The Death of a Tyrant's Concubine

CHAPTER 22 - Inevitable

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【𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄】

My hands hovered uselessly by my chest, trembling with the urge to push him away, yet knowing full well what defiance would cost me. A concubine who rejected her husband like this could never hope for a promotion.

All I could do was stay frozen as Sylvos held me captive in his embrace.

The kiss was searing, insistent, claiming — like he wished to brand my very soul. It was not the touch of a lover but of a conqueror, a man who believed he owned every piece of me.

My body remembered him with agonizing clarity, the hunger I had felt for him in my first life mocking me, even as my mind screamed for escape.

I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself into numbness, but his hold only grew stronger. His hand slid from my waist, chilling me through the fabric of my gown as his touch lowered. He gripped my thigh with a force that made me gasp. Before I could react, he hoisted me effortlessly onto the thornwood table.

With a forceful motion, he positioned himself between my legs and pinned me down onto the table while still ravaging me with his kiss. My back pressed into the carved wood and the skirt of my gown pooled near my hips.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of panic and memory. Breathless, I realized the depth of his intent.

Did he mean to take me right here?

A low, guttural growl from nearby shattered the suffocating moment.

Sylvos froze, his lips pulling back from mine. His black eyes narrowed as he turned his attention toward the sound.

The vylnir stood on the far end of the table, its shadowy form twisting unnaturally, fur bristling and teeth bared. Its snarl echoed in the chamber, a promise of violence.

"Tell it to behave, or I'll cut it down where it stands," Sylvos warned. A stray strand of silver hair fell over his brow, framing the dark gleam of his gaze.

I gasped for air, my chest heaving as I fought to regain control of myself. Every fiber of my being longed to command the creature to rip him apart.

But I bit my tongue, knowing the precarious line I walked.

The vylnir's body coiled tighter, its shadowy limbs shifting as though it was preparing to strike. Swallowing my frustration, I forced myself to speak.

"Mყ ϝɾιҽɳԃ, ԃσ ɳσƚ αƚƚαƈƙ. Sƚαყ αʂ ყσυ αɾҽ. I αɱ ʂαϝҽ," I said bitterly.

The creature hesitated, its contortions slowing as it obeyed. But its eerie eyes remained fixed on the man on top of me, a silent warning lingering in the tension-choked air.

I trembled as Sylvos' black eyes locked onto mine. The jagged silver of his crown caught the light from the domed roof above. And for a moment, he looked more lethal than any sword.

"Y-Your Majesty!" I spoke up before he could continue his assault. "This... this isn't right. I am not of proper rank for such liberties."

He arched a dark brow.

"Would a tyrant care for such rules?"

He leaned closer, his body pressing against mine. Heat radiated from him, seeping through the fabric of my gown. My breath thinned.

"I-I was only jesting about that," I stammered, desperate to defuse the moment.

"Oh, I think not," he replied smoothly. "You spoke truth, Princess. You see me as a tyrant. Perhaps it's time I acted the part."