Hazel's POV
Slave… or salvation?
Those words that he had spoken still echoed inside of my head.
I had thought mayhap he was only trying to frighten me, but his eyes…
They were too calm.
They were too certain.
I sat stiff in the moving carriage.
I pulled the cloak tightly around my body while I stared straight at him.
He didn't even once look away.
His dark gaze burned into mine as if he could see all that I was trying to hide.
I looked away from him.
I sat there for a few moment, wondering what to tell him in time.
Finally, I found my voice.
"And if I refuse?" I asked.
I hated the fact that my voice trembled which each word that I uttered.
"If I choose to be your slave instead of your salvation, what would happen then?"
He leaned back against the seat as a low chuckle spilled from his throat.
It wasn't a warm sound. .
It didn't even sound amusing in any way.
It was dangerous.
I swallowed softly.
"Do you think that slavery is an escape?" he asked me with an acerbic smile.
I wanted to nod but I couldn't.
His laughter died.
His expression turned cold and I watched unmoving as his jaw hardened.
"No. I have no use for a slave, not you, not when you could be more."
Cold shivers ran down my spine at the seriousness in his voice.
"If you choose that," he continued slowly, "then you would be useless to me."
He leaned closer to me.
I held my breath.
"And do you know what I do to useless things Hazel?" He mused.
I shook my head.
"Useless things, I discard."
The air left my lungs all at once.
I froze on the spot.
My hands tightened around the cloak hatd until my knuckles began to hurt.
My body trembled.
Discarded.
I had lived through that word before.
My husband had called me that every single day—a barren, unwanted hag.
He had made sure that I would taste what it felt like to be nothing.
And now, this man -this beast- was offering that same fate if I refused to give in.
I just realized that I really didn't have a choice with this monster.
It was yes... or nothing.
The tears began to burn at the corner of my eyes, but I simply blinked them away.
I couldn't cry, at least not here.
And not in front of him.
I couldn't be weak under his gaze.
"I don't even know…" I began to say but my voice suddenly cracked.
I took a deep breath.
He needed an answer from me.
So I pushed on.
"I will be your salvation."
I watched as his lips curved.
"That's my good girl."
I shivered.
He leaned forward then, resting his elbows on his knees.
His eyes never left mine as he spoke.
"But you won't be my slave Hazel. And you won't simply be my mate."
I raised a brow at him.
"No, I will offer you something more."
My breath caught.
"More?"
He nodded once.
"We shall make a pact, the very kind that our ancestors once used to make."
My eyes widened.
I knew what he was speaking about.
It was an ancient form of mate bonding that was indeed rare and dangerous.
"If you agree," he continued, "you will be my other half in every sense through blood and spirit, strength and curse."
My heart hammered against my ribcage as he continued to speak.
"If you are hurt, so will I. If I bleed, so will you Hazel. And if you die…"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Then death takes you too as the bond ties us together for as long as we live."
I struggled to breath.
That sounded like torture.
It didn't sound like salvation.
It was slavery.
And if he thought this was salvation, then what was slavery like to him?
I shook my head slowly.
"That sounds like a prison to me," I said to him in a soft whisper.
He smirked.
"No Hazel," he began to say while waving a finger in the air as a gesture. "A prison is what you came from."
I didn't doubt that.
But his confidence irked me.
"This pact is a chain forged in fire. It has equal parts freedom and damnation."
My eyes scanned him.
"You will be mine, and I will be yours. And betrayal will be impossible."
My stomach began to churn.
He was hell bent on this.
"And if I say no?"
He cackled with laughter.
It sounded so evil that goosebumps began to fill every part of my skin.
"You already said yes," he replied.
His eyes were gleaming.
"It is you who chose to be salvation, Hazel and this is the cost."
I couldn't think.
I couldn't breathe.
My entire life had been in chains.
There was my husband's fists, his insults and the mistress in our bed.
The bruises on my skin and the scars were enough proof of my suffering.
And yet what the Lycan King was offering me felt a tit bit different.
It was still a cage, yes, but one where I wasn't entirely powerless.
"Shall we proceed, or shall I proceed with you?" He grinned smugly.
The devil I know, I thought, is better than the angel I would never meet.
I nodded slowly.
"I will do it."
His smirk deepened.
He pushed up the sleeve of his blood stained shirt, baring his forearm.
The veins that coiled along his skin were strong and pronounced.
My eyes lingered there despite myself, tracing the ridges of his muscles.
Then he opened his mouth and I saw his fangs—long, sharp and deadly.
He leaned down and sank them into his own wrist without any form of hesitation.
Blood welled up instantly.
It was dark and thick as slid out of the wound and down his arm.
And instead of looking like he was in pain, he simply looked amused.
His dark intense eyes locked onto mine while a devil's grin curled his lips.
"Come, drink."
I froze.
He tilted his wrist toward me.
The action allowed the blood to drip onto the floorboards between us.
The scent was rich, powerful and heavy with am energy that instantly made my wolf to stir restlessly inside of my chest.
"Do it," he said softly.
My hands shook as I moved forward.
The cloak I was wearing slipped from one shoulder, but I didn't care.
I lowered myself onto my knees before him as my lips hovered over his wrist.
This was my last chance.
It was the chance to refuse.
But I didn't.
I pressed my mouth to his skin and the taste of warm copper filled my tongue.
The taste was sharp and alive.
My body jolted as though lightning had been shot through my veins.
My wolf howled inside me.
She was clawing and thrashing about inside me but not in protest.
She wanted this.
She wanted him.
And so I drank.
My head grew fuzzy with the amount of blood that went down my throat.
My body felt on fire.
Then his hand moved.
He gripped the back of my neck as gently as he could and pulled me closer.
He lowered his head to my throat until his breath was hot against my skin.
I stiffened.
My fingers dug into his arm the longer he took to do the needful.
Then I felt his fangs sink into me.
I gasped.
A strangled cry left my parted lips as fire was swift to race down my neck.
The pain was searing.
It worse than anything I had ever felt.
And yet, beneath the pain, something else was beginning to bloom.
It was power, strength.
It was a connection that wrapped itself around my willing soul.
And it would chain me to him forever.
The mate bond roared to life.
My skin burned with the desire that it brought and my chest ached.
Every nerve inside of me awakened, screaming with need.
His hard yet warm body seemed to press against mine for a moment.
It was close enough that I could feel his heat and his wanton hunger.
But he pulled back, slowly, carefully.
Blood was slowly dripping down from the bite on my neck.
His tongue swept across his lips, catching whatever remained of me.
The mark throbbed, and instead of being weak, I felt stronger.
I felt alive.
The blood pact was sealed.
He looked at me and his mouth curved into that wicked smirk again.
"Welcome to the darkness, little wolf. Be careful not to drown in its depths."
Fear coiled tight in my chest.
Had I just stepped from one prison into another? Yes.
This was a gilded cage with stronger bars.
I raised myself to my feet.
I sat back onto the seat, clutching the cloak around me once more.
My body was trembling.
But my wolf was calm, at peace in a way she hadn't seemed to be for several years.
And that scared me most of all.
I was not afraid of the dark for the first time in years because I was becoming it.
The rest of the ride was silent.
Neither of us spoke.
We only stared at each other occasionally as the carriage moved across the road.
And that silence itself was more dangerous than any words.