The moment the blood pact was sealed, the stagnant air within the dungeon seemed stirred by an invisible force.
Lucifer withdrew his hand, the wound on his wrist vanished without a trace. Only the fleeting crimson totem on the iron bars bore witness to the bond just forged. The storm within his crimson pupils had not yet subsided, yet it settled into a gaze that was deeper, more focused. The price he had paid must be repaid with her "value"—with her submission, her "willingness," to fill the irritating sense of loss of control brought on by this temporary "concession."
"Click."
The heavy iron lock clicked open. The guard approached silently, releasing the chains binding Lin Xi to the wall, though the shackles marking her prisoner status remained on her wrists and ankles.
Lin Xi steadied herself against the cold wall, struggling to her feet. Prolonged confinement and pain made her legs tremble, darkness threatening to cloud her vision. Yet she clenched her teeth, forcing herself to steady her stance through sheer willpower. She couldn't show weakness now, especially before him.
Lucifer didn't glance back. Turning, he strode toward the dungeon exit with deliberate, oppressive steps. His voice came coldly, devoid of emotion: "Follow."
It was both an order and a test.
Lin Xi took a deep breath, dragging her heavy shackles as she followed step by step behind him. The chains scraped against the cold floor, producing a monotonous, humiliating sound in the silent passageway. With every step, her body screamed in pain and exhaustion, yet her gaze grew increasingly clear.
She emerged from the damp, gloomy dungeon back into the brightly lit palace area, where an invisible sense of oppression still hung heavy. Wolf Clan guards and servants encountered along the way bowed their heads deeply, unable to meet Lucifer's gaze as they sensed the low, oppressive pressure radiating from him. When their eyes swept over Lin Xi trailing behind—clothed in rags, shackled, yet standing with spine rigidly straight—shock and disbelief flashed in every gaze.
The King had actually brought this sacrificial offering who had offended him... out of the dungeon?
Lucifer strode directly toward his private chambers.
It was a space more private than the throne room, yet still radiating power and authority. Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows lay the stark nightscape of snow-capped mountains. Inside, thick animal-skin rugs covered the floor, ancient weapons and trophies hung upon the walls, and a roaring fireplace banished the chill while reflecting the untamed wildness within its master's character.
The heavy chamber doors closed behind him, sealing out the outside world.
Lucifer finally halted, turning to face away from the dancing flames. His figure was submerged in the interplay of light and shadow. He watched Lin Xi slowly approach, his gaze tangible as it swept over the sweat on her pale face, over the exposed skin and scars beneath her torn garments, finally settling on her eyes—eyes that still refused to yield.
"Prove your worth," he repeated, his voice carrying with piercing clarity through the empty chambers. "Please me."
Spoken with detached calm, his words carried the weight of a superior's judgment. This was not the ambiguous request of lovers, but the command of a master to his possession.
Lin Xi's heart pounded heavily within her chest. She knew the true trial had only just begun. The blood contract restricted his use of violent coercion, yet he still held absolute home-field advantage and the sole authority to judge.
She did not move immediately. Instead, dragging her shackles, she walked step by step to the center of the room. Standing upon the soft, expensive animal hide, she met his gaze.
"Please you?" She tilted her head slightly, disheveled strands of hair falling across her cheek as a faint, mocking curve touched her lips. "Like those Omegas begging for His Majesty's favor, wagging their tails in supplication?" She shook her head gently, chains clinking softly. "That would likely... disappoint His Majesty."
She began to move.
Instead of approaching him, she walked toward a decorative yet still sharp silver dagger hanging on the wall. Under Lucifer's suddenly piercing gaze, she extended her shackled hand and grasped the hilt.
"Ssssh—"
She sucked in a sharp breath as the blade sliced her palm. Blood surged forth, dripping through her fingers onto the pristine animal hide, spreading into a vivid crimson stain.
Yet she didn't release it. Instead, she tightened her grip, letting the pain jolt her nearly numb nerves. Then she turned to face Lucifer, raising her bleeding hand.
"My worth," she gazed at him, her eyes like burning stars, "lies not in obedience, but in... being one of a kind."
She did not point the dagger at him. Instead, she slashed violently at her own shirt—already torn and tattered beyond repair!
"Rip!"
The fabric tore cleanly, stripped from her body with decisive precision and tossed to the ground. Now, her upper body was covered only by a blood-stained white bandage tightly wrapped around her chest. Her flat abdomen, the distinct outline of her ribs, the bite mark on her shoulder that belonged to him, and countless tiny scrapes and bruises were all exposed to the warm, suggestive air—exposed to his burning gaze.
The cold air made her skin break out in tiny goosebumps, her body trembling slightly, yet she stood perfectly straight, like a spiked flower blooming in the snowstorm.
"This body," her voice carried a faint gasp born of pain, yet remained crystal clear, "is the source of Your Majesty's curiosity, and also the vessel you... yearn to mark."
She raised her bleeding hand, dipping her fingertips in her own blood. With a ritualistic, almost unnerving precision, she began at the hollow of her collarbone, tracing a slow, downward path across her chest. A twisted line of blood was drawn upon her flat abdomen.
"Now, it is here." She met his eyes, now a bottomless crimson, challenging him word by word, "Your Majesty, how do you intend to... 'please' yourself?"
She tossed the choice back to him in a manner that was audacious, humiliating, and yet irresistibly tempting.
Would he continue crushing her with force, ultimately claiming a soulless shell?
Or would he lower himself to a game of conquest he'd never known—one where "equality" was the stake?
Lucifer stood rooted to the spot, the furnace flames dancing behind him, casting his sharply defined face in half-light and shadow. He watched her nearly naked, scarred yet defiantly upright body. He saw the streak of her own scorching blood at her fingertips. He inhaled the complex scent in the air—a blend of crisp freshness and the tang of blood that made his pulse race.
His Adam's apple bobbed as primal Alpha instincts and a more complex desire, ignited by her reckless act, raged within him.
He did not move.
But the dark currents churning in his crimson pupils held a danger far greater than any action.
[Time Remaining: 1 hour 33 minutes]