Semua Bab That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate: Bab 381 - Bab 390

Zaiper smiled coldly. “Get in line. Maybe in two centuries—if you live that long.” He licked a smear of blood from his wrist, just to drive the knife deeper. “What’s it going to be, Second Commander?”Kelvin trembled, then spat on the ground. “Let’s go.” He turned on his heel and took off at a run.Zaiper followed, smirking.But the humor was fading. The streets were littered with bodies—many vampire bodies and a few werewolves, but not a single Urekai. How had my plan fallen apart so severely? Someone betrayed me.They turned a corner, ducking into a narrow corridor, half-collapsed from skirmish.“We’ll go through the North quarter,” Zaiper muttered. “There’s a tunnel entrance beyond the archives—”“No,” Kelvin snapped. “This way. It’s clear. I just passed through.”Zaiper narrowed his eyes. “And how exactly do you know it’s—”“Trust me, or find your own damn way,” Kelvin snarled.Zaiper bit down his response. I’m killing him the second I have my strength back.He followed. The corri

Vladya gripped Aekeira’s hand, whispering steady encouragements. Daemonikai held Emeriel’s tighter as she bore down, the effort wracking her body, her cries guttural.“Good, Princess—again!”And they did.Over and over.Two males—warriors, rulers, predators—turned helpless spectators as the fiercest fight they’d ever witnessed was waged right before them. A battle of life and death. Of blood and breath.Then… a cry. A piercing, primal cry.Daemonikai’s head snapped up as the midwife smiled, raising a small blood-slicked bundle. “You have a beautiful boy, Your Grace.”My child.Joy exploded in Daemonikai’s chest. He was smiling so wide it hurt, adrenaline still coursing, euphoria drowning every coherent thought.“Here.” The midwife rose, her own eyes shimmering with tears, and gently placed the child in his arms. She was smiling as if she’d just witnessed a miracle—because she had.Daemonikai’s hands trembled as he gathered his son close. Emeriel looked too exhausted to speak, but her

“You’ve no idea how fun it was. Playing you like a puppet, note by note, from the sidelines, with you none the wiser. It was... exquisite.” His grin was unrepentant. “But don’t blame me too much, Daemonikai. The real culprit was your pride. You believed yourself invincible. Too strong to be touched, too feared to be challenged. And because of that arrogance, you gave someone like me the perfect opening.”He let out a wheezing cough of amusement. “The Dragaxlovs have always sought the throne, but the Naelzharoth was too powerful. My grandfather shared with me that it was his lifelong dream to sit on the First Throne, yet every minor scheme he attempted to wrest it from your grandfather failed. He was a coward, you see, just like the rest of them.” Zaiper sighed. “Even at a hundred, I knew I was different from those spineless relics. I knew I would achieve great things, and I knew you would assist me. Your casual dismissal, that prideful superiority… always a Naelzharoth, viewing the re

GRAND KING DAEMONIKAIDaemonikai delayed just outside the dungeon corridor until he heard Zaiper’s first blood-curdling scream. Only then did he walk away from the dungeon hallway. He soon stopped hearing them. Almost a regret.He had instructed the guards to move Zaiper to the deepest, most fortified cell to keep his torture from disrupting the tranquility of the Citadel. But now, for the first time, he wondered about the wisdom of it.Reaching his bedchamber, the scene greeting him caused him to pause.There on the couch, Emeriel sat in sleep's soft embrace, holding their son, Daesovxscar, against her chest. His small mouth had slipped from her breast, milk dotting the taut, dark nipple still exposed to the cool air. Her arms held him close, even in sleep.Daemonikai’s mouth went dry.He was not a male to steal his youngling’s food—he had never done so before—but in the past few days, the thought had settled into his mind like an unsealed scroll. It was all he thought about.“Your H

GRAND KING DAEMONIKAIZaiper's screams rolled down the dungeon corridor, bouncing off walls as Daemonikai sawed through his leg with a cutlass—whistling a slow, melodic tune. Blood sprayed, splashing onto Daemonikai’s robes, forming a growing puddle.“This blade’s gone dull,” he said conversationally, examining the edge. “Get me the dagger.”A guard handed it to him from the wall of instruments, so much polished steel behind them.Daemonikai discarded the cutlass with a soft clatter and resumed with the dagger, slicing deep into muscle and tendon, never missing a beat in his whistle.“Please! AHhhhhhh!” Zaiper howled. An animal sound, born of unbearable pain.Daemonikai sawed clean through until the leg detached entirely. He lifted it, holding it up like a prized relic.“I hope you don’t mind if I keep this,” he said casually, inspecting the severed limb. “It’s a clean slice. Unfortunately for you, it won’t regenerate—considering I’ve taken the entire limb. You’ll have to forgive me.