071

071
Draco.
His mind was made up. He would go for what he wanted. Her.
Draco had sworn to himself that the gods would never stand in his way of loving this female.
She gave him a second chance at love after saving his life. Draco would stop at nothing in showing her truly what it meant to be his.
He loved the way her thighs pressed around his armor-clad thighs.
Her mint-scented breath wafted over his helmet.
“Are you…” She began, but he cut her off.
“Yes. Let’s put aside our differences this time around.”
Would she? Knowing he’s the man who killed her parents?
That was a difficult decision, Isolde realized, but then she remembered Lucinda’s words.
What if he isn’t the one who murdered them? She thought to herself.
“I do not know how to love a woman appropriately, Isolde. But I will learn. For you, I’ll employ a scholar if I have to. I will cross the nine black oceans to the south to learn what loving a woman appropriately is all about. I am ready to do all that if only you’ll say yes to me.”
He raised her hand over to his chest. Isolde marveled at how his heart was rapidly beating against her palm through the metal.
She flicked her gaze up at him, lips pursing.
“Draco…” Her mind warred with her heart.
This time, Draco cupped her cheek, their faces a hairsbreadth away from each other.
“Say yes to me, please…”
“Why? Why do you all of a sudden want me, Draco?”
He reared back, running his hand through his helmet.
“I’ve never felt something this powerful in so many years. You stir something in me. Something I’ve only felt once in my lifetime.” He bounded back to her, cupping her cheeks. “My heart pounds for you, Isolde. I want when I look at you I’ll be reminded you’re mine. That you won’t leave me. Ever…”
Isolde’s heart skipped beats upon hearing that. She couldn’t stay here. Lucinda deserved a better life than staying here in Abbator with violent men.
“Please….” His eyes pinballed between hers as Draco waited for a response.
“Draco…I…”
“Say yes, Isolde. Be mine.”
“I can’t…” She announced, running short of breath.
Isolde blinked hard just like Draco. Her mind won this time. It made her say that. At that moment, Isolde’s heart roved with rage. Bitterness.
She just rejected her one chance at happiness.
Her eyes slipped close as tears began to gather. Draco pulled his hands away, looking at her in bewilderment. She didn’t want him.
He thought she wanted him? His lashes blinked as he fought back the emotions teetering inside him. His heart clenched with pain.
“I…just can’t…no…” She wrestled against the clog of emotions she felt. “I can’t be yours. I can’t…”
He regarded her wordlessly for a second too long, and without missing a beat, Draco walked away with tensed shoulders.
For the first time since Andriandita’s death, he felt pain. Broken. He felt abandoned, like everyone he ever loved did nothing but abandon him, and nothing hurts more than that.
Nothing hurts more than knowing the person you cherish does not see you in the same way.
As he passed the servants who had been waiting for him at the entrance of the garden with the gift he wanted to give Isolde, he rasped.
“Just give it to her.”
“Aye, my lord.” The servants nodded, bowing as he walked past them with nowhere in mind.
Draco felt the discomfort that usually stirred within him whenever his beast arose.
He could already hear the beast growling as if he felt the same sting of rejection Draco felt.
Mindlessly, Draco stormed into his chamber and banged the door. A roar filled with pain and bitterness tore from his throat.
He angrily removed his helmet and armor and flung them across the room in rage, the metal clanging over the floor.
Stomping to his bed, Draco tore the sheet in anger, roaring.
“She doesn’t want me! She freaking doesn’t want me!”
He crossed over to the chest and pushed it against the floor in aggression. His chest heaving.
He wanted to know what it was like to love a woman again, but Isolde didn’t want him.
“Because I am a monster!” He growled under his breath, panting. “She hasn’t seen me yet she already hates me…” He reached for his jar of ale, knocking it down his throat, the ale spilling from the corner of his mouth down to his jaw.
All that and yet he still felt uncomfortable. Unsatisfied.
His beast paced the edges of his mind, bristling in obvious anger. It drove him to the brink of madness.
Draco knew this kind of rage could make that dark urge arise. The urge to go into the villages and raid his people for blood.
His eyes bulged as he looked into nothing. The anger festering inside him.
“No…” He staggered backward, the jar of ale slipping from his hand and crashing onto the floor.
The liquid spilled all over the floor while Draco tried to fight the dark need arising in him.
When it seemed impossible to control, he reared back, knowing it was time he met him.
His feeder. The man paying for his crimes somewhere in Abbator, no one ever crosses.
Draco barred his door to prevent anyone from coming in as his beast lurked at the surface of his skin, wanting to push out.
He slumped over the floor, tremors wracking through him as he groaned in pain.
His body began to transform painfully hard.
Choppy breaths vibrated from him as his wings began to appear, Isolde’s rejection fueling his rage. Draco had the urge to screech and howl, but he held himself back from doing that.
It'd cause an uproar If the people in the tower heard the noise. That would expose his secret, and Draco wasn’t ready to have anything hinder his eligibility for the Ice Throne.
His huge form lay still on the floor, his amber eyes halfway closed as he panted, waiting for the right time to leave.
Immediately it was pitch-black outside, Draco slipped out onto his balcony. From there, he flew away, his wings flapping in rage as he headed over to where he was.
The bane of his existence.
In record time, Draco reached the old cottage in the glade. He screeched against the window, shifting into his human form, naked.
The old door creaked and rattled as Draco pushed it open. He walked inside tentatively, his eyes adjusting to the pitch-black room that stunk of shit and urine.
His eyes locked on the edge of the room where Draco saw him crouched, looking with wide eyes.
Draco gaited towards him and paused. Venom dripped from his voice as he called, “Father,”
The old, weak male made some incoherent noise as if he wanted to talk, but no words made it out.
“That’s right. You can’t talk. Not anymore,” Draco hissed, his eyes dripping with hatred as he stared at his father.
“I’ve come for it. For your blood.” He announced and saw the way the old man buckled in fear as the closer Draco stepped towards him.
Absently, Draco tugged him to his feet, ignoring the meaningless noise his father made.
He pressed him against the wall and stood behind him. Draco transformed back into his beast and sank his long, dreary fangs into his father.
The Butcher king.
His father yelped in agony as his son drank from him mindlessly.
TBC.