She watched him.
A heartbeat passed.
And another.
Impatience flashed in his eyes and he'd heavy lips moved out of fear.
"Embroidery…" she panted like the word was too much for her to even provide. She dragged in a ragged breath when she realized that his expression did not change. Something tightened in her chest at that thought that he might be getting angry. "He wanted to learn more about…" the back of her head stung, but she had to keep going. Haron was not looking convinced.
At all.
"...embroidery for Ladymynor Dali," she ended, feeling the strain of the words she had spoken around her neck and somewhere deep within her lungs.
A frown still remained on Haron's face. Something flickered in his eyes again.
"Ten years of celibacy." He turned away from her and laid on his back.
She let out a sharp breath of relief and laid for that immediately when the insides of her nostrils burned with the air that had been dragged in.
She should just sleep.
But she bit her tongue instead. If only for the pain to keep her awake even longer.
"This Ladymynor must be one special one," he said more to himself than to Ismena.
The excuse Ismena had given did not sound as convincing to her as she had thought she would require of an excuse. She didn't even think it was something Haron would believe. Afterall, Haron was very observant.
But had he not been blind to his brother's action all these years.
It is said that people would usually see what they wanted to see. Hear what they wanted to hear.
It was no problem though.
It had worked and that was enough for now.
Now she knew how dangerous was,k ew that he had people in the castle working for him, and knew that he was ready to kill Haron, she had to quickly find a way to let Haron know of Stavan's treason,
but how?
She felt Haron tracing the lines on her palm, saying something to her.
About how he had sent all the whores against from the castle.
About how the Punishers had been sent away too.
About how her children were doing well.
About how he couldn't wait for them to finally have a son, now that they were giving each other a second chance.
Then he said something about the prisoner, and her fight with his memories in her mind began a new.
It was strange that the werewolves were so quiet after one of their Alphas had been caught. It had a while now and nothing had happened on the battlefield. It was suspicious. But still, it could be that they were giving up. He said. It was even stranger than his prisoner wasn't dead yet. He had been filled with so much wolfsbane. His Royal Bane were now conducting a research on him to see how long he would last.
What made him different.
Why he was still alive.
His words moved in and out of Ismena's ears, as sleep pulled at her from every angle, the growls becoming clearer and closer in her mind.
She fought against it with everything she had, but Haron kept mentioning him and that made her struggles even harder.
Then Haron was shouting again. He was saying something about blood. She could taste it too.
Then she tasted nothing.
The prisoner.
The memories of him latched around her along with the fatigue, pulling her desperately into unconscious.
Into the abyss of chains and darkness.
Till she couldn't fight anymore.
Till the room vanished from her, and every ray of light dissolved.
Then she was standing there, in her purple night robe, with this smell of wolfsbane and blood around her, with this darkness engulfing her.
No!
She had failed.
For a second, she stood there, closing her eyes and opening them back again with the hopes that she would wake up in her husband's bed with Haron at her side.
But nothing was working.
She was still here.
In this dungeon.
A dream.
She told herself.
It wasn't real.
Nothing was real.
It was just a dream.
Chains rattled as someone moved.
She froze, knowing who it was.
He would try to kill her. As always.
She would not let his let his paws reach her neck this time. She wound not run and that was, he wouldn't know that she was here.
This was a dream.
It wasn't real.
Nothing was.
But the chains dragged, this time across the floor, as if they were pulling closer.
Despite her plan to remain stationary, her legs moved forward, only to feel the wall before her. The presence of the obstacle was such a surprise that she staggered back.
Chains.
Warmth.
Another obstacle.
Her heart constrained tightly in her chest at the contact, her veins roaring with the flames of fear. Her body went rigid, breathing became difficult.
No.
He would leave.
She wound pretend like she had felt nothing and he would leave. She would just turn around and pretend like he wasn't there.
Then maybe while she was walking away, she wound wake up from this cursed dream— why weren't her legs working?!
Ismena dragged in an uneasy breath and the sound filled the space. It was so loud, it settled in her bones.
Just when her legs finally obeyed her and moved— only slightly— a firm, large hand caged her neck, and shoved her back against him.
She squeaked, the movement very unexpected.
Something kindled in her veins. Hot. Hungry.
Her insides snapped with shock. She gritted her teeth.
No.
Impossible.
This wasn't real.
Heat sizzled in her veins nonetheless, the presence of the beast behind her engulfing her being.
She slammed her eyes shut. "You are not real," she whispered, but her voice trembled at the callousness of his hand around her neck. At how real it felt.
A shaky breath slipped past her nose.
This was wrong.
This was not like her usual dream. He wasn't turning her to face him yet. His claws were not digging into her flesh yet.
Was he trying to find out another way to kill her?
Why was her mind playing this tricks on her with this dreadful dreams.
She clenched her fists, burning away the urge to pull his hand away, the urge to acknowledge his presence with her touch.
"You… you are not—"
A growl rumbled from him, and she felt the vibration against her back. An unexplainable feeling coursed through her, threatening to drown her increasingly contained lungs. Her legs were starting to feel too weak to hold her up.
"You—"
He angled her head away sharply to a side with his thumb.
But before a thought could form in her head about anything, his face crashed into the hallow of her neck.
Of course, he would rip her apart with his canines.
By the Sun, why wasn't she waking up yet?! Why–
A shiver washed over her when she felt his warm tongue slithered down the croak of her neck. An involuntary sound slipped past her lips as her body arched into him.
She caught herself just as quickly and rage consumed her.
"GET AWAY— Ahhhh!" A scream pierced through her lungs as she felt canines rip into her flesh. Her hand yanked his hair ti pull him away, as the agony washed over her.
Her body quivered.
Torture.
Agony.
… and something else…
Something wrong.
Something. Dangerous.