Chapter 43
Alina
Each day brought a new letter, his elegant handwriting spilling declarations of love and longing, written with the flourish of a man trained in nobility but fueled by obsession.
Raul often dropped to one knee when we were together and kissed my hand as if I were royalty incarnate. He ensured every need was met before I could voice it—whether wine, silk, or silence. He wrapped me in reverence, and for once, I allowed myself to be worshipped without guilt.
We made love often—and when we weren’t making love, we fucked with reckless abandon.
Within weeks, I was pregnant.
I no longer needed to fuss with those viscous, sticky diaphragms or the messy ritual of inserting spermicide. There was no need to prevent what I now craved. I welcomed the child growing inside me. I embraced the idea of carrying Raul’s heir.
I was especially shocked when I learned the family’s superstition—that if the firstborn were a son, he would inherit his mother’s nature.
I couldn’t wait to see signs of me in the child. Darkness. Power. Control.
Raul’s arms became my sanctuary. I hadn’t felt that kind of security in decades. The lingering ghosts of Zara and the Scholar faded with each passing night, their distant threats dissolving in the warmth of Raul’s touch.
For the first time in a long time, I felt content. Not just safe, but powerful—like the chaos of my past had finally bent to my will.
Since the day I arrived, I had begged Raul to teach me the art of poison. But he had forbidden it—“Not while you’re carrying my heir,” he’d said, as if knowledge itself could leech through my womb and harm the child.
But now that Angelo was born, Raul finally turned to me with a gleam and said, “Today’s the day, my queen.”
I rocked Angelo gently in his lavish nursery, his tiny eyes mesmerized by the ceiling mural of cherubic angels frolicking with lambs among pastel flowers. The scene made my stomach churn. I’d protested such innocence being smeared across our son’s first world, but Raul had won that battle—for now.
One day, when Angelo began showing signs of his true nature, I’d have the entire ceiling repainted—this time with demons tearing angel heads from their necks.
“What day is that, my love?” I asked, keeping my voice soft as I swayed with our child.
Raul smiled and stepped closer, his tone reverent.
“The day I give you what you asked for. When you first came, you wanted to kill someone with poison. I told you we’d see.
And now, after all you’ve given me, you’ve earned it.
Today, I will take you to the Phytomancer’s Den and teach you to craft your own. ”
He dropped to one knee, took my hand, and kissed it ceremonially.
A shiver of delight danced along my spine.
The poisons were stored in a shed near the estate, but the real alchemy, the forbidden work, was done in the Phytomancer’s Den. And now, finally, Raul would open that world to me.
“We can go as soon as you’re finished tending to our child,” he said. Then, with surprising tenderness, he rose and lifted Angelo from my arms.
“I’ll take him to the wet nurse so we may begin.”
Raul cooed nonsense to the baby as he spun through the room, waltzing past velvet curtains pulled wide to let in the golden glow of summer. Angelo shrieked with laughter, his chubby hands reaching for the woolly stuffed bear Raul snatched from the shelf.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm halo over the polished marble and ornate rugs as Raul danced out of the room, our son in his arms, and my future in his trust.
Outside, we pushed through the wild, overgrown forest surrounding Raul’s estate, the thick foliage pulling at our clothes as we made our way toward the Phytomancer’s Den.
“Who knows about this place?” I asked, gripping Raul’s hand as he helped me over a fallen log slick with moss.
“Very few,” he replied. “It’s buried deep in the forest, hidden from all but the initiated. Only those trained in the darker arts of poison-making—the Timehunters—know of its existence.”
Through the tangle of trees and vines, the den came into view—a crumbling stone tower, half-swallowed by nature.
Ivy strangled its surface, and gnarled trees leaned in like whispering secrets to its decaying walls.
Toxic plants with oily leaves and unnatural blooms clustered near the base, exuding a sickly-sweet aroma that turned my stomach.
A greenish mist drifted low to the ground, clinging to the roots and rocks like a living thing. It reeked of rot and alchemy, and the air vibrated with an eerie hum.
Then came the hissing.
Low at first, then louder, surrounding us like a warning chorus. I froze as Raul’s hand shot out, halting me mid-step.
“What is it?” I whispered. “What’s making that sound?”
“The guardian serpents,” he said calmly. “Don’t move. They strike without warning.”
My blood turned to ice.
Raul lifted his chin and began speaking in a strange, fluid tongue—ancient, guttural. The forest responded in kind. The hissing deepened and multiplied, like a hundred serpents drawing breath in unison. The mist thickened, curling around my ankles like ghostly fingers.
I loathed snakes. The mere thought of their scales against my skin made my stomach twist. There was no creature I feared more.
And yet, I stood frozen—my terror swallowed by awe, by reverence. This was the entrance to the forbidden. And I was about to walk through it.
Raul continued his strange chanting, his hands weaving deliberate, arcane gestures through the thick air.
The rustling around us ceased. Silence fell—tense, heavy, watchful.
I couldn’t see them, but I felt them. The serpents were hidden in the mist and undergrowth, coiled and listening, waiting to decide whether we lived or died.
Finally, Raul lowered his arms, the last syllable of his incantation dissolving into the stillness.
“It’s safe now,” he said calmly.
“Are you sure?” I whispered, clutching his sleeve.
He gave me a brief, confident nod. “Of course. I’ve been the overseer of the guardian serpents for years. They know me.”
His words offered only the smallest comfort. My heart pounded as we approached the entrance, every instinct warning me to tread lightly. One wrong move could mean venom in the veins—death, fast and unforgiving.
We stopped before the door—an ancient slab of wood and metal, intricately carved with rows of arcane symbols and glyphs that shimmered faintly beneath the moss.
Raul raised his hands again, murmuring another set of incantations, his fingers forming precise, ritualistic motions.
Slowly, the carvings began to glow with an eerie, golden light.
With a creak like a sigh, the door swung open.
He stepped aside. “After you.”
I hesitated for just a breath, then stepped over the threshold.
The air inside the den was pulsing with a strange energy—humid, spiced with the scent of crushed herbs, decay, and something darker. The chamber was dim, lit only by faint phosphorescence bleeding from the stone walls.
“Besides the serpents,” Raul said behind me, “there are many sentient, carnivorous plants within these walls. They can sense ill intent… especially toward the poisons. Their instincts are as sharp as their teeth. With a single snap of my fingers, they’ll awaken.”
Was it a warning? A test? Or a power play?
My breath quickened. My skin prickled with fear—but also arousal. I was stepping into sacred, forbidden territory, the heart of Raul’s dangerous kingdom. I didn’t know if I would survive it, but something in me thrilled at the challenge.
I crossed deeper into the den, trembling—but not from weakness. From anticipation.
Inside the tower, the laboratory unfurled before me like a nightmare preserved in glass and bone.
Shelves twisted through the space in a maze-like pattern, each lined with rare and lethal plants, grotesque animal specimens suspended in cloudy liquid, and delicate glass vials filled with vibrant, glimmering poisons.
Bioluminescent flora bloomed along the walls, casting an ethereal, green-blue glow that shimmered like moonlight beneath water.
The dimness was alive with movement—flickers of shadow behind glass, subtle shifting among the leaves.
My footsteps echoed through the musty chamber as I moved deeper, past relics too strange to name and silhouettes trapped in jars, half-hidden behind condensation and time.
Behind me, Raul’s voice rang through the chamber with a kind of reverent menace, each word steeped in pride and dark poetry.
“Here,” he said, “you’ll find some of the most exotic and forbidden ingredients ever harvested. Venomous serpent fangs. Hallucinogenic fungi from lands untouched by the sun. And over there—petals from the Widow’s Bloom. Rumored to be the deadliest poison in existence.”
My eyes locked onto the delicate crimson flower pressed in a glass frame, its beauty almost mocking in such a lethal place.
“I see,” I murmured, unable to look away. “I want to make my poison with the Widow’s Bloom.”
Raul was on me in an instant, spinning me to face him, his hands firm but tender on my waist. His mouth descended on mine in a kiss that sent a heat shock through my spine. When he pulled back, his breath brushed my lips like velvet smoke.
“Nothing would give me more satisfaction, my love,” he whispered. “But the Widow’s Bloom is only for masters. You are eager… but untested.”
My pride bristled.
“I’ll teach you to use Belladonna,” he continued, stroking my cheek. “Elegant. Quiet. Just as fatal. It will suit your purpose—and your skill level—perfectly.”
Irritation tightened in my gut. I didn’t like being underestimated—even when he spoke affectionately and his touch left me breathless.
“As you wish.” I stepped away from him, my tone cool and detached, resuming my laboratory inspection. Shelves brimming with secrets beckoned, but I kept one eye on Raul.
“Tell me,” I said, pausing at the end of an aisle, “how did you become a Timehunter?”
He followed me with the pride of a man recounting a legend. “It’s a legacy passed from father to son, generation after generation. A birthright.”
My gaze swept over the vast room—rows of cauldrons bubbling gently, distillation coils looping like veins across the ceiling, walls covered with intricate diagrams and parchment scrolls inked in fine, obsessive detail. Each page whispered a secret of Raul’s lethal craft.
“Is there a leader?” I asked, turning back to him. “Someone at the top of this... deadly little empire?”
Something shifted behind Raul’s eyes. He hesitated for the briefest moment before replying.
“There is,” he said. “But I’ve never seen him. I know of him only through stories. Some say he’s immortal—lives deep within the Ottoman Empire—a master among masters. The Timehunters of that realm are said to be the most powerful. Ours... pale in comparison.”
The hunger for knowledge stirred inside me. “How can I meet this mysterious man?”
“You can’t,” Raul said flatly.
He picked up a small jar from a nearby shelf and gave it a gentle shake. The substance inside shimmered like a miniature galaxy, tiny glowing motes dancing within the glass.
“If I removed this lid,” he said with a wicked smirk, “we’d be dead before our lungs could scream.”
He stared at the jar as if it were a god in his palm. That smirk told me everything—I was standing beside a man who relished his own capacity for destruction.
“Then, pray,” I whispered, feeling a chill snake down my spine, “keep it sealed.”
Raul stalked toward me, his gaze dark. I barely had time to breathe before he slammed me against the wall, his body a force of heat and command. Rough fingers gathered my skirt, exposing me to the cool air and his dangerous touch.
“Before I share my secrets of poison alchemy,” he murmured, his mouth grazing my jaw, “you must do something for me.”
“What is it?” I whispered, breath trembling, as his fingers slid between my thighs—deliberate, practiced. I parted my legs, aching for more, for him.
He found my clit and teased it with maddening circles. I gasped, my head hitting the wall behind me, my body arching toward his touch.
“You are to join the Timehunters,” he said, lips brushing the hollow of my throat.
I froze. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t stop. Two fingers pushed into me, coaxing my surrender with an intimate rhythm that made my knees buckle. “Exactly what I said. If you want my knowledge, you’ll become one of them. And you’ll hide what you are… or I’ll be the one to order your execution.”
Then his hand plunged deeper—his whole hand—and my body opened for him with a shocking, hungry ache. He curled his fingers into a fist, stretching me wide as his cock pressed against my hip, thick and hard, demanding attention.
“Promise me,” he growled against my ear, his breath hot, his voice a command disguised as a plea.
I couldn’t speak. Every nerve was aflame. His thrusts were merciless, claiming every part of me. I had to relax, or it would feel like pain, but the line between pleasure and surrender had already blurred. And maybe that was his point.
“Promise me,” he said again, voice low, dangerous, almost broken. His fist moved deeper inside, and I gasped, overwhelmed by the fullness, by the pleasure, by him.
What real harm could there be in joining this loathsome society?
Was it not wiser to stand beside them than to keep running like hunted prey?
The Timehunters—sworn enemies of every Timeborne—had carved their name into history with brutality, precision, and unshakable loyalty to their cause.
To align with them was to betray everything I once believed in. And yet...
Raul’s eyes locked onto mine, filled with dark reverence, like he saw something sacred in my defiance. That look shattered something inside me. Or maybe it awakened something I’d buried—something primal. Something willing to surrender.
His fist moved with a brutal rhythm, stretching and claiming me, and I clung to the edge of consciousness as pleasure laced with purpose roared through my veins. His stare never wavered, daring me to cross the line and never look back.
His request settled deep in my chest. This was no idle favor—it was a blood pact. If I refused, it wouldn’t just be Raul I betrayed. It would be me—my survival.
I exhaled a shaking breath and nodded.
Electricity sparked beneath my skin. My body buzzed, nerves alight with pleasure and fear. The choice was made—I would join the Timehunters. I would learn Raul’s deadly alchemy. And if my daughter ever dared to walk the path of time travel, I would craft the poison that would end her.
Everything was unfolding just as I planned. But as Raul claimed me with relentless force and shadows thickened around the edges of the Phytomancer’s Den, a chill crept into my bones.
Something about this path felt… wrong. Twisted. Fractured.
And deep down, I knew—no plan survived the darkness it invited.