The Immortal Prince ✔️

26

Word Count: 1987

-Mature Content Warning! Read At Your Own Discretion!*

~Vaela

I wander into the dining room, fatigue weighing down upon me mercilessly.

Hale's eyes glitter as I sit opposite him at the table. "Good morning."

"Morning," I grumble in response.

I don't feel well. Not sick, but my entire body feels tight, uncomfortable. I know Hale notices, watching me intently as I lean back in my seat, uninterested in any of the food at the table.

"You don't appear to have slept very well last night." He's not asking. He's making it obvious he knows, teasing me into his sick game. I'm not in the mood to play it.

My jaw settles into a hard line. "Had other things on my mind."

The edge of his mouth tilts up. Bastard.

"Well then. Any plans for the rest of the day?" He asks, stiring a small spoon through his coffee, eyes never leaving mine.

"Not particularly."

He takes a sip of his drink. "I think I may do some painting."

"Good for you."

I can't believe I heeded his warning last night. Had I any sense of dignity left, I would have finished myself off, and sat at this table to face whatever his punishment would be.

And I wouldn't apologised for it, either.

"Would you want to sit with me while I do so?" He asks.

"I would rather not," I grumble.

Sit by him and constantly think about my state of frustration? I'm on the brink of insanity as it is, and I'm tired of Hale knowing he has me exactly where he wants me.

He stands, unaware of how my thighs press together beneath the table, fingernails grating into my palm with my clenched fist. "Then have a good day, Vaela."

I watch him walk away, until he reaches the threshold of the door. I can't do this anymore.

"Okay, fine," I grit out.

He pauses, turning slowly to look over his shoulder. "Hmm?"

"I give in. You win." I want mercy. I don't want the torturous Pureblood treatment. I want him him to lay me down in his bed and put his mouth where his fingers were last night.

His eyes drift over me. "Do I?"

I approach him with hurried steps. "Yes. I've come back to you, I want you..."

He releases a long, slow breath. He's contemplating giving me what I desire, with no more taunting or teasing. He's wondering whether he should do it right here, or lead me I to the bedroom.

"I know," he murmurs.

"Then please, just help me." I'm a mess, begging like this, but I'm in the verge of breaking down with frustration.

He shakes his head slowly. "Not yet."

"Seriously? Not yet?" Does he hate me or something? Does he regret what happened?

He slowly leans back in his chair, never breaking eye contact. "You'll take the release how I give it to you. That includes when."

"I didn't touch myself last night, I've waited all day...What else do you want from me?" I growl.

Had I known this would happen, would I have still agreed? Whether I'm willing to admit it right now or not, but my body is singing with anticipation, knowing at some point he has to relent, and it's going to be incredible.