6. THE CALL OF HER SCENT
Chapter six
THE CALL OF HER SCENT
There was something captivating about the young woman standing before him.
Grand King Daemonikai observed the princess. Her wide, startled blue eyes, the nervous fidgeting. That amongst other things piqued his interest.
She was very beautiful—both in human and Urekai standards. Her luxurious black hair, cascading down to her waist, framed a delicate face with rosy lips that she chewed anxiously. The way the velvet gown clung to her figure, revealing every subtle dip and swell, ignited a spark of... something within him.
However, it was not her beauty that had first caught his attention, it was her scent.
Princess Galilea had the most enticing scent he had encountered in a long time. A scent that drew him in. Made him crave more.
"Your Grace?" she rasped.
"I came out for some fresh air," he explained. "Your betrothed is occupied with matters inside. I was hoping you might show me around. It has been centuries since I last visited the estate."
He noticed her nervousness increase. "Do not worry, Galilea, you are not obligated to—"
"I’d like to," she cut in, her voice barely audible.
Realizing she had spoken aloud, she blushed and cleared her throat. "I would like to, Your Grace," she repeated, her voice steadier this time.
Daemonikai led the way, and she followed beside him. He was acutely aware of her presence, her captivating scent filling his senses.
She smelled of nature. Of lemongrass after a refreshing rain. Earthy, with a hint of a unique floral aroma that stirred something deep within him. It was a combination of everything he loved about the natural world.
And for some inexplicable reason, she felt... familiar.
"Have we met before?" Daemonikai asked.
Galilea stumbled, nearly losing her footing.
Daemonikai's reflexes were lightning-fast. His hands shot out, encircling her shoulder and waist, steadying her before she could fall.
For a fleeting moment, he held her close, their bodies pressed together. A jolt of lightning coursed through him, and he found himself strangely reluctant to let go.
Ukrae , she felt good in his arms.
Cradled in his embrace, the princess's expressive blue eyes met his, almost sad.
"No, Your Grace. We have not met before," she said softly, at last.
Of course, they had not. Daemonikai was certain he would remember meeting someone as captivating as this young female. And yet...
He was not a naive fool. If there was something he knew, it was that inhaling this intoxicating scent up close—a smell that stirred his body and awakened a dormant hunger within him, was a very bad idea. Yet, he could not bring himself to let her go just yet.
Even his beast stirred, a low growl rumbling deep inside him.
Since his return from the feral state, his beast had retreated into a state of hibernation. As if seeking to sleep off the centuries of madness they had endured.
Daemonikai did not mind. He had no intention of taking his beast form anytime soon.
Emeriel forced herself to step back from the grand king's embrace. "Thank you, Your Grace."
As they resumed their walk, a tingling sensation spread through her body, her heart pounding in her chest. Why did the universe seem to delight in her suffering? Why was she constantly subjected to these trials?
No, Your Grace, we have not met before.
Another lie to add to the growing list of deceptions weighing heavily on her conscience. It was necessary for her survival, but it still stung.
She was no longer Prince Emeriel, nor was she simply Slave Emeriel. She was Princess Galilea, a betrothed to a Urekai high lord.
She needed to start acting the part, instead of yearning to be back in those strong arms, safe and protected.
"Why are you so nervous around me, Princess?" King Daemonikai questioned, in that rich voice that made her jittery on the inside.
How to answer that question? Emeriel opted for a half-truth. "Well, you are the grand king," she said, her voice holding a slight tremor. "I have heard many stories about you, and frankly, they are enough to make anyone nervous. I am sure I am not the only one who feels this way."
For the first time, the corners of his lips twitched upwards, hinting at a smile that never fully bloomed. "You are not," he admitted. "You may relax, Princess. I assure you, I will not harm you."
"Not even because I am human? I know you don’t like my kind." The words fell from her lips before she could stop them.
Daemonikai's stride faltered, and he stiffened beside her.
"Please forgive me," Emeriel pleaded, mortified. "I have no idea what came over me."
He continued walking, his hands clasped behind his back, the tension gradually easing from his shoulders.
Silence enveloped them, broken only by the sounds of nature and the rustling of leaves beneath their feet.
They reached the garden, and Emeriel couldn't suppress a smile. This tranquil oasis had always been her favorite part of the estate, even back in Ravenshadow.
"Would you like to see the garden, Your Grace?" she offered, hoping to steer the conversation away from her earlier blunder.
His eyes met hers, and once again, Emeriel found herself trapped in his intense gaze.
He was doing it again, staring at her with a concentration that thrilled and unnerved her. There was no shyness, no pretense of gentlemanly decorum in his gaze. Grand King Daemonikai stared, his eyes penetrating her very soul.
Emeriel flushed under his scrutiny, her insides burning. She had never been looked at in such a way before.
"Your Grace?" she asked, uncertain.
"Lead the way, please," he said, his deep voice a velvety caress.
Emeriel obeyed, her heart racing as she guided him through the garden. All too happy to break the eye-connection.
She could feel his heat behind her with every step, a constant reminder of his potent presence. They strolled leisurely along a winding stone path, the garden unfolding before them like a vibrant tableau of color. Tall, ivy-clad walls enclosed the space, creating an intimate haven that seemed to shut out the outside world. The garden was carefully arranged, with symmetrical beds overflowing with medicinal herbs, fragrant flowers, and useful plants like lavender, chamomile, and rosemary.
Emeriel pointed to a bed of vibrant blue blossoms. "These are borage flowers, Your Grace. Not only are they beautiful, but they are also known to uplift the spirit. According to folklore, they instill courage and comfort the heart."
Why was she telling him this? Perhaps it was because she hoped by engaging him, she could prolong their time together.
This was a stolen moment. A precious encounter she had never dared to imagine. In its wickedness, fate had somehow found a way to bring this male to her.
The grand king seemed intrigued. He leaned closer, examining the star-shaped blooms with a curious gaze. "Courage from a flower, you say?" he mused. "That is indeed fascinating. And they are quite pleasing to the eye."
"Yes, indeed," Emeriel agreed, a smile gracing her lips as she led him towards another garden section. Rows of lavender stretched out in a soothing purple wave. "And here we have lavender. Its uses are numerous. Aside from its calming fragrance, believed to aid sleep, it is also used in remedies for skin ailments and added to teas for its relaxing properties."
King Daemonikai brushed his fingers against the lavender, releasing its distinctive aroma. "Ah, I am familiar with this one," he said, a shadow passing over his face. "My bondmate was quite fond of its fragrance. We used to keep sachets of dried lavender in our chambers."
Oh… Dangerous ground.
Emeriel bit her lips. "I am sorry for your loss," she whispered.
He said nothing, only walked away from the lavender, his steps measured and deliberate. As they moved deeper into the garden, the silence lingered, heavy with unspoken tension.
"Even the lavender does not help with sleep," he finally spoke again. "Nor do any of the medicinal herbs."
"You do not sleep well?" Emeriel asked.
"I do not sleep at all," he corrected, his tone flat. "Perhaps it is for the best."
He stopped abruptly, turning to face her, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.
"You asked if I hate humans. The answer is yes. Some days, I feel as though I cannot breathe for the sheer hatred that consumes me towards your kind." He spoke calmly, but his words carried a chilling weight. "I spend countless hours, time I cannot afford to waste, lost in thoughts of vengeance. Visuals of retribution. I wonder how I can possibly alleviate this pain. To make it even a fraction less unbearable. Should I burn the world down? Set it ablaze and watch it crumble to ashes?" His head tilted to the side. "I could do it, and I would not feel a shred of remorse."
Emeriel shivered, the hairs on her arms standing on end.
"Some days, I wish I had never returned. I wish I had died that night. Being a survivor is not a blessing when one has lost everything that matters. I am a mess inside, little princess. There is a dark void within me," he stated, placing a hand over his heart. "A void that was created the night they took everything from me in the Vortex Hall. Just one night of weakness every five hundred years. Just one night broke my kingdom, my people, my rulers."
He turned away, casually resuming his walk with that same sophisticated stride. "I suppose I must give credit to the humans," he mused thoughtfully. "They managed to accomplish what countless other species have attempted and failed to do for over five thousand years. They succeeded in breaking me."
Emeriel blinked back tears, her heart shattering into a thousand pieces.
Unlike Lord Vladya, who seethed with anger when discussing the tragedy, King Daemonikai spoke of his loss with an unsettling lack of emotion. Her Beloved is in far greater pain than she could have ever imagined.
She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to reach out and offer comfort. She could feel his agony in her chest. Like a thousand daggers piercing her heart.
He paused, his gaze drifting towards a vibrant row of flowers. "However, I am a leader. Do you know what that means, young princess? It means I must bury my pain, for my people will always come first. I cannot succumb to the vengeance that gnaws at me—not because I lack the power, but because it is not what my people need right now. They need to rebuild, to find solace and a semblance of normalcy. My duty as their king is to guide and show them how to move forward, even when I am lost."
His gaze returned to her like green flames in a darkened forest. "Do I hate humans? With every fiber of my being, and every ounce of my soul. I never want to have anything to do with any of them. Ever."
Emeriel saw now, with a clarity she had lacked before, the wisdom behind Lord Vladya's actions. His insistence on scent suppressants and distance.
She had seen it mostly as punishment and an act of cruelty. But he had actually protected her, shielded her from the wrath of a broken king. Lord Vladya was right; he had done her a favor.
"Why are you telling me this?" She swallowed hard, her eyes searching his for answers.
"I have no idea," he admitted with a shrug. "Perhaps it is easier to overlook you as you are betrothed to one of My Lords, and if he has accepted you, as his ruler, I am trying to do the same?"
His head tilted slightly, in thought. “Perhaps, because I do not feel that usual agitation in your presence, even though you are human? Is it because you are a Syren? Or is it your scent? Perhaps it's because I have no personal ties to you, no connection whatsoever. I cannot say for certain, young princess."
That means if we had any connection, his attitude toward me would have been entirely different.
Wait. "My scent?"
Emeriel paled. She didn’t use the scent suppressants this morning!
"Yes. Your scent... I cannot even begin to describe it. I feel as though I have caught that scent before, but I cannot recall where or when. All I know is that it calls to me."
In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between them, his eyes blazing. He was looking at her with that penetrating gaze again, his presence overwhelming her senses.
"Can I scent you?"
"Huh?" Emeriel gasped, breathless. His fragrance, a potent blend of masculine power, surrounded her, filling her nostrils, making her head spin. He was a towering figure, filling her vision and senses. At that moment, her entire world narrowed down to this one man.
And heavens help her, she was already baring her neck for him, offering it to him, her breath quickening.
"I wish to scent you," King Daemonikai admitted, his eyes burning into hers. "You are betrothed, and I should not do this. But I want to, young princess. Your scent calls to me, and it is both distracting and intoxicating. I need to scent you. May I?"
This is a bad idea, Emeriel . A very bad idea.
But her body had already made the decision. "Y-yes," she whispered, "Okay."
In an instant, he buried his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.
An embarrassingly loud moan escaped Emeriel's lips. Her eyes fluttered closed, head tilting to offer him better access.
He inhaled again and again, each breath a deep, hungry pull. As if he wanted to absorb every molecule of her scent. A low rumble vibrated in his chest, a sound so familiar that her eyes watered.
He's mine. My Beloved.
She whimpered, pressing herself closer to him, her body molding against his hard, muscled frame as she simply held on, losing herself to the sensation of his nose and lips against her neck.
Finally, he pulled away, and Emeriel forced her heavy eyelids open. There was a subtle easing of tension in his demeanor that wasn’t there before.
"B-Better?" she asked, her voice husky with desire. Her body tingled everywhere, filled with warmth. Her breasts felt heavy, and her nipples taut.
He gave a nod. "I appreciate that," he replied, his voice regaining its polite tone. "I feel much better now."
That makes one of us.
She had never imagined a simple scenting could ignite such a potent response inside her. I hope to heaven I don't become aroused, because he would smell it.
Moments later, they entered the garden's shed. A small, cozy enclosure filled with gardening tools and various supplies.
Grand King Daemonikai had spoken the truth when he said he felt better. In fact, he felt more at ease than he had in weeks.
Yet, the craving for her scent lingered, a persistent ache in his senses. He wanted to bury his nose there once more. For hours on end.
His own thoughts surprised him. He had never been particularly obsessed with scenting. It was a natural act for his people, an everyday occurrence.
As the grand king, he offered comfort by scenting the hands of his subjects or allowing them to scent his. It was a simple gesture, nothing more. Until now.
Of course, he had loved Evie's scent, and his sons' as well. But as he searched his memories, he couldn't recall ever feeling such a burning desire to scent someone for hours. Except perhaps during Evie’s heats, which didn't count. Heat and rut amplified their animal instincts, driving them to irrational actions.
However, with this young princess, he wanted. Needed to stuff his nose right there for days and fill his lungs with her scent.
"This place was recently rebuilt," her voice echoed softly as she explained, her back to him. "Although the roof isn't finished yet—oh!" she gasped as he spun her around and buried his face in her neck.
This time, he did not ask, he took.
He expected her to protest, to push him away, but she melted into his embrace, a soft moan escaping her lips.
This won't do.
Daemonikai grabbed her, pressing her back against the wall. His body close, enveloping hers, his breath ragged gasps as he stuffed his lungs with a unique floral aroma and earthy ambrosia.
Ukrae, she smelled so good he could eat her up.
"Your Grace," she breathed shakily.
"Need more," he growled, his hot breath fanning across her neck. "I need more. I—”
"Please, please, please," she cried, her hand going around his neck, holding and guiding his head closer. "Take more."
A guttural moan escaped his lips as he pulled her flush against him, his fingers digging into her waist.
He nuzzled into her neck, his lips all over her delicate skin as his senses were overwhelmed by her sheer scent.