Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 73

Morgana

The candles cast dancing shadows across the ebony walls of Garrick's private chambers in Nightfang Fortress. I traced the silver chains that bound his powerful wrists to the bedposts, admiring how they gleamed against his bronzed skin. I let the whip fall on his muscular back, leaving another deep red mark.

"You enjoy this too much, my lady," Garrick growled, his voice rough with desire and pain. His red eyes blazed with that familiar mix of submission and barely contained wildness that made our games so intoxicating.

I smiled, allowing the whip to trail along his spine before delivering another precise strike. "And you pretend to resist it too little, my dear commander." The mark bloomed beautifully across his shoulder blade, and I leaned down to trace it with my tongue, tasting the salt of his skin and the metallic hint of blood.

"Morgana," he breathed, my name a prayer and a curse on his lips.

I slid lower, feeling the heat radiating from his body as I positioned myself along his length. When I reached between his legs to grasp his hardened length, he bucked against the restraints with a sound that was pure animal hunger.

"Patience," I whispered against his ear, my breath hot against his skin. "We have all night."

But our night was interrupted by urgent knocking at the chamber door.

The sound cut through the air like a blade, and I felt Garrick's entire body go rigid beneath me. His fangs extended as his eyes flashed dangerous crimson. "Who dares interrupt me?"

"Commander Garrick," came the nervous voice of a guard through the heavy door. "Urgent intelligence from the western borders."

I exchanged a meaningful look with Garrick, seeing my own calculating interest reflected in his eyes. This could only be about the situation in Greywolf territory—and if it was urgent enough to risk his wrath, it was significant indeed.

Rising with fluid grace, I pulled on a sheer silk robe that did little to conceal the curves beneath. "I'll handle this, darling," I purred, my voice like velvet and honey.

I opened the door just enough to reveal myself to the guard, noting how his eyes immediately dropped to avoid my nearly naked form. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled to maintain his composure, clearly terrified of having disturbed Garrick's private time.

"Speak," I commanded, my tone deceptively gentle.

"My lady," he stammered, "Draven has discovered a solution to the insect plague—it requires gathering four sacred materials. The message has been sent to the Wolf King, and His Majesty has already been searching for these materials."

Interesting. So someone had actually found a way to counter my carefully crafted plague. I felt a flicker of surprise, quickly followed by confidence. Whatever solution they thought they'd found, I could easily... adjust.

"I see," I said, my red lips curving into what appeared to be a pleased smile. "You may go."

The door closed with a soft click, and I turned back to find Garrick watching me with hungry eyes. "Now, where were we?" I moved back toward the bed with predatory grace, letting the silk robe pool at my feet.

Garrick's gaze devoured my naked form as I climbed onto the bed, positioning myself above his rigid length. "You're magnificent," he breathed, his earlier anger forgotten in the face of renewed desire.

I slowly lowered myself onto him, taking him completely inside me. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as I engulfed him, the chains rattling violently as he strained against his bonds.

"Tell me," I breathed, beginning to move with deliberate slowness that had him trembling beneath me, "how do you plan to handle this new development?"

His red eyes blazed with desperate hunger as I established a rhythm that left him helpless. "Let me... worry about that... later..." he managed between harsh breaths.

I leaned down, my breasts brushing against his chest as I whispered in his ear, "What if I told you I could handle this little problem for you?" My inner muscles clenched around him as I spoke, drawing a tortured groan from deep in his throat.

"What do you mean?" His voice was strained, caught between arousal and sharp interest.

Instead of answering, I increased my pace, rolling my hips in ways that had him bucking beneath me. "I have my... resources," I murmured, punctuating each word with movements that drove him to the edge of madness. "Trust me to protect what's ours."

The climax built between us like wildfire. When release finally claimed us both, Garrick's roar of pleasure shook the very walls, mixing with my own cries of satisfaction.

In the heated aftermath, as we lay breathing heavily, Garrick's eyes found mine with predatory intensity.

"How?" he asked, his voice rough with spent passion.

I traced lazy patterns on his sweat-slicked chest, feeling him already beginning to harden beneath me again. "Leave that to me, my love," I whispered, shifting to straddle him once more. "Our night has only just begun."

---

Lycandor Keep slumbered in the deepest hours before dawn, wrapped in shadows. I moved through the corridors like a wraith, my dark cloak allowing me to blend seamlessly with the darkness between the torches. The guards followed their predictable patterns, and I avoided them with the ease of centuries of practice.

The treasury lay deep within the keep's heart, protected by both physical and magical barriers. As I approached the final corridor, I could see the two elite guards standing at attention before the massive doors.

I stepped out of the shadows, allowing them to see me approach. Their hands moved to their weapons, but I was already weaving my influence through the air between us.

"Look at me," I commanded softly, my voice carrying the weight of ancient power.

Their eyes met mine, and I let my true nature surface—pupils dilating to crimson, an otherworldly gleam revealing the predator within. My breath turned unnaturally cold, leeching the warmth from the air. Sharp canine teeth pressed against my tongue as ancient power thrummed through my veins.

I spoke in an ancient tongue, syllables of liquid shadow carrying the weight of centuries and the promise of eternal night.

The guards' expressions went blank, their souls displaced by my will. A faint pallor crept across my skin, as if drawing in the moonlight. Like marionettes, they unlocked the treasury doors with mechanical precision, then resumed their posts as if nothing had happened.

As the compulsion settled, my features returned to their human facade—the crimson fading from my eyes, warmth returning to my breath, and the predatory sharpness of my teeth receding.

I slipped inside the treasury, my enhanced senses mapping the room instantly. Treasures beyond imagining filled the space—artifacts of power, jewels that captured starlight, weapons forged in ages past. But I had come for something specific.

The Moonlight Flower rested in an ornate silver box in a shadowed alcove, its pale blue radiance casting gentle patterns on the walls around it. I approached and lifted the precious bloom, feeling its pure energy thrumming against my consciousness like a discordant note.

Then I began the ritual.

Dark energy flowed from my fingertips like liquid night, seeping into the flower's pure radiance. The corruption was subtle, barely visible to casual observation, but I could feel the change in its very essence. Where once it had been purely benevolent, now it carried the seeds of destruction.

When the ritual was complete, the flower appeared unchanged to mundane eyes—still beautiful, still radiant. But beneath that facade lay my gift: a curse that would activate at the moment of greatest hope, turning salvation into damnation.

I replaced the flower in its container, ensuring everything appeared exactly as I'd found it. The guards remained motionless as I passed between them, their minds still clouded by my influence. Only after I'd vanished into the shadows did their awareness return, leaving them with no memory of my presence.

As I made my way back through the sleeping keep, my thoughts turned to the larger game at play. The Wolf King and his human companion thought they were gathering tools to save their people. In reality, they were assembling the instruments of their own destruction.

The irony was delicious.