Thorough Breds 1: My Prince(18+)

21- Splinters in his heart

It couldn't be. No!! Absolutely not. Tharn couldn't possibly be mating somebody else. He loved Type.

"N-no, it's- a- mistake. It- it-can't-be. The gifts- The Queen." His words stumbled over each other because of sobs.

He wiped his tears, shaking his head in disbelief. "No. No. No. Please... Anything but Tharn.. I'll give up anything but Tharn."

Type's knees gave out under him, and he slid down to the ground. His legs were shivering so bad, it was a surprise they were able to carry him out the door.

He knew the staff would be looking for him, after all he had left his position without permission. But he couldn't stay, he had to leave before someone heard his heart breaking.

He couldn't look at Tharn and see the betrayal in his eyes.

All around him, he thought the whole palace was laughing at him. Tharn must have told his rich friends,  how easy it was to fuck Type. All it had taken,  was a few kind words,  and Type was ready to spread his legs.

Humiliation burned in his veins as he thought of all he’d dreamt off. Tharn, his? He’d made a fool out of himself,  thinking Tharn could ever want him.

He’d been a toy for his amusement, how could he have though, Tharn actually loved him?

 Wanted him when nobody ever had.

Every single thought made him cry harder, until one made his heart stop.

“But those engagement gifts. If Tharn isn't mating me, who is?”

"That would be me.”

The world stopped around him. No!! It couldn’t be. He recognized that voice all too well.

In horror he turned around, his heart fluttering like a skidiving bird, as he looked at the man behind him.

The general he dreaded the most.

His assaulter.

"H-how? No... It can't be. Please.... No.."

The man only looked at him crying on the ground, with a sick smile on his face. Before he walked towards him, his shoes clicking against the ground, until he was standing right ahead of a kneeling Type.

He tangled his hand in Type's hair, dragging him up by them, until he was eye level with him.

"Look at you now.. What's all that crying for? Why act all pure? You think I don't know you've spread those legs for the prince."

A slap sounded through the hall, and Type fell hard to the ground. A hand cupping his bruising cheek, and blood dripping from his torn lip.

The man moved closer, before he grabbed hold of Type's face, pressing both his cheeks with a hand. Type hissed, as his thumb pressed on the now forming bruise.

"This is what you're worth. You get me? To be a prince's whore. And then to be thrown aside once he's bored of that ass, only to come back right to the dirt."

His tightened his hand, and Type could hardly see anything through his tears.  "You cut up my face you little bitch. You remember? You'll regret it, when I make you my whore for the rest of your life."

"The prince won't come now,  will he? There's nothing he can do. I'm your fiance, and about to be your mate. I have rights, not even he can deny."

He laughed before he spat on Type's face.

"He wouldn't even want to. You saw that man he's about to mate didn't you? This is what sluts like you are. People have fun with you, then throw you away as they choose someone better to stand with them."