Chapter 175
Grand Lord Vladya stood in his chambers' doorway, feeling refreshed. A court proceeding was underway, but he found it hard to leave. His body still hummed with satisfaction as he watched Aekeira curled peacefully beneath the sheets in his bed. The sight of her there, in his territory, vulnerable and unguarded, affected him deeply. He felt possessive, protective. His instincts buzzed with pleasure and lightness, a stark contrast to the darkness and void he'd known.
Vladya should have been in court, attending to neglected duties. Yet, he lingered at the threshold. Yaz stood beside him, surprisingly not urging him along, even though they were late. Vladya couldn't tear his gaze from the sleeping figure.
He sighed deeply. His memories of his episodes were vague; some were clear, others elusive. He still couldn't believe he'd disrespected Daemonikai, much less attacked him twice with lethal intent. He'd also rejected every woman offered to him—though that didn't surprise him. He’d known for some time who his body truly desired, even before his symptoms worsened.
Aekeira sighed softly, murmuring incoherently before settling back to sleep. She was disgustingly pretty, annoyingly stunning. He could watch her sleep all day. This thought, along with many others he was having about her, alarmed him. But she had listened to him, offering comfort without judgment. Her unexpectedly kind words soothed a part of him he thought long dead; they had no reason to affect him so profoundly. He wanted to share more with her. He hadn't effortlessly wanted to share anything with anyone outside his small circle of friends in ages.
Who would have thought he, Grand Lord Vladya, Master of the Western Clans and hater of humans, would have a human woman in his bed and, instead of killing her, be watching her sleep? Memorizing her features, branding her beautiful form into his mind. Vladya huffed. He'd taken Aekeira intending to extinguish his lust, but it only intensified with every moment, every encounter. Aekeira was a lethal, sweet, addictive drug—incurable.
A smile from her, and he fantasized about subduing her, possessing her until she could barely walk. Everything about her turned him on, got under his skin. This was a heartbreak waiting to happen, for her, perhaps even for him. "I wish to stay. Take what you need from me," her voice echoed in his memory, soothing him again. The girl was terrible at controlling her feelings, and he seemed just as bad.
Grand Lord Ottai stood near the court scribes, only half-listening to the proceedings. His gaze drifted towards Vladya, observing him subtly. Was Vladya alright? Was his state of mind improved? These days, with Vladya, one could never be sure.
Ottai couldn't shake the shock from Blackstone; the memory was vivid. He never imagined Vladya would be attracted to the little princess, the same human girl he'd hated. What Ottai witnessed went beyond attraction; it was a strong fixation. "I might as well satisfy my desires with that girl and be done with it. I am done fighting my urges," Ottai recalled Vladya snarling on the night the new slaves were introduced. Clearly, the desire was far from extinguished; it seemed stronger than ever.
The creak of a chair pulled Ottai from his thoughts. "I think Lord Belzebob is right," Lord Gaff said, rising. "In the kingdom of mages, their strategic position, like our own, presents similar challenges and opportunities. An alliance could deter aggression from common enemies."
Grand King Daemonikai sat on his throne, listening intently, his quill moving across the parchment. He had much work to catch up on after his recent absence. Seeing him focused and in control was emotional for Ottai—just like the old days. "It says here…" the grand king traced the text, "…that a summit could serve as the initial step." He looked up. "Is that the course of action you propose for this strengthened bond, Diplomatic Affairs?"
Lord Belzebob rose, nodding confidently. "Yes, Your Highness. A summit would…"
Daemonikai roared. The suddenness startled everyone; some lords nearly fell from their chairs, others looked terrified. The grand king sprang from his throne, the table rattling, parchment scattering. His second roar was even louder, shaking the walls. "What is going on…!?" someone shouted. "Your Grace!?" another voice cried, filled with concern. "Are you alright, Your Grace!?" a third added. More voices joined, but their words were lost in the growing agitation, murmurs of wariness, fear, and confusion.
Vladya quickly moved to Daemonikai's side. "What is it, Daemon? Are you alright?" Ottai also hurried closer, worried. What the hell was going on?
King Daemonikai shifted. The change was so rapid it was jarring. One moment, the grand king stood before them; the next, his beastly form had taken his place—massive, lethal, and unhappy. The court froze; concern turned to terror. Everyone stiffened, afraid. This was anything but normal.
"Your Grace?" Vladya was more worried than Ottai had ever seen him. "What is—"
The beast turned, roaring again. Vladya bared his throat. "What the—" Ottai quickly followed suit, as did the other lords. All heads tilted, necks bared, hoping to appease the beast's rage. What in Ukra's sacred butt was happening? Who had provoked their grand king?
Ottai was confused and worried, bracing himself for the inevitable pheromone release. But it didn't come. Instead, the beast turned and fled the court, not with a predator's calculated stride, but in a desperate sprint, faster than Ottai had ever seen. As if nothing else mattered but reaching its destination.