Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 58

Garrick

The flickering torches cast dancing shadows across the weathered stone walls of Nightfang Fortress's great hall. I sat upon my carved oak throne, my fingers drumming an irritated rhythm against the ancient wood.

A sudden disaster. The timing was so perfect. My instincts screamed that this catastrophe bore the hallmarks of deliberate orchestration. And there was only one person clever enough—and ruthless enough—to conceive such an elaborate scheme.

"Where the hell is Morgana?" I snarled at my lieutenant.

The poor bastard flinched at the venom in my voice. "Commander, we've received no word from her since—"

"My dear Garrick," a voice purred from the hall's entrance, smooth as silk yet carrying undeniable power. "Were you missing me?"

Every head turned toward the doorway, where Morgana stood like a vision crafted from shadow and desire. Her deep purple gown clung to her voluptuous form, her raven-black hair cascading down her back. Her lips curved in that enigmatic smile that had driven me to distraction for months.

She moved with predatory grace, her hips swaying in a rhythm that made my blood quicken despite my irritation.

"Commander," she said, executing a perfect curtsy before my throne, though the mischievous glint in her violet eyes transformed the gesture into something far more provocative than respectful.

My earlier anger dissolved, replaced by possessive satisfaction. I leaned forward, drinking in the sight of her. "Finally. I was beginning to think you'd encountered trouble at the borders."

Morgana laughed, musical and captivating. Without hesitation, she settled herself gracefully upon the armrest—a position only someone with absolute confidence would dare assume. Her slender fingers traced the line of my jaw.

"Did you miss me, Commander?" she whispered, her voice dropping to that husky register that never failed to make my cock twitch. "During those long, lonely nights..."

I caught her wrist, firm enough to demonstrate control yet careful not to bruise her. "Of course. But we have more pressing matters to discuss." My expression hardened. "The western plague, the insect swarms... those are your handiwork, aren't they?"

Morgana's eyes widened in mock innocence, though I caught the flash of cunning satisfaction. "My darling Garrick, surely you haven't forgotten? You explicitly requested that I sow sufficient chaos throughout werewolf territory to pave your path to the throne. I was simply... faithfully executing your commands."

I frowned, studying her face. "Those black beetles, the 'Hungry Ones'—where did they come from?"

"There's a particularly talented sorcerer working the borderlands," Morgana replied with casual elegance. "I traded considerable gold and jewels for his services. Those little creatures are quite effective, wouldn't you agree?"

My expression darkened, and my voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "You've gone too far. The dead werewolves weaken my future army, especially those promising pups. This does no good to my plans."

Morgana leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear. "It was the fastest way to create the necessary upheaval, my king." She deliberately emphasized the last word. "Those insects will dissipate within days, causing no permanent damage. And for your throne... what are a few dozen werewolf lives compared to ultimate power?"

Her words were ice-cold pragmatism wrapped in velvet, devoid of compassion. Such ruthlessness was precisely what made her so valuable to my cause.

Sensing my contemplation, Morgana's smile widened. From her waist, she withdrew an exquisite crystal vial filled with viscous crimson liquid that pulsed with its own internal light.

"This also came from our sorcerous friend," she said, holding up the vial. "He calls it 'Blood of Shadows.' According to him, it can dramatically enhance the drinker's strength and abilities... enough to match that recently recovered Wolf King of yours."

The mention of increased power ignited fierce hunger in my chest. For too long I'd been forced to play subordinate, bowing before Lycanthar's supposed authority. The possibility of finally claiming the respect I deserved made my hands tremble with anticipation.

I reached for the vial, but Morgana intercepted my grasp. "Allow me," she murmured, moving closer until her body pressed against my throne. She brought the vial to my lips.

The liquid flowed down my throat like molten fire. Almost immediately, I felt raw energy exploding through my body—my muscles seemed to expand, my blood roared through my veins, and every nerve buzzed with newfound vitality.

But alongside the intoxicating rush came another sensation: an overwhelming wave of sexual arousal that hit like a physical blow. My cock hardened instantly, straining against my leather pants with painful urgency.

Morgana's knowing smile told me she'd anticipated this. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees, her fingers working at my belt. The assembled guards and servants watched in stunned silence as she freed my throbbing erection.

"Now," she whispered, "let me help you... manage this side effect."

Her mouth enveloped my cock with expert precision, her tongue swirling before taking me deeper. I groaned involuntarily, my head falling back as she worked with skilled enthusiasm. The combination of magical enhancement and her ministrations drove me toward the edge of sanity.

Morgana seemed equally affected. She released me and rose elegantly, her hands moving to her gown's lacings. The silk slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet to reveal her naked form—perfect breasts topped with dusky nipples, the dark triangle between her thighs promising untold pleasures.

She straddled my lap with feline grace, positioning herself above my aching cock. When she sank down, taking my full length in one smooth motion, I gripped the armrests to keep from crying out.

The sensation of being buried inside her was indescribable. She began to move with sinuous precision, her hips rolling in a rhythm that sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body. Her head fell back as soft moans escaped her lips.

The guards and servants, faces flushed with embarrassment, began filing quietly from the hall. The great oak doors closed with a soft thud, leaving us alone.

Outside in the corridor, I could hear hushed voices. A young servant's nervous whisper: "Who exactly is Morgana? How dare she be so... bold?"

An older man's cautious response: "She's Commander Garrick's consort—not a slave, not a blood thrall. Her position is... unique. They say she provides intelligence and magical assistance, earning his trust." A pause, then lower: "Remember this, boy—never cross Lady Morgana. Not if you value your life."

Their conversation was interrupted by Morgana's increasingly passionate cries echoing from within. I heard their footsteps quicken as they retreated.

Inside the hall, Morgana's movements had become more urgent, her breath coming in short gasps. The Blood of Shadows had transformed my stamina into something superhuman.

"Yes," she gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders. "Take what's yours, my king."

Her words pushed me over the edge. With a roar, I gripped her hips and thrust upward one final time, spilling myself inside her with blinding intensity. Morgana cried out in response, her body clenching as she reached her own peak.

We remained locked together, struggling to catch our breath. The Blood of Shadows continued coursing through my veins, making me feel invincible. Combined with claiming Morgana so thoroughly, I felt ready to take on the world—including one formerly mad Wolf King.

As our breathing slowly returned to normal, I studied Morgana's flushed face and satisfied smile. She was magnificent, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there were depths to her I hadn't yet fathomed. Her knowledge of magic, her connections to mysterious sorcerers, her unknown origins—all spoke to secrets that ran deeper than she'd revealed.

But for now, those mysteries could wait. I had a throne to claim, and thanks to Morgana's gifts, I finally had the tools to make it happen.