She stood at the front of his chambers, staring at the door, then hesitantly knocked.
"Come in," came the curt reply. His deep voice reverberated through her.
She opened the door and walked in. The light illuminated the room.
The chambers were bathed in gold. It was the most beautiful sight she had seen, but the situation wasn't exactly favoring Seraphine's sense of exploration and appreciation. She could only stare at the big man who occupied one side of the room. At thirty-five years old, she had never seen a man who looked more larger than life than King Draven.
Watching him as he stuck a feather into the ink on the table, withdrew it, and continued scribbling down on the scroll before him, it was hard to believe that this man had ever been a slave.
But he was. For ten whole years he endured unspeakable tortures at the hands of her father. Now, he was paying it back.
The king raised his head finally and stared at Seraphine, holding the feather and watching her blatantly. All over her, his eyes crawling through her skin like hands. Seraphine shivered. His eyes were cold. Pure contempt filled his features. Seraphine wondered if this man would ever know what it was like to smile.
Slowly, the king pushed his chair back, still staring at her. "Remove the robe," he commanded.
Seraphine hesitated.
His eyes flashed dangerously and he licked his lips calculatingly.
Seraphine forced her hands to move. She pulled the robe from her body, leaving her only in clothlessness.
His eyes never left her face. "Let's get one thing straight, slave. The next time I address you and you don't respond, well, I will take out a whip and design your back with twenty strokes. Are we clear?"
Seraphine's eyes turned tormented. She hid it immediately so he wouldn't see how affected she was.
"Yes… Master," she spoke, trying to hide her defiance. A word that was supposed to portray submission portrayed pure rebellion.
If he noticed, he said nothing. He got up and slowly walked around the table, then leaned against it and pinned her with cold eyes.
"Strip." One word. One command.
Rebellion fled with that one word. "Please…" she whispered impulsively. But she knew she had already made a mistake.
Like a panther, he stalked closer to her, and it took everything in her not to step back from him.
He yanked her hair so hard her head snapped back, and she bit her lips to keep from crying out from the pain. There was nothing like remorse in his eyes, only hatred so raw it chilled her. "You either strip or I call the guards to help you."
Her hands went to the neck of her robe, and she started untying the ropes that held the clothing together. Undressed completely, she allowed the robe to fall to the ground. She felt panic and helplessness in her situation. A question had been pricking her since all this began.
She had to ask. Even if it would cause her to be punished, she must ask this. "Why me?" she whispered.
Gray, emotionless eyes met hers, his brows arched.
"Why not my father? Why me?" she asked hoarsely.
He kept silent, raising his hand to caress her face. He raised her chin up. "Why me, Seraphine?"
"I‑I don't understand."
"My father was on the throne when your father attacked us. My mother was with Elira, my pregnant little sister, and I was just twenty years old. Why did your father kill them all and take me captive?" His voice was low, deadly, and emotionless.
He had a sister who was pregnant? Tears burned the back of Seraphine's eyes because all this wasn't looking any good for her.
"For the past fifteen years, I asked myself that question. Why me?"
he growled. "Why kill all my family and take only me to hell?"
Seraphine was speechless. She clamped her mouth shut. She didn't know the answer to that.
Cold eyes trailed her neck as she swallowed.
"Do you know my greatest anger when I look at you?"
Seraphine shook her head helplessly.
He caressed the collar on her neck—the collar that branded her. "You're the only child he has. Why did he have to have just one child? You're not enough for what I have in mind, Seraphine. You, alone, cannot bear the brunt of my hate and anger. You, alone, cannot take all the demons I have to unleash."
A chill spread all over Seraphine's body with each sentence he let out. Each of them emphasized feelings that grew for years—feelings that grew and nurtured deep inside him.
His dead eyes finally met hers again. "You, Seraphine, might not be enough…but you'll do. Now, get on the bed."
Seraphine's ears still rang from everything he said to her. Her eyes stung with tears. Why did her father have to do all those things? Why did he have to be addicted to gaining power?
Her hands trembled as she removed her underthings, leaving her completely naked in front of him. Tonight, she'd lose her virginity in the cruelest way: in the hands of the coldest man she had ever known. But she'd bear it with dignity. She was a princess. No—she was a princess. She was born with regality and was trained to carry herself with pride and to be a proper lady.
But this is her fate now. A fate she can't escape. She raised her chin and awaited his next command.
"Get on to the bed. Face down. Legs spread." There was no expression in his eyes. Just hate.
She climbed the bed, pressed her face on the bed, and spread her legs. She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable, her arms trembling slightly.
Being optimistic, she tried to focus on the fact that this was the first soft bed she was lying on for the first time in a long time. She allowed the pleasure of it to wash over her.
Then he grabbed her hips, his fingers biting into her flesh, and she felt his penis nudge at her opening. Her eyes snapped open at the feel of his large penis.
Seraphine was no stranger to a man's anatomy—she had seen a lot of naked slaves before—but she never thought one could be as big as what was pressing into her body, searching for something.
He must have found what he was looking for because he grunted his approval. As he adjusted his knees on the bed, the small pleasure she felt disappeared when he pulled back out and began to push in.
She sucked in a startled breath as his short thrust quickly became painful, and she held her breath and waited for it to happen.
Breathing hard, he held her by the hips, and when he pulled back and then pushed forward with one long, hard thrust, bottoming out inside of her, she cried out in agonizing pain, gritting her teeth so much her jaw went numb.
He stilled completely, and she let out a tear-filled whimper she couldn't begin to control. It hurt more than she expected it would. So, so much.
He pulled back and shoved into her again. She swiveled her head, buried her face in the bed, and screamed, twisting her trembling body away from his brutal possession. But his strong hands caged her, holding her body immobile. He covered her with his body and plunged into her repeatedly, the force of his thrusts pressing her unrelentingly deeper into the bed.
Only her pained cries were heard in the golden room, none of his. Not even a grunt.
Although he took her fiercely like an animal, Seraphine would have sworn he was restraining himself. It made her wonder if he'd break her in two if he didn't.
The fierce thrusts went on and on, then suddenly, he pulled away from her completely.
Seraphine stilled, lying on the bed, unable to move her body. She cried softly into the bed.
"Get out of my room," he commanded, walking away without a backward glance at her. She heard the door open and close behind him with a bang.