Chapter 437: Another Vision Of Painful Memories
Explore the latest events in "The Devil's Betrothed" Chapter 437: Chapter 437: Another Vision Of Painful MemoriesYorian materialized in Erichâs mansionâs guest room. This time,...
Chapter 437: Another Vision Of Painful MemoriesYorian materialized in Erichâs mansionâs guest room. This time, he refrained from inquiring about Orianaâs recent visions. He was convinced that it must have been a distressing experience for her, but he purposely chose not to offer her comfort this time. She needed to confront and manage such challenges independently, to toughen herself. He understood that he couldnât always be there to provide solace. Eventually, he would have to step away from her side, and he didnât want her to remain vulnerable when he did.
Oriana had to learn to address matters on her own, especially those with emotional repercussions. They would affect once or twice or thrice, but over time, she would build resilience and become immune to manipulative tactics, strengthening herself not only physically but also emotionally, a vital skill in dealing with the cunning witch. As a queen, she had to develop emotional fortitude.
Inside Arlanâs chamber, Oriana lay beside him. This time, instead of attempting to comfort him, she was grappling with her own turmoil. Her body was drenched in sweat, and her eyes were tightly shut as she delved into Arlanâs memories, experiencing his pain and struggle. However, amidst those agonizing moments, what seemed to torment him the most was...
A hand that roamed across his body, the witchâs hand caressing his chest over his clothing. His body stiffened, and within his mind, he felt a wave of nausea and revulsion. He would have preferred physical torment over this violation. At that moment, he despised everything, even his own existence.
"You are mine, my Prince," came an evil chuckle, "Soon, I will make you mine, even if you donât wish it. This precious body of yours will belong to me."
Her hand slowly ascended from his chest, moving along his neck until it came to rest at his face. There, it tenderly caressed his cheek, though every moment of that touch filled him with disgust.
"You are so beautiful, my Prince. Youâve always been so beautiful," her fingers continued their path, tracing along his handsome features. "How you have grown into such an amazing man. The more I look at you, the more enchanted I become. You are handsome, just the way I prefer. Thatâs why you were made for me. You exist to serve and satisfy me."
Her thumb traced along his lips, causing his jaw to clench tightly. She could feel the tension in his jaw beneath her fingertips and chuckled, "Still fearful of my touch, my prince? What will you do when I will become your mate and you have to consummate the bond with me? You wonât be able to resist me for long. I believe you will give in and enjoy being my mate."
Taking pleasure in his helplessness, she withdrew her hand and moved back along his chest, all the while continuing to speak.
"Have you found your mate yet? It seems you havenât. Hmm, thatâs for the best, because you know what Iâll do with her. Donât you dare find someone else. I am the only one who can be your mate."
The witchâs hands began to circle around his waist, and she hugged him, her thin black clothes covered face rested on his chest like a woman madly in love with him.
"Why is your body so stiff? Are you still scared of me, my Prince? I will be your mate; you should get used to it." Her wicked voice sounded flirtatious. She nuzzled her black cloth-covered face into his chest and took a deep breath as if inhaling his scent.
"Uhm...Your scent, the dragonâs scent, how much I love it. Once we become mates, Iâll be able to smell your lovely scent even from a distance. Bring that Verner girl to me soon. I canât wait any longer. I want to be your mate as soon as possible. I know you desire me as well. After two decades of togetherness, I know you canât be without me, my Prince."
It was entirely one sided conversation since start as if Arlan was used to it and there was no reaction from him.
After a long while, she moved back, but Arlan remained the same, showing no reaction, his eyes devoid of emotion stared into the darkness ahead as if he wished to drown himself in it so he could see or feel nothing.
"For now, let me quench my thirst." She took Arlanâs right hand, pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, and caressed the inside of his wrist with her thumb, gently, savouring that touch of his pulsating blood vessels under his skin.
"I can feel your blood rushing through these veins. This blood, nothing could ever tastes better than this. Once we are mates, I would be able to drink it every day and we wonât have to wait for the night of fullmoon to be able to see each other."
With that, she brought his hand up toward her mouth, and Arlan remained still as a statue, devoid of fear or hesitation. His eyes were as cold as ice.
In the next moment, pain coursed through his body as a potent wave of dark magic enveloped him. He squeezed his eyes shut in the midst of extreme agony, a pain inflicted by the sinister black magic, amplified by the strength of his own divine blood, which had the power to harm him as well. The torment continued to drain every ounce of his strength as the witch continued to feed on his blood for an extended duration, satiating her thirst.
After a lengthy ordeal, when she finally let go, Arlanâs complexion had turned pallid, and his body appeared completely drained of energy.
Oriana, who had been witnessing and experiencing the ordeal as if she were Arlan, suffering through the immense pain, lay drenched in sweat, her body trembling and shivering in her sleep.
She held Arlan closer as her hands wrapped around him tightly. This time, seeking comfort for her own pain rather than providing it to him.
Beneath the thick blanket, a witch and a dragon grappled with their respective agonies, enduring the ordeal until the night had passed.