Chapter 4 THE BLACK INK.
Venessa’s POV.
The sound coming from the King wasn’t human. It was a low, distorted growl of pure agony that made my skin crawl.
I stood frozen, clutching Elara’s letter. Run, it said. Run before the moon turns red.
My brain screamed at me to bolt, but my feet were glued to the floor.
The golden "bond" I’d felt at the altar wasn't just a hum anymore. It was a frantic, pulsing vibration in my chest, pulling me toward him.
"Get... out!" he choked out.
He was on his knees, his claws digging into the wooden floorboards.
His shirt was hung open, and my breath hitched as a web of black, pulsing veins crawled across his chest like a living poison. It looked oily, dark, and hungry.
"You're hurting," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
"I said leave!" He looked up, his eyes flashing a terrifying, milky white.
He collapsed then, his forehead hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Logic told me to let him suffer. He has treated me like trash all day. He had wiped his mouth after our kiss like I was something disgusting he stepped in.
But the pull was too strong. I walked towards him and dropped to my knees beside him.
"Don't touch me," he rasped.
I ignored him. I reached out and pressed my palm flat against the center of that black mark.
I felt the darkness on his skin leap toward me, trying to bite into my palm, but my blood felt like it was boiling it away. A gasp escaped my lips as the energy surged through us both.
The black veins recoiled. They didn't vanish, but they retreated, sinking back under his skin until they were just faint, bruised shadows.
The King’s breathing leveled out. The white glow in his eyes faded, leaving behind that icy, piercing blue. He stayed there for a moment, his face inches from mine, smelling of expensive bourbon.
He grabbed my wrist, his eyes staring me down.
"What did you just do?" he demanded. The disgust from earlier was gone, replaced by shock.
"I saved your life," I snapped, wrenching my arm back. "A 'thank you' would be a nice change of pace."
He stood up, towering over me.
Then looked down at his chest and back at me. Surprise and anger was a weird look on him.
He looked like he wanted to kill me and kiss me at the same time.
"Your sister knew something. She knew the King of the Lycans was rotting from the inside out. She knew being my Queen meant being consumed by this darkness."
So he knew?
“You knew I wasn’t your bride?”
He cleared his throat. “The wedding dress and I overheard your conversation with your father.”
Of course.
I stood up, brushing the dust off my skirt.
I felt different. Stronger. "Well, Elara always was the smart one. But I’m the one who’s still here."
He stepped into my space, forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him. He was a monster, a jerk, and a liar. But he was also mine. The bond was screaming it.
"Do not think this makes us equals, Venessa," he warned, though his voice lacked its usual bite.
"I don't want to be your equal," I said, leaning in until our chests almost touched. "I want to be the woman you can't live without. And based on what just happened, I think I’m already there."
A flicker of something—admiration? Anger? passed through his eyes.
"Go to sleep," he commanded, turning his back on me. "The Elders will expect you at breakfast. Try to look like a Queen and not a victim."
"Is that your way of saying goodnight?"
He stopped at the door, "That’s my way of telling you to stay alive. The shadow is the least of your problems in this castle."
He slammed the door, leaving me alone in the dark.