The Alpha King’s Hated Slave Chapter 25

When she was done, Lucien withdrew the cup and tried to get up but she clunged to him, her dazed eyes staring at his. “So cold…”

“You’re cold?” He asked with a furrowed brow, knowing that the room is not cold at all.

“Your…eyes….they’re so cold…” She whispered.

Lucien said nothing, knowing that the woman isn’t herself. She was heavily induced on pills and potions, and they have side effects.

He knows that she won’t remember any of these in the morning. And so, he just stared at her.

It’s the first time he allowed himself to stare at her so upclose. The first time he allowed himself to really look at her.

To see Danika….not Cone’s Daughter.

She’s beautiful. The knowledge went to his cold heart and whispered on it. Beautiful and so pure-looking.

Like a woman who never saw the rough side of their world. Like a princess.

She has a bow mouth, sharp pointed nose that took in sharp breaths, and deep blue eyes that stared up at him in a daze. Her beauty rivaled many.

For the first time, his raging demons saw her as Danika, not Cone’s daughter. He saw her as princess Danika, instead of Slave Danika.

It is a bad idea looking upon her like that. But this is midnight. And she’s not herself.

And he’s not himself too.

“Why….do….you..have eyes so…cold?” She whispered, blinking sleepily.

He didn’t say anything for so long, just letting his eyes take in her features. And then, “They have seen more than any human should ever see.”

She took shallow breaths, her eyes dilated. “Can they….ever be…warm again?”

“No.”

“Why…?”

“They’ve been cold for so long.” he looked away, “They’ve forgotten what it’s like to be warm.”

“That’s….very….sad….” She raised a trembling hand and ran it down the scar, her hand tracing it.

“Where does….it end? The scar…?” She asked, seeing the way the line went past his neck and disappeared into his robe.

“It goes far.” He said simply.

“They…must…have…hurt….”

“They did.”

“Do they…still…hurt?”

“Sometimes.”

She took a ragged breath. “When….she…tortured me…she….said she…wants to roast…my p-privates. Said…after all, my f-father did it…to the king. Is it true?” She whispered drowsily.

He froze there. Why would Vetta tell her that? She knows how sensitive that subject is for him.

The pain of that very day came back to him. The most excruciating feeling of them all, he was sure he’d almost died. Cone had looked upon him, laughing in excitement.

Roasting her privates?

He would feel so much aversion for her, he would hate her, he would keep hurting her. But, he can never do that to her. He doesn’t know why but the thought is not one he entertains.

He allowed his eyes to caress her face examiningly. She would die under such torture. No two ways about it.

“Is…it…true?” She whispered again.

Lucien doesn’t want her knowing any of his weakness at all. But he also knows that she won’t remember this tomorrow.

“Yes.”

“Must have…hurt…like hell…”

“It hurt worst than hell.”

“I’m so…sorry….”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“My back….hurts…” She cried out, her head pounding.

“Your back will heal. Faster too.” He looked away from her, “You’re lucky for that.”

“Yours….they didn’t…heal s-so fast?”

“No. Never had that luxury.”

“I can still remember….that day….” She whispered, her face sad. “Your torture s-session.”

He tried to close his mind to it, but one thing about all the memories and pains he’s been through is that none of them can be pushed away as if they never happened.

He remembered that day vividly. “It’s the first day I saw you. Cone’s daughter. Even held in chains, I wanted to tear you apart and make you bleed.”

“First time…I saw you too…. Prince Lucien…the enslaved prince I’ve heard about all my life, but has….never seen. I saw the…rage in your eyes…when I looked into them….when you stared at…me.”

She’d overseen his torture session that day. She stood at the corner like a regal proud princess, while the guards whipped him with all their power.

She stood staring when they tied him up and forced him to eat like a dog. On his knees. She’d been watching when they cut him open with a knife on his shoulder, while he bled.

That day was the first time he was tortured and he didn’t feel the pain of the torture.

He channeled all the pain into hate as he stared at the Princess of Mombana. He’d hated her so much and he fed that hatred for four solid excruciating years.

That was the day he vowed that he’ll have the princess as his slave one day.