Chapter 12 Take her innocence
“D’Arcy, no one asked.” Queen Elena finally found her voice, her frustration palpable. “She’s a hound—”
“Yet she is my hound! My property!” he retorted, his tone unwavering. “She solidifies our treaty with the werewolves, and I gave my word…”
“You have given your word, yes, but what has come over you, D’Arcy? Why waste your pity on a mere hound? Even Kaya wouldn’t approve of this… shrewd decision—”
“Kaya would understand my commitment to evidence and reason. Had she been alive, you would never have sold your gut to Raven. You are too blinded to see the truth, too lost to feel what’s real…” His counter hung heavily in the air, silence stretching between them like a taut string ready to snap.
Valerio scoffed, torn between the tension of the queen and eyeing where Evyths worked diligently. He struggled to maintain a soothing tone with his mother, but the more he tried, the more his patience frayed.
“All I’ve ever done is nurture you and serve the crown. Certainly, Kaya would understand that, hmm?” she pressed, her voice dripping with frustration.
The prince was hesitant to respond, the weight of their conversation pressing down on him and leaving him seething with anger.
“The moment you brought that Dewwater sorceress into our family as a wife was the very mistake you made. She’s corrupted your senses, split your focus from the very crown you claim to protect. I knew you had lost all dignity! I hope my suspicions are baseless,” he spat, his dark eyes now fixed on Evyths.
“Free the girl,” his voice, low and hoarse, echoed ominously as he strode away, the command lingering in the air like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury.
Elena’s heart sank. Torn between revealing her betrayal to her son or guarding her secrets with Raven—who was ready to expose her at any moment if Valerio kept meddling—she stood frozen.
Secretly, Elena seethed as she watched Evyths working diligently, simmering with disgust. Gaining Valerio’s sympathy was unlike him, and it unnerved her.
She began to fidget with her rings, with a resolve to do as her son had asked. At the same time, Evyths had finished her tasks. When Evyths turned to leave, the queen cleared her throat.
“Huh?!” Evyths jumped, startled by the queen’s almost silent approach.
Collecting herself, she bowed slightly. Her fingers were clutching tightly around the pail’s handle “Your majesty,” she greeted quickly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elena’s gaze bore down on her like a predator sizing up its prey. “What do you think you're doing with my son?” she asked, her tone heavy with suspicion.
Evyths felt her mind swirl, caught off guard by the implication of the question. Yet wondering what the queen meant by that.
Her stomach churned, her face heated up, overwhelmed by the woman’s stinging gaze.
“Not able to speak?” the queen pressed, her voice silky yet menacing.
“Your majesty, I-I don’t understand what you mean by that—” Evyths stammered.
Elena forced a smile and placed a hand on Evyths’ shoulder. The closeness of the gesture felt wrong, a chill racing down Evyths’ spine as her eyes flicked between the queen’s face and her hand.
“Dogs cannot wander alone in a graveyard. Should they do so, they may never see the sun again. Just a friendly… warning,” Elena said, her smile fading to a cold, emotionless mask before she turned on her heel and departed.
“What does that… even mean?” she asked herself. “But I have nothing to do with the prince…” she added, her brows crumpled questionably.
For a brief moment, Evyths stood frozen, pondering the queen’s sinister words—nothing as she had ever heard before.
It sounded like danger to Evyths; slow, dark, and swift.
Once Elena vanished from sight, Evyths hurriedly exited the hall, her heart racing, the words of the vampire queen taking moments to linger in her memory.
As she walked, the unsettling sound of a chuckle drifted from a nearby room. The castle, usually felt like a desert except for the occasional caw of crows that felt eerie and isolated.
A life that Evyths was forcefully adjusted to.
Her pack was earthy and warm. She missed the smell of the greenery, the bland smell of wood and brooding tree barks in the outback.
Unlike the vampires’ castle, it lacked a touch of life, reeked of blood, and felt like an ancient morgue—frigid.
Mid-walking, Evyths had distant laughter that seemed unending. Weird and eerie. Evyths believed that the guards off duty were simply having a time out.
However, she walked further in the hope of reaching her cell and resting her back, her feet leading her closer to the source of the laughter that she was hearing.
Turning on her heel to make a left turn, the door creaked open, and she halted in her tracks, blood simmering in her veins, her eyes unblinking.
A tall, pale man, dressed in noble attire, stepped and shut the door behind him—perhaps leaving behind his interlocutor. A palace official.
He had been discussing the neighboring kingdom’s defeat, and their laughter morphed into mockery.
When the official vanished, he felt a presence approaching which prompted him to use the door when he could have just vanished.
As soon smile on his lips vanished as soon as his crimson gaze landed on her. He inhaled deeply, lingering over her scent, a sinister grin settling on his lips.
“How did a lone hound find her way into the castle of the dead?” he purred, his voice soothing yet laced with manipulation, inviting yet dangerously enchanting.
“Not again, dear goddess. I take every wrong thing said… just spare me this once!” Evyths said under her breath.
Her heart raced in tension, sweat glistening on her light dress.
She could swear that she's never seen the man around the castle before. He was everything destructive but pleasant.
But the palace members, recognized him. He was the prince’s best friend, a duke in the capital.
He approached her with a deliberate slowness, hands clasped behind his back. Circling her like a predator, the moment seemed to stretch into eternity. The bucket in her hand slipped, crashing to the ground, the sharp sound shattering the stillness that had long existed.
She trembled, her legs feeling weak under the weight of the tension building between them. “You look… tasty, lost pup. Gentle and warm,” he murmured from behind her, his voice deepening, the pressure sparked a sense of dread that left her aware of every detail around her.
The more he lingered behind her, the more she sweated profusely. Her chest was clenching and her insides tightened forming a knot.
“Beautiful hair, green eyes, a virgin—that’s precisely my type,” he whispered in her ear.
A whisper that screamed torture and death.
She felt his sharp nails graze her bare neck, his tongue flicking against her skin, her breath caught up in her throat and a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.
The cool breeze stirred the air, sending a shiver down her spine and drawing tears to her eyes.
What is this terror? Evyths asked herself.
As if he read her mind, he said; “Don't be afraid, you are safe with me!” he assured, his fingers lightly tracing her slender arms.
As his hands ventured towards her chest, a swift squeeze aroused a whimper from Evyths. “Please, don’t!” she begged, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation.
But he paid no heed, tearing at her dress effortlessly, the fabric giving way to silence that held its breath, yet no one came to her aid.
It was just her and the monster in human form.
Evyths swallowed hard, her breath hitching as she braced for the worst, a silent prayer to the goddess escaping her lips. “Spare me! Spare me!! Spare me!!!” her whispered pleas only made the vampire chuckle, a sound of triumph triumphantly.
He tilted her head with his cold hand, his fangs brushing dangerously close to her neck, poised to bite...
Then suddenly, “OCTAVIO?” a sturdy voice cut through the tension.
As the man turned, a powerful gust of swirling wind swept him to the far end of the hallway, leaving a slight mark on Evyths’s neck that bled as she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
The prince surged toward her, kneeling beside her, concern etched on his face as he tucked her hair behind her ear, gently holding her head.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his deep baritone filled with worry as he scanned her body for signs that she had been untouched by his friend.
Yet the scent of her blood lingered in the air, drawing Octavio’s attention like a moth to flame.
One thing Valerio was aware of was the curse that still lived, making Octavio hunt particularly virgins of all kinds.
From a war that broke out five decades ago, he touched a forbidden sacred sculpture that led to his current fate. He carried that curse—a curse that morphed into his obsession and devastation.
“Give her to me, brother! I promise, I'll find you another virgin…” Octavio pleaded, his menacing presence creeping upon them, offering Valerio a moment to contemplate the impossibility of the situation.
Valerio carefully lowered her head to the ground and rose to face Octavio, blocking his path.
The prince was bent on protecting Evyths, no matter the curse. He understood that she didn't to be touched by his kind—even as a promise that he made. Now was it just duty and honor or was there something more than the physical?
Valerio couldn't pinpoint it.
“No, you can't have her—not this one!” Valerio declared, his voice steady but his hands clenched into fists, showcasing the conflict forming within.
“Her smell…” Octavio wrestled with desire, the captivating scent of Evyths’s blood pulling him closer as he trembled with an unbeatable need. “Uhhh! I can't resist…”
“Calm down,” Valerio urged, grappling with his own feelings while attempting to rein in his friend.
Undoubtedly, Evyths was a rare kind. A chosen gem by the moon goddess.
Her blood’s scent was an imprint of divinity. To vampires, especially males, it enchanted them even against their will. To werewolves, they failed to regard her, using her status to dictate her fate.
Valerio, on the other hand, fought his instincts deeper. Battling between his defense for Evyths and his nature.
But, the unbeatable urge to protect her tendered him more or less vulnerable in Octavio’s eyes.
Questioning the prince’s actions over what they both called ‘a slave hound’.
“I can't. I can't control it—it’s too overwhelming, Valerio—you know it!” Octavio’s voice quivered, the dangerously potent desire for Evyths loomed over them both.
“Then do what you must, take her innocence, at least the urge will fade if she's no longer a virgin. Help me resist her,” Octavio said, stepping forward, the stakes of their bond hanging precariously in the balance.
Valerio was left amidst a storm, could he ever bring himself to take Evyths’ virginity the way Octavio was demanding?