. Not the smile she gave me yesterday. Not the cold, polite expression of a stranger. The smile she used to give me, the one that belonged to me.

Then she had reached for me, and every time, I woke up before I could touch her.

I dragged a hand over my face. Pathetic.

Eight years. Eight years and I was still dreaming about the same woman, the woman who murdered my whole family. I should be dreaming about ways to kill her.

Two thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two days and I still dreamt about her.

I swung my legs off the king-sized bed in the middle of my stone-walled private chamber. My chamber, which was five feet thick, was buried deep beneath the foundations of the Silver Crest fortress. I had designed it this way eight years ago, I had soundproofed it with layers of moss and heavy tapestries, not to keep enemies out, but to keep my own screams in.

The Moon was nearing its peak, and I could feel the familiar, sickening crawl of my skin.

I collapsed against the cold stone floor, my breath coming in jagged hitches. My golden robes were discarded in a heap in the corner. I didn’t deserve to wear them, and I didn’t know why. I just get this feeling that makes me feel undeserving.

“Stop,” I wheezed, my fingers curling into claws, knowing what was about to happen. “Stop it.”

My wolf didn’t listen, he never did.

The pain started in my chest, a white-hot searing sensation as if someone were pouring molten lead into my veins. Then came the tearing. I watched, trapped in my own body, as my right hand moved against my will. My claws extended, sharp and gleaming in the low candlelight, and ripped across my own ribs.

I didn’t shift. He wouldn’t let me shift. He just punished the flesh I inhabited.

I screamed, the sound echoing off the soundproofed walls. Blood, dark and thick, began to pool on the floor. The scar under my eyes throbbed, this was my ritual, this was the secret of the “Black Alpha King.” The world thought I was a ruthless conqueror who ate pain for breakfast. They didn’t know I was the one being eaten.

For eight years, I had searched for a cure. I had consulted healers, burned ancient herbs, and even threatened the Moon Priestesses I visited. Nothing worked. My wolf had rejected every female I tried to take as a mate. Whenever a woman touched my skin, the beast inside me would turn into a whirlwind of teeth and rage, shredding my own skin and mind until I went black with agony.

They thought I was cursed by the Goddess, but I thought I was just insane.

I crawled across the floor, my vision blurring. I reached for the hidden compartment behind the heavy oak wardrobe. My hands were shaking, slick with my own boood, but I managed to find what I was looking for.

I pulled out a bundle of grey silk.

It was an eight-year-old robe that belonged to Lyra. The woman who had stood over my mother’s cooling body with her blood on her hands. The woman I had cast out into the winter.

I buried my face in the fabric. The scent was almost gone. It was just a ghost of mountain air and sweet nectar, buried under layers of dust and time.

But as I inhaled like I normally do, the beast in my chest suddenly went still.

The searing in my veins cooled. The claws retracted. My wolf, who had been trying to rip his way out of my heart, let out a low and satisfied sigh and curled up in the darkness of my mind. I slumped against the wardrobe, gasping, clutching the robe to my chest like a dying man clings to a cross.

The irony, the woman who killed my family, her robe was what made the pain go away, even if it was just for a few minutes because I knew that the pain would come back again. It was just a quick fix.

“I hate you,” I whispered into the silk with so much agony. “I hate you for killing my family, I hate you for leaving me like this.”

A growl rose from my throat again.

“No.” I groaned.

My claws came out, and I grabbed my chest. The pain became worse. My wolf slammed against my ribs.

I doubled over.

“Stop.” It didn’t. My claws dug into my skin. Blood warmed my fingers. I gritted my teeth.

“Stop!” The pain exploded, and I fell to my knees again, a scream tore out of me. It tore through the chamber.

I pressed my forehead against the cold floor, my breathing ragged.

“What do you want from me?” My wolf answered with a howl. I clenched my fists. “I don’t know what you want.”

Another wave of pain hit and I screamed. My claws ripped deeper into my chest.

This continued for what felt like minutes or maybe hours, I didn’t know. I blacked out in the pain, it was too much, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I just wanted to sleep. I’ve not been able to sleep properly for eight years now, I would sleep for two hours and wake up after dreaming about her and go through this.

It was the same thing every damn night. I just want to sleep.

The pain subsided when I managed to bring the robe to my nose again.

A knock sounded on my door and I raised an eyebrow, it’s late. Who could that be?

“Alpha King.” It was the voice of my Beta, he never showed up unless it was important.

“What is it?” I said, removing the pain from my voice and answering like a King should.

“It’s your daughter.”