Isolde.
Gathering the saliva left in her mouth, Isolde boldly spat it on Draco's face. She gritted her teeth and huffed. "You deserve to perish!"
She watched as Draco, slowly with a sinister grin on his face, raised his hand and collected the slimy liquid with his fingers. She was seething, nearly losing her mind.
Isolde saw how casually the lord was rubbing the liquid in his fingers, his iridescent eyes examining, as if he was adoring the slimy content that just came out of her mouth. The evidence of her hatred and disgust for him.
In rapid moves, the lord tugged her close, leaving just a few gaps between them. In a moment of panic, she began to thrash against the armor covering his body. However, the lord held on tight, giving her no chance of escape.
Isolde ceased breathing when he raised his hand, the one that had her saliva pasted on it, and rubbed it sensually across her lips. Her lower lip trembled as his thumb and index finger grazed across it.
Something shifted inside her, and a certain kind of heat enveloped Isolde. The way his fingers moved across her lips made her toes curl. Her eyes fixed on his face, taking in the long lashes that fanned over his cheeks as he watched his fingers move over her lips.
Something was trickling inside her. Something forbidden. Hating herself for feeling such a response, Isolde drew back, cursing under her breath.
"I wouldn't do that next time if I were you," Draco spoke, pulling his gaze away so fast as if Isolde disgusted him.
For all she knew, he was as disgusted by her as she was at him. Regaining herself, she began. "I've done my part of the bargain. You should allow me to see my sister!"
"This..." Draco rolled the contract and kept it on his wooden desk. "It was never a bargain. You live under my instructions, and I don't yield to your desires, female." Draco said. The stern look on his face told Isolde there was no room for argument again.
She flinched when the sound of fabric being ripped apart echoed in the study. To her surprise, Draco whipped around, grabbed her wounded thumb, and tied the torn fabric over her wound without sparing her a look.
After that, he clapped his hands, and the door opened. A sentinel shoved in, and Draco commanded.
"Take her away,"
Isolde scoffed, shaking her head. The sentinel quickly grabbed her, moving her down the halls. After a brief walk, they paused before a door.
Someone on the other side flicked it open as if they knew she was standing there with a sentinel.
"Madam Roga, the lord asked that you take the lead from here," The sentinel said and shoved Isolde into the room.
The moment she stepped in, her eyes connected with the older woman. Shock bled into her eyes, and she gasped, letting her eyes linger on the woman.
"Holy, creator," The woman gasped.
Was she equally shocked to see a fellow gender? Isolde wondered, shrinking under the woman's scrutiny.
"You look like...Someone I know," The woman said, shuddering. Almost hyperventilating.
Isolde shook her head and laughed. " I guess there's a mistake somewhere." She managed out. Her eyes rolled down the woman's body again, and she hummed. "You're like me. A woman. Are you also a breeder?"
She hurriedly held the woman's hands, hoping she'd say yes so they could both plot their escape.
"No. I am the king's head maid." She admitted.
"That means he kept you here against your will?" Isolde pushed. There had to be hope somewhere.
"Not at all. I'm a member of Abbator. A lycan."
Isolde's hope dashed immediately, her head lowered. Defeat shone through her eyes when she looked back at the woman.
"But how is it that you're the only female in the whole of Abbator? I mean, from what I've seen, there's been no female at all."
The woman quickly changed her stance and stepped further into the room, averting Isolde's question for reasons unknown to Isolde. She followed the woman's trail into the room, and for the first time, her eyes took in where she was.
It was a sparse bedroom with simple furnishings of a four-poster bed with blue and golden sheets, two windows blinded with thick golden and dark blue brocade curtains, a chest and a nightstand flanking both sides of the bed, and a fireplace sat opposite the bed, devoid of any flame.
The wooden floor glistened under the shining candelabra that hung from the wooden beams of the ceiling. The dresser on the right end was adorned with sconces beside it. The room looked rather impressive, even though nothing in Abbator should impress her.
"This shall be your chambers, my lady..." The woman started, but Isolde cut in.
"My name is Isolde." The woman's eyes blinked. A longing look crossed her face.
"Isolde." She called her name gently, staring into her eyes. She wanted to say something but held back, her gaze pulling away momentarily.
"What is yours?" Isolde finally broke the stint of silence, stepping closer.
"Roga, my lady,"
Isolde gave her a warm smile and nodded. "Who else gets to share this room with me?"
"Ahh, no one. Except the lord wants to visit you himself," Roga supplied. The mention of Draco clenched Isolde's heart. She remembered her sister again and began to wonder where she was.
Was she okay? What had Draco done to her?
She grasped Roga's arms in desperation and squeaked. "I need you to help me. I've to see my sister, please. I'm certain she's here in this tower. Just help me find her."
Roga respectfully withdrew her arms and shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't go against the lord, my lady."
She watched as Roga put more distance between them and asserted. "My duty here tonight is done, my lady. I've prepared the bath for you in the bathroom. Or if you want, I can take you to the bathhouse...?"
"No, it's okay. This will do." She dismissed Roga, tears leaking from her eyes.
Roga nodded and headed for the door before slipping away, she announced. "Your training begins tomorrow, my lady. Someone will come help you to prepare."
What training? Isolde was prepared to ask, but Roga was gone before she could speak.
"Everyone in this whole place is creepy," She muttered as she walked toward the window. "The woman clearly avoided my question about the scarcity of females. She dreaded disobeying her lord. Isolde clenched her palms over the window pane, fuming as she gazed at the night sky.
"I'll find my sister, Lucinda, and we'll escape this hellhole together. We'll return to Brindlemark to meet our parents. I'll be damned to let the lord break me. I must escape," She told herself, gnawing her lip.
TBC.