Evangeline
I can barely breathe, not knowing what to do. His touch makes my body react. I don’t want him, yet my body enjoys this. It feels good, but I am not sure what I am feeling.
The taste of his mouth is enticing, the feel of his plump, full lips dominating mine. The way his body is moulded against mine…
When he sucks on my lower lip slightly, I wonder what would happen if I kissed him back. Would he display my head on a pitchfork in front of the castle? Or worse, see it as an invitation to take things further?
Before I can even decide, he suddenly moves back, his blazing red eyes full of anger once more as he grabs my wrist, yanking me down the hall. We pass a few people, but they keep their heads down, swiftly moving out of our way.
I am getting whiplash from his behaviour. My lips still tingle from his touch, and my heart feels funny. Was this what Josie meant, that things can just physically be fun? That you didn’t need to tie in emotion to feel pleasure? I didn’t understand that…
We make our way down two further flights of stairs until we look to be in some sort of stone tunnel. At one point, the tunnels split in two. Zedkiel turns left, yet my gaze lingers on the right tunnel.
What is down there?Unlike most doors in the castle, this one is plain, even old, one could say. The doorknob is large and made of a dull iron. Perhaps that’s because this part of the castle isn’t used. To my surprise, for the first time since I met him, he raises his hand and knocks instead of slamming the door open.
To whom does the room belong?The door creaks open, and my heart speeds up as I peer into the room.
The floor is dark wood, and there is an ethereal feel here. The room is bathed in the dim light of lamps. There is no window, and many areas are cast in shadows.
This place feels oddly familiar. A flash from a forgotten memory fills my mind, and it hits me: I’ve been here before. Grandmother Philomena had brought me here!My eyes widened as he steps inside, pushing the door wider, a door that seems to have opened by itself.
I know who this room belongs to. I can remember the dark floors, the way this room looked with the same ornate stained-glass lamps, the beads, the embroidered cushions, but I can’t remember her…
Now I can see her sitting in the corner, only the top of her head showing from the back of the rocking chair she is sitting in. Her hands clutch the armrests, and her back is to us. The only sound besides my thumping heart is the chair's creaking as she slowly rocks back and forth, and the faint crackling of the fire in the hearth.
He brought me to the Oracle.
The door shuts behind me with a sharp snap, making me almost jump out of my skin. My heart is thumping so loudly that I feel like everyone in the castle can hear it.
“We meet again,” a whispery voice comes.
“Again?” Zedkiel asks sharply.
She is silent for a moment. “Of course.”
She stands up, and when she turns, I find myself looking at a woman who seems to be in her early thirties, but surely, she is far older. Her pure white hair is tied back, and her eyes are dark as she stares at me intently.
Zedkiel doesn’t push it. Instead, he looks down at me. “I’m claiming this omega as mine. You create the amulets they wear, but I have a different plan for her.”
Different plan? Oh, that doesn’t sound pleasant.My stomach twists with nerves.
“When things are done, they cannot be undone, Alpha Zedkiel Vilkas.”
He frowns, “I know.”
The Oracle smiles, raises her jewel-clad hands, and approaches the table. “Your request?”
“You already know, but if you wish me to entertain you, fine. I want to brand her with my mark.”
Brand me?Unease fills me as the Oracle looks over her shoulder. “Only a mate should wear the mark of her mate upon her body, Prince Vilkas… a fated mate. To give a claimed omega your mark, by bite or magic, is the same thing. What will happen if the day comes when you meet your mate and another woman wears your mark?”
“That’s none of your business. Do as I have asked,” he snarls.
“I demand an answer,” she whispers.
Zedkiel frowns coldly. “Mates no longer exist. One in thousands. Only the lucky ones will find their mates. I only know of a few in my lifetime who have ever found their fated mate. Let’s not hold petty discussions.”
She smiles, but it holds no emotion. “As you wish, I am bound to serve the royal bloodline.”
Her voice sounds heavy, but I might have imagined it because it is gone as she speaks again. “Very well, as you command, where would you like to brand her?”
“Her back, a place that will, from this day, remain on display,” he says coldly, and I gasp when he grabs my shoulder, turning me and tearing the back of my dress completely.
I wrap my arms around myself, my heart beating hard as fear envelops me when he pushes me towards the table.
Branded? Meaning not just a charm… I knew I’d never be able to remove it… but on my body? Does this mean I will forever be his?Tears sting my eyes - I barely comprehend what the Oracle whispers as the fire in the hearth blaze high. I gasp when she places a shimmering silver tool in the fire.
They are going to brand me like an animal. I turn to the Prince, hoping he’ll change his mind. “Must you do this?” I whisper pleadingly, praying for some compassion from him, but his gaze remains cold.
“Take it and imprint her where you wish. Your mark will adorn her, and then you must carve your name with the blade.”
“No, please, no!” I beg, panic suddenly enveloping me.
My nightmares – blood, death, and pain – swirl around me like a hurricane, and I am caught in the middle. A piercing scream leaves my lips when he suddenly grabs me by the back of my head, forcing me to bend over the table.
“Calm down. The world needs to know who you belong to,” he whispers in my ear. “It won’t hurt for long.”
From the corner of my mind, I try to comprehend his words.
Is he trying to soothe me? Is it just me, or had his voice been softer?I don’t know. I don’t care!Tears stream down my face as I watch him remove the metal from the fire, my cheek pressed against the table, glaring into the burning flames. I close my eyes, thinking of Sinclair.
I miss you… Why are things so complicated?The moment the burning hot metal touches my back, a shriek of agonising pain rips through me, and I grip the table with everything I have. My nails splinter as I dig them into the wood. My head feels like it is going to burst, and electrifying jolts of pain spread from where he is branding me.
“It is done,” the Oracle’s voice comes, but it feels so distant. He holds me in place, refusing to let me fall to the ground despite my legs already giving way.
Tears stream down my cheeks. I am powerless against his strength anyway.
I whimper as the metal is removed, the dull pain easing quickly. I can’t even bring myself to relax, still gulping for air. I feel like I am drowning, but before I can even gather myself, I see the Oracle hand Zedkiel a knife made of the same silver as the metal they just branded me with.
Her eyes meet mine, and she tilts her head, watching me as if I am something intriguing. Zedkiel steps forward, and I scrunch my eyes shut. I don’t want to do this.
Terrified of the pain that is to come, I grit my teeth, preparing myself. He places his hand firmly on the back of my neck, and I whimper when I feel the sharp sting as the knife cuts into me. I hear him growl, his heart thundering as he carves his name into my back. The pain is unbearable, but I don’t scream again.
I bet they want to hurt me, but I won’t give them that satisfaction.
They don’t care.The pain was growing, burning through me. Silent sobs wrack my body, the pain in my back so severe I can no longer comprehend it.
Please stop.“There, now the entire fucking castle won’t touch her,” he snarls like the monster he is, letting go of my neck as he backs away. I fall to the ground, weakly covering my chest, but I feel… defeated.
He turns his back on me, his shoulders heaving as he tries to control his breathing before he turns back to me with blazing red eyes. He crouches down beside me. “You will be safe from them all,” he says, brushing strands of my hair back.
No, I won’t, but no one here is worse than you. I hate you.I look at him, trying to control the hatred I feel inside as he continues to run his fingers through my hair. “You cut your hair…”
I ignore him, hatred coursing through me.
The Oracle smiles faintly. “A rather intriguing mark,” she muses, moving the silver he had used aside as she picks up a large mirror, and it was then I realised the metal he had used was completely blank from underneath.
“It suits her,” he says with a cold smirk. “Don’t you agree, Little Mouse?”
He grips my hair, forcing me to look over my shoulder at the mark that tarnishes my skin. My skin isn’t burned, nor is it red, almost as if nothing had happened. But I’ll remember that pain.
The mark is at least six or seven inches long and an inch or two wide. Most of it is in shimmering gold, whilst there is a black crescent moon and a star with a few small details in it and there, right in the centre, is the name.
Zedkiel Vilkas.
A cold reminder that I am his. Forever.