Edited.
Claire POV.
King Cyrus fine ass in media 🔥

The color from my face drains away. Before I can react, King Cyrus slings me around by my shirt and smashes me into the wall, holding me in a place like I'm nothing more than a mere rag doll. The wall and his body are the bread and my body is sandwiched in between the two.

The impact of his swift movement is nowhere near as scary as the animalistic look in his eyes like he's ready to devour his prey, to drain every ounce of my blood.

All hope is gone, screw playing a stupid game of chess. I'd rather play hide and seek, running and hiding away from my new captor.

His thick, dark mahogany hair is smothering my face. I can feel his eyes burning holes into my skull. It's so nerve-wracking that I think I might faint.

His voice sounds extremely dangerous as he asks me, "Is that fear I smell? What happened to the brave and foolish human that we analyzed at this year's auction?"

Brave? Fuck, no. Foolish. Hell, yes.

"Sir, please."

His voice holds a sound of amusement as he responds, "You're begging now, Claire?" His laughter follows after his words. "I thought you would put up a better fight." His dark laughter does nothing to ease my fear. "Pity, I guess I was wrong about you being different. Every human cave to the law of the lands eventually, how could you not? After all, you're nothing but a weak and submissive human."

The tone of his voice and his words change my stricken fear into a mixing pot of rage. I don't like his statement one bit. This filthy leech doesn't have the right to speak to me like that, king or not. I don't even allow King Nicklaus to get away with speaking to me like I'm nothing unless he forces me to with his creepy leech control. Either way, I will not stand for it. I'd rather die first.

With my newfound courage, I respond with a mouth full of venom, "If you're going to end me, just do it, you blood-sucking leech."

I stretch out the last word just to piss him off, then I purposefully stare straight into his eyes. I'm doing exactly what I do best—getting under his kind's pale skin.

Vampires hate it when humans stare into their eyes, especially while talking to them. To stare at a vampire during a conversation is the same as asking them to kill you. You are declaring that you are their equal, and that's one thing that their kind refuses to accept. They have too big of a blood-lust ego.

His hazelnut orbs change into lava.

"Are you challenging me, slave?"

The darkness of his voice sets me back on edge, but I refuse to back down. I continue to stare at his eyes head-on, challenging him further.

A second later, the anger in his features seems to disappear completely, nonexistent. He abruptly releases me and turns on his heel, continuing to walk in the direction we were originally heading in. He's acting as if nothing ever happened.

Shock drenches my soul. King Cyrus just walked away, turning his back on me like I didn't disrespect everything his kind stands for.

I take that moment to breathe, lowering my head and allowing my racing heartbeat to calm down.

Wrong move.

Suddenly, his strong hand grips onto my rose-gold hair. He yanks a handful of it and throws me across the hall. The scream that releases from my mouth is short-lived. He catches me by my neck and crushes my windpipes.

"Rule number one, never take your eyes off your enemy."

His dangerous voice, as well as his stare, is dark.

I attempt to free myself, but it's no use. Every move I make, he squeezes my neck tighter, cutting off my air supply completely. My eyelids start to feel heavy and dots start to cloud my vision. I no longer have the will to fight my destined fate. I don't even know why I all of the sudden care. This is what I've wanted, and I'm finally going to be free—unchained and unclaimed.

"Awe, don't tell me the foolish human is losing her will to fight? Tell me, little Claire, are you really that easy to break?" he taunts, loosening his grip slightly.

Oxygen invades my lungs like a crashing wave.

The newfound air only lasts a second, followed by another wave of air covering my whole body.

King Cyrus is suddenly thrown off me.

I gasp and cough up my own personal storm, desperately seeking the air that invades my lungs with full force. I feel a figure standing in front of me, blocking my entire body from receiving another attack.

"You must have a death wish," the voice that haunts my dreams every night states, and I forget my fight for air.

I look up to see King Nicklaus's muscular frame standing directly in front of me. I don't have to see his face to know that his eyes are an inferno and his fangs are flashing dangerously. He's completely lethal.

"Calm down, Nicklaus. I was only having a little fun," King Cyrus responds, his voice once again filled with amusement. "It's not my fault. Your chosen was walking the halls freely."

"Get the fuck out of my sight!" King Nicklaus growls, his muscles flexing with every word that leaves his mouth. "Now!"

I hear a whoosh of air and King Cyrus's dark chuckle before he mocks, "Don't blame me. Blame your bitch."

And then nothing, confirming that he's long gone.

The only sound that can be heard now is my heartbeat, pounding a million beats per second.

The momentary silence is quickly replaced with King Nicklaus's haunting growl.

"Get up!" he orders, anger still very present in his voice.

My heart continues to race and my throat stings, but I somehow manage to scramble to my feet.

"Who let you free?"

His question sends a chilling fear to my bones. I can't speak. I can't think. I'm stunned, literally mute. It's not helping that his well-defined body is blocking me in, intentionally preventing me from any chances of escape.

He's wearing a black silk button-down shirt that looks soft enough to touch. A sudden urge to run my fingers down his godlike frame flashes into my mind, and my heart rate starts to increase for a whole other reason as the air that's just been my savior quickly shifts into my doom. I'm completely breathless.

A ghost of a smirk appears on his beautiful face. I might have imagined that it was actually there.

My cheeks are now strawberry red.

What the hell has gotten into me? I need to get away from him, as far as my human legs would take me.

"Oh now you want to escape?" he huffs. "After you manage to find yourself in another near-death experience, now you're thinking about escaping?"

"Managed." Is he indicating that this is my fault? Yes, I wanted to be almost choked to death. Well, if you think about it, he may be right. I mean I don't care about dying, but blaming me for his sick and sadistic friend nearly crushing me is a little far-fetched.

The hot desire that I just felt is flushed away by anger. I open my mouth to finally tell him about himself, but he disappears as quickly as he arrived. The only reminder that he's been really here is his husky voice floating inside my head: "Go to the slave quarters with your head held down the entire time before I decide to grant your wish."

My body starts to move of its own accord, my feet directing me to the slave quarters even though I've never been there. I try to touch my aching throat, but my stupid hands refuse to react to my own command.

I hate this! I hate them. It's extremely frustrating that I can't control my own body movement. It's even more frustrating that my legs are following a leech's orders. That stupid sex god of a leech. Gosh, that man is so hot. He's unearthly. Really, no man has ever appealed to my taste.

But that's the point. King Nicklaus is no man. Even though that immortal has the power to make any woman stop in her tracks, he's still an immortal, a monster who took an innocent girl's life just to prove a point. He's barbaric, and I'm a monster for feeling even the slightest bit of attraction for him.

I have to remain strong no matter how mesmerizing he is. He is so deliciously mesmerizing, but he's a leech, a blood-draining leech who participated in enslaving another species. I must remember that at all times.

I wouldn't be surprised to learn that King Nicklaus led the attack that enslaved my species, to begin with. I wonder if he's the jealous monster that Mecca warned me about. Of course, he is. How else would he have become the king of all the vampire kings?

It's not like they aren't all deadly creatures. King Cyrus was just seconds away from crushing my windpipe just because he wanted to, and King Nicklaus blamed me for his friend's outrageous actions, just like he blamed that poor human girl for falling for another species. Everything starts to make sense now. I'm attracted to a monster, and the reality of the situation makes me sick to my stomach.

I feel my body go down a flight of stairs before jerking to the left and entering a new hallway. As soon as voices are heard, I gain control of my body again. I search the new environment in complete awe. For the first time since arriving in King Nicklaus's palace, I'm surrounded by my own kind.

It feels as if I stepped into a whole new world. Vampire soldiers in golden armor walk amongst the humans, paying them little to no attention. The only way I'm able to tell they're not human is their muscular frames and pale skin tone. They are way too pale to be considered living beings.

This wing of the palace is almost as magnificent as the other side, almost. And just like the other side of the palace, the red walls are filled with painted portraits of the vampire kings. These portraits, however, are not similar to the ones I witnessed, of them smiling and enjoying their time together. As a matter of fact, none of the portraits are painted of them together. They are all separate, staring right back at you, guarded.

Several gold lights with rows and rows of diamonds hang from the ceiling, following me with every step I take. The first chandelier I encountered was fascinating, bringing light to such a dark place, but these are hanging still in time.

They provide the perfect effect for my fast-approaching appearance to the humans of this place. Speaking of which, human men are dressed in white, button-down shirts and black trousers. Human women are dressed in six-inch heels and tight-fitted black dresses, just like that slave girl was before he took her life because of me.

The idle chitchat is quickly replaced with silence once everyone notices my presence and starts to judge me with curious eyes. The silence stops me in my tracks. It doesn't take long to determine how they view me. They blame me for her death as expected, and they should.

Out of a sea of unfamiliar faces, I recognize three. Victoria, looking like the goddess she-devil she is, sends daggers my way. There is Jasmine, the slave who was the cause of my sexual abuse. She's wearing a golden gown that also reveals too much cleavage for my liking. But just like Victoria, she's flawless.

I look into her hazel eyes, searching for any sign of remorse. Of course, I see none.

Then there's the human girl that King Nicklaus's beloved dragged that day, naked except for a chain. She stands in the middle of them all, now fully dressed. She's wearing a crimson gown that hugs her tiny frame carefully. Just like her friends, she is extremely beautiful. The only difference between her and them is the softness in her eyes. Her big brown eyes watch me carefully, just like she did when that poor girl lost her life, tears threatening to escape as she studies me.

They all stand out like a sore thumb, beautiful like so many, but well‑dressed and beauty queen-groomed like no other.

No one around me makes a move. I hear whispers, but they're all kind of unclear. I attempt to manage the courage to continue to walk through the hallways until I hear someone to my left say, "That's the one that got Helen killed."

I snap my head in their direction, only to be met with another whisper of accusations, and then another.

Finally, unable to take their judgment, my own kind judgment, I run down the hallway and enter the first room that comes into view.

Escaping . . .

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