Crown of Faeries

8 | Feral

My shoes clicked against the black and gold marble floor of the castle as Weston kept his palm pressed into my middle back. If I moved the wrong way, his fingers knotted in my straps and tugged me closer to him--pressing me deeply against his firm abdomen. His hot breath would hiss above my head and a dark chill would end up haunting me as the torch light above, on the spiked chandeliers, cast odd shadows and intangible shapes.

I'd managed to get my hair tied in a ponytail before Weston had come slamming back into my room and forcing me out. I'd spent the majority of the twenty minutes he'd given me to change and staring at myself in the mirror. In a matter of just three days, I'd changed completely. My freckles were startling clear and round on my nose, my lips more defined and rich in color, my round face was loosing it's under fat and becoming more defined around the jaw, and then my body was slimming out in places I'd never imaged that it would. My thighs more curvy in a flattering way, my hips still wide but lost their love handles, my shoulders less round and almost bony, and my breasts were getting smaller as well. I'd marveled at the new me for most of the time that it doesn't even seem real. It still felt like this was all still just a dream.

Weston pulled me to a halt by grasping onto my elbow roughly. I made a small sound in protest and he smirked at me. If I'd known Faeries were this rude and cruel, I don't think I would have ever wished for them to be true.

"Wait here." He commanded. I didn't nod or give him anything to say I understood the order, but I did glare and hiss internally at him.

I watched as his broad shoulders rounded the corner of the hallway and disappeared. After a moment of just soft foot beats, the sounds of a door opening brushed the floor and tingled through my toes. Anxiety came at me in waves.

The door never bothered to close as the echo of two men whispering whisked past my ears and down the hall. Their conversation was cut short by another door opening somewhere close, carrying the sounds of laughter and music with it.

"Weston," I recognized Lucian's voice. My chest ached as a rough intake of breath crushed my lungs. "Where is she?" Lucian asked his son firmly.

"She's just behind the corner." Weston sighed and I could just picture the slightly slumped shoulders and the bored look that drooped his gorgeous golden sea-like eyes.

I took a stumbling step backwards as the foot beats of Lucian came heavily towards my way. And just as I was about to fall backwards, his arm cupped my back at my waist and tugged me back up. I look at him with wide eyes, wondering how he got to me so quickly.

"Afraid to join the party?" He cooed as his arm dropped with a dragging hand.

A chill shook my shoulders and I backed away from him. "I thought I was going to get something to eat." I said honestly.

Lucian cracked a smile. His eyes feral and ravenous. "Of course there's food at the party." He put simply, his words trailing and hiding something between the lines.

"Do you always have parties in the mornings?" I asked and he chewed on his tongue.

"Why so many questions?" He breathed and I got a hint of Apple wine. It was an odd combination and smelled quite sour on his tongue. I huffed a relieving breath as I scooted my way towards the corner of the hallway.

"You say you want me to conform to your ways, but how will I if you do not answer my questions so I have a better understanding of your traditions?" My chin tilted up and he chuckled deep in his chest.

"You have a point," Lucian waved a sluggish finger in the air. "But the time for questions will be later. Right now I have the best singer on her way from Rython and I just know she'll be upset to not see you in the mix of the festivities."