Chapter 38
Eyes don’t lie
"Ferway is now a part of Apollo's command.
The weight of negotiation being the lord's daughter to be wed to the heir of Apollo.
May the future Queen and future King of Apollo have a blessed union.
The young prince might need more guidance from the king himself as meetings with the young Ferway girl always end in tantrums. But what else can you expect from a mere child who has been told that when he is old enough, he will have to marry a girl he barely knows. "
~The Royal Times article of Apollo
Adrion
His room was extravagant; detailed with gold linings across the red drapes and furniture. It reminded him of home. He hated it.
How the signature colours of Abdera somehow moulded into Apollo's own royal colours. The gold incorporation to the red was purposely planned for his arrival. Yet he detested it all. It made him want to rip the very tunic he had off, to get into something more white.
There were other reasons he had felt the need to rip his tunic off as he led her into his room.
She had looked magnificent earlier, with that dress that clung to her curves, making her look like a dark siren seducing all men around to their knees so that she may feast on their flesh, he thought to himself.
Whenever she was around, the prince felt as though he had no moral compass, as if he could forget all the vows he once previously made.
Like vowing my future warrior to be doomed to fail.
He realized his thoughts had drastically changed since then, especially with the magnificence of her skill that he had not expected to witness in the arena.
He knew his father would never approve of a woman protecting him, but he did not care.
Especially with the way she moved, how the aura around her sang to him.
Singing a tune that was not heard in the lands for a long time.
Now with the warrior in his chambers and covered in blood.
She held a fire blade in one hand and a violin she oddly carried in the other.
His chest felt tight, he couldn't possibly understand what he was feeling, no less doing when he made her sit on the edge of the bed.
Where he had wet a clean washcloth that sat on the basin in the bathing room and now cleaned her skin.
Delicately, gently... like how you would clean a sword.
His warrior. His weapon.
"I am capable of cleaning myself." Her smooth voice broke the silence between them.
He didn't answer immediately. Something had not made sense to him, yet he sensed no lie from her.
Thus there being no reason to interrogate.
He was satisfied his beauty slaughtered them all, it made him feel powerful.
He felt powerful through her, he wanted to live through her.
Breathe the air she breathes, see the world in her eyes.
Taste what she tasted and touch her like how she liked touching herself. ..
He rinsed out the bloodied cloth in the porcelain bowl of water next to him.
"No injury except a minor scratch," the prince noted in approval.
The prince had not known what he would have done to the already dead men if they had put a mark on her.
If he had the power to resurrect the men, he would.
Only to torture and kill them again. "Are you alright?
" His question was soft but firm. Morana froze noticeably before finally nodding slowly.
His heart felt lighter then, making him realise that the tight feeling he might have had was genuine worry for the girl in front of him.
It surprised him. He had always felt rage for her kind, the goddess blessed mutants that infested Terran like a disease.
It shocked him that she wielded the kind of strength and power to take down the cliftolights, but what had shocked him the most was her terrifying beauty and how damned hard it was to keep his eyes off her.
He never would have thought he'd be so internally tortured by choosing her as his warrior.
He knelt before her, he didn't take into acknowledgement that this was the first time he had knelt for anyone other than his father.
He gently dragged the washcloth down her already cleaned neck, watching the goosebumps on her exposed chest flesh out.
He breathed in her scent, his eyes unconsciously closing and then opening to meet her deep bronze eyes, already looking down at him intently.
With her so close, he felt the power in his blood travel through him like scorching flames.
She was his antidote. She was his medicine that reignited the very fae lineage in him.
Making him feel primal. Wanton. Feral. The washcloth in his hand dipped into the tight V-shaped cleavage of her dress.
Making Morana gasp softly, he felt her body tremble by the proximity of how close they were.
She began touching his silver white curls and he thoroughly enjoyed it.
Too much... It seemed. The prince didn't think, he simply refused to. He cupped the back of her neck with his other hand and moved to feather his lips along her neck. His tongue darting out to taste her, his other hand delving deeper into her cleavage. Morana had let out a much harsher gasp this time, a gasp he wanted to inhale into his own mouth. To claim as his. To own it. He kept telling himself that if he had her once, then perhaps he won’t need to ever think about how she made him want her ever again.
It made him think those thoughts would eventually be gone but his lust was too wild to make him remotely last long in intimacy with her and yet his lust was also too wild to die out.
"You are my enemy. One of the goddess blessed folk that plague the world.
Tell me why is it so hard to despise you?
" the prince murmured against her neck. He felt her tense against him, and suddenly he was being pushed away.
The prince concealed his surprise and raised an eyebrow at her all while controlling the fire and heat that curled below his abdomen.
"Yes. Why would you want an arena freak?" Her words were so sudden and said with such venom.
"Did that hurt your feelings?" The prince had not meant for his voice to sound teasing but it did. It made her eyes narrow at him and fists clench at her sides. He did not have it in him to further clarify if his past words had hurt her.
It seems like it did... The prince thought to himself in misery.
"You are using me. For your own personal gain.
And once you're done... You said, you were going to let me go.
" She was waking up. He slowly nodded. It had to be this way.
It was the only option. He couldn't have her, not with Izlana being his future queen.
Not with all the sudden dangerous urges and heart constrictions he felt for her.
"I will end up going back to my family. My real family. The arena freaks." She threw his words back at him. The prince put his hands behind his neck and casually lounged himself on the floor. Red eyes challenged her dark doe eyes. Fire against the damp soil of Terran.
"Stay or leave. The outcome of our future will be the same," he simply answered. His heart painfully contracted with the words that now hung in the air. Their eyes seemed to be waging a conflicting battle.
Stay or leave... Was her choices.
Please stay, make my damned heart stop aching.
His feelings that seemed to resonate deep down wanted to cry out.
Her foot hesitantly stepped forward, but then, the hesitancy of it all made the step she had taken forward make her take more steps backwards.
Where she had opened the door and left. Leaving him all alone, with his loud thoughts and pained heart.
Her scent vanishing from the room. All the pent-up fire in his veins raged against his skin.
He snarled into the silent room and punched the wooden floor, splintering the wood into large pieces.
Adrion didn't sleep that night. And neither did Morana, who was suffering the inner turmoil of her past that tried to catch up with her.
She feared if she slept, she would be dreaming of the Duvessan girl who tried to protect her from the lord.
Feared that she would be taken again and killed just like the lord had promised.
She didn't sleep, for the fear of her heart falling under the prince's spell of lust kept her awake.
It was too late for it. To keep my heart from falling. I barely knew why and yet there was an invisible pull toward him. Morana had thought. For she wanted him, more than she could admit.
And now she understood Inanov, and why this was a very bad idea.