Chapter 4 THE UNSEEN BLADE
Selene stood in her slave's tiny room. Naked.
She realized after she had entered the building with Dorothy that she was being taken to the slaves' quarters.
She had just finished cleaning herself with the small basin of water in the general washroom, and now, Dorothy was standing behind her, waiting for her to wear the two-piece outfit on top of her thin, small bed.
"You have ten minutes, Selene," Dorothy's authoritative voice filled the room.
Selene gulped and stepped forward, leaning over to pick up the outfit. Tears rolled down her freshly cleaned face as she realized that this was yet another humiliation ritual.
The silk, red material felt like sin against her hand; too smooth, too perfect. The candlelight made the silk shine, and if this were sewn as a modest dress, it would be one of those dresses that contrasted beautifully with Selene's perfect skin.
Sighing quietly, she put her legs into the long, free-flowing skirt, the garment shimmering down her long legs in an enchanting manner. For a moment, she felt protected, covered.
But as she pulled the top over her head, her heart sank as realization dawned on her.
It was a cruel garment—a mere ribbon of crimson fabric that barely managed to cover her nipples, leaving the undersides of her breasts entirely bare. Every movement felt like it would cause the top to unravel, exposing her completely.
Selene tried to pull the top lower, but to no avail. She was only left to be glad that it, at least, covered her rosy buds.
"Untie your hair," Dorothy said.
Selene clenched her fists tightly, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Slowly, she reached behind her head and untied the loose bun she'd made when she was cleaning herself.
Her dark, wavy hair fell like water down to her waist, framing the sides of her face. Without thinking, she used her hair to cover her breasts, throwing it over her shoulders.
She knew she looked like a complete whore, but she wasn't going to let herself lose her value. She was going to show everyone that environment, situation, or even clothing does not change who a person is on the inside.
"Good. Now, follow me," Dorothy said.
Selene reluctantly turned, watching Dorothy pull the wooden door open.
"Do not stand there; follow," Dorothy frowned.
Selene nodded, forcing her feet to move behind Dorothy.
As they stepped into the thin hallway, Selene lowered her head, just like she'd done when she was arriving.
She could feel the curious eyes on her as they moved toward the stairs.
"Good evening, Ms. Dorothy."
Selene heard a sweet voice greet Dorothy ahead. She wanted to look, but she promised herself never to get acquainted with anyone in the Ravenwyck Castle.
"Ugh," Selene suddenly gasped, clutching her stomach in pain and snapping her head up to glare at the person who had just punched her stomach.
"Why?" She grunted, clenching her jaw in anger.
She stared at the young woman—tall, beautiful, with bright blonde hair that could probably light a hallway in the dark.
Instead of apologizing, the blonde girl smiled, "Watch your step, bitch," she whispered, shrugging past Selene.
"Selene?" Dorothy's voice rang from the stairs.
Selene straightened, groaning as her stomach ached badly. She glanced behind her but couldn't find the blonde vampire slave girl anywhere.
Swallowing her pain, she resumed walking, climbing down the stairs to catch up with Dorothy.
Dorothy flared her an impatient look and continued.
Soon, they were walking along the walkway again, heading toward the main castle.
As they entered the hallway, a chill ran down Selene's spine as she recalled her encounter with that rough guard who shoved her out of the door; she hoped she never encountered him again.
"Stay close," Dorothy said, walking around the Ravenwyck crest on the floor and toward the twin staircases.
Selene had a bad feeling about this unexplained journey, but how could she complain? She stepped her bare feet on the carpeted stairs, the velvet feel soothing the biting cold of the marble floor.
The stairs spiraled forever, and Selene wondered if they would ever reach the top.
With each step up the grand staircase, the air grew thinner and colder. It smelled of crushed velvet, cold marble, and that deep, lingering sandalwood note that clung to the King. It was a scent that didn't just inhabit the room; it owned it.
And as they climbed even higher, Selene watched how the pillars started to tilt at their ending, the raven carvings glowing under the light from the chandelier.
"You do not refuse. You do not have an opinion. You only submit," Dorothy suddenly paused at the foot of the last staircase.
Selene stared at her, not saying a word. What was there to say when she was literally asked not to have an opinion?
Not once in history did a slave have an opinion. Why would it start with her?
"Do you understand?" Dorothy asked sternly.
Selene nodded, still not speaking.
"Go up, move toward the left, and only stop when you find the heavy dark oak door; knock once... only once," Dorothy said and started to climb down the stairs, not waiting for any reply from Selene.
Selene gulped, a cold chill running down her spine. She moved closer to the silver rail, looking down to check how far she'd gone. She almost felt dizzy as the stairs spiraled beneath.
She inhaled shakily and moved away from the rails, looking ahead at the last stairs.
Did she want to go?
No.
But she had to... a slave had no will.
"Oh, goddess," she murmured, taking her first step forward.
The air there was different—perfumed with an unsettling, lingering scent of sandalwood and dried blood, as if the castle itself were perpetually stained by the King's presence. There was a raw, musky undertone that made her wolf-senses spike in warning.
Each step drew her closer to her ruin, and she hated that no one was even holding a blade to her throat, yet she was climbing on her own. Because, there might not be a physical blade to her throat, but psychologically, she knew a very sharp silver blade hung right against her pulse; any wrong move, and it would slice right through her, ending her before she even figured out how to escape.
Her legs left the last step and onto the marble floor passageway.
"Left," she turned to her left, the passageway eerily quiet and haunting. The walls were decorated with paintings of the vampire kind, and in all of them, he looked so unreal and cold.
Seeing his face again made Selene quiver with fear. She recalled the way he almost killed her in the carriage, and now, she was literally about to offer herself to him.
She swallowed hard, forcing her heavy legs to move toward the passageway.
"Moon goddess, if you can hear me, save me... please," she prayed quietly.
At the very end of the passageway was the heavy, dark oak door. It was smoothly polished and even reflecting the fire from the candles on the wall. She didn't need to be told that this was HIS chamber.
A heavy weight sat on Selene's chest, her palms turning cold and sweaty. The scent of sandalwood was the most intense in front of the door, confirming her thoughts that, indeed, this was Lucian's chamber.
"Knock once," she muttered, reluctantly lifting her hand toward the door.
Her knuckles were ready—shaky, but ready.
However, before she could make contact with the door, it slowly creaked open by itself, revealing a pitch-black room.
She gasped, taking a step back as dread washed over her.
"Enter," Lucian's cold voice slithered from the dark room.
Selene hugged her arms around herself, suddenly reminded that her top was barely there. She hated it. Hated that even her body was no longer hers.
Sniffling, she held back her tears and stepped toward the room. The moment she crossed the door, it rolled shut behind her; the sound of the latch locking in place sealed her doom.
She stood there in darkness, lips trembling as she turned her head from left to right, as if she could find anyone in the dark. She was really a half-blood; she wasn't even blessed with the common nocturnal vision like other wolves, just a useless pair of eyes.
"Oh no," Selene shuddered as she suddenly felt a presence behind her.
Lucian was right behind her.
Even as a creature of ice and shadows, his breath felt impossibly hot, fanning against her skin like a slow, deliberate flame.
"P-please... don't hurt me..." she stammered, her heart pounding against her ribcage with brutal force.
A whoosh passed her and her breath hitched in her throat, her lips becoming extremely dry due to fear.
Soon, a flicker of light appeared from the corner, the flames dancing slowly inside the glass on top of the table.
She glanced around, but she was all alone in the room. She felt like prey being toyed with by a predator, never knowing when her death would come.
In front of her, the canopy king-sized bed was draped in crimson silk sheets, the Ravenwyck crest boldly carved onto the dark wood of the bed.
Dark curtains draped the windows, blocking out any source of external light from the room.
"Oh, goddess!" She gasped, biting her lips as Lucian suddenly appeared in front of her, her soul almost leaving her body by the way her heart skipped so fast.
She froze in place, staring at Lucian in utter fear. Her limbs nearly gave out as she stared at his intimidating figure wrapped in that midnight silk robe, making him look every part of the king of darkness that he was; and those crimson eyes did nothing to temper her fear.
"Move to the table," Lucian ordered calmly.
Selene nodded almost too quickly, pushing her trembling self toward the table, standing with her back to Lucian.
Slowly, she heard the quiet footsteps approaching behind her, and she started to shake like a leaf, her teeth loudly clattering in real fear.
"Turn around," Lucian commanded quietly, his eyes locked behind Selene's head.
