That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King’s Slave Mate Novel

Chapter 190: EMERIEL

Emeriel's body screamed with exhaustion.

Every rasping breath seared his lungs, every step sent tremors through his leaden limbs. Yet he ran, propelled by the blind instinct to survive.

"Damn, wish we had kept the arrow!" an assassin's voice grated behind him, followed by the ominous hiss of steel sliding free. Emeriel reacted without thought, a desperate lurch to the side, barely evading the unseen blade.

So close, almost there…

He never saw the hands that seized him. One moment, he was running, the next, a vise-like grip yanked him off his feet.

His scream choked off as he dangled, kicking uselessly against the tremendous strength. A chilling laugh echoed in his ear.

"Got you at last, pretty prince," his captor hissed, venomous glee lacing the words.

"Let me go!" Emeriel shrieked, his voice cracking. "The beast… he'll tear you apart if you touch me! Don't-"

"Silence, wretch! Do you really think you're special to our feral king?" the soldier barked into Emeriel's ear. "I will slit your throat and see how precious you are then!"

The now-familiar urge returned. A persistent rush, just like that fateful day in court. This time, Emeriel did not fight it. He surrendered.

"My beloved, I need your help. My beloved, please help me," Emeriel's desperate cries echoed against the cold stone walls.

His voice trembled with fear and dread. What if the beast does not answer his plea?

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"What the hell is he saying?" one of them cackled.

A roar filled the air. It tore through the silence like a guttural explosion that seemed to shake the very foundations of the fortress.

"What in the name of all that's holy…"

"Gods above…"

Frantically, the soldiers glanced around, desperate to pinpoint the source of the sound.

"Could that have been the feral?"

"Do not be a fool," the one holding Emeriel barked. "Let us get this boy out of here before someone spots-" The crack of splintering wood cut him off. An earsplitting snarl ripped through the air, followed by a blur of movement, too fast to track.

"Ukrae preserve us," breathed another soldier, his voice barely a whisper.

Panic rippled around them as the soldiers scattered like ants, their boots slapping against the stone floor. But the beast was a blur of muscle and fury, cutting them off with lightning speed.

It lunged, a whirlwind of claws and teeth, each strike tearing through flesh and bone. Screams echoed, mixing with the sickening scent of copper.

Emeriel's adrenaline surged, numbing his senses. He'd come. His beloved came for him.

As the beast killed the last of its attackers, Emeriel stumbled forward, throwing himself into the beast's blood-soaked embrace.

"Thank you," he choked out, burying his face in the creature's thick fur. "Thank you, my King, thank you."

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