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

Chapter 191: The beast paused, its rage seeming to ebb away. A gentle nudge from its massive head, accompanied by a soft, rumbling growl, conveyed a warmth that belied its fearsome anger.

"Do not die," Emeriel whispered, his words tight with emotion. Tears welled up in his eyes. "They're going to kill you tomorrow, and I… I cannot bear it. I refuse to believe you are as mindless as they say. I wish I could save you. I wish I could save you."

Emeriel pulled back, his face pale. The beast lowered him to his feet but did not release its hold. Emeriel did not mind.

"I know you're in there, somewhere. I just… don't know how to reach you," he murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow. The beast rumbled again, its gaze slowly moving to Emeriel's neck, fixing there pointedly.

Emeriel held his breath, his heart pounding. Was that some sort of… communication?

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Helplessness mingled with desperate hope. "I wish I could understand…"

And then, he felt something else.

His blood surged through his veins, and a tingling warmth followed. Emeriel yearned, with a sudden, fierce intensity, for the beast to drink from him once more. He tilted his head, baring the vulnerable curve of his neck. "Drink," he rasped. "Please, I want you to… to drink from me again."

It seemed the beast had been waiting for the invitation. A rough tongue lashed across his neck, followed by the sharp sting of a fang. The beast had begun to feed.

GRAND LORD VLADYA

Grand Lord Vladya stood frozen, hidden in the shadows. He watched, his hand gripping Yaz's arm, stunned. Speechless. Unable to tear his gaze away.

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After centuries of existence, filled with so many experiences both wondrous and horrific, very little could genuinely surprise him anymore.

He had borne witness to the full spectrum of the world's nature-the beautiful heights of goodness and the abyssal depths of evil. Yet, even with a past scarred by darkness, he had never, in all his extensive life, envisioned a sight such as this.

Daemonikai had broken free to answer the boy's call. The boy's strange call.

Vladya's voice caught in his throat, a strange knot of emotions twisting in his chest.

"Your Highness, did the feral beast of the grand king just… communicate with that boy?" Yaz's voice, though hushed, held a tremor that betrayed his normally unflappable demeanor.

Even in the low murmur, Vladya could detect the disbelief edging into his trusted soldier's tone.

Daemon had just saved Emeriel. Again.

His untamed, bestial friend had shown someone remarkable gentleness.

The boy was bloodfeeding a feral. Willingly.

Overwhelmed by the scene unfolding before him, Vladya struggled to process the sheer improbability of it all. His mind raced, each thought tripping over the last. His eyes were wide with astonishment, jaw slack in awe.

A lifetime of carefully cultivated composure faltered as his mouth opened and closed soundlessly, unable to form words. He was a master of self-control, nothing truly got to him anymore, yet this…

The beast clung to the boy as it drank from him.

Its paw did not dig into the boy's skin. Instead, it delicately used a fang to draw blood from the boy's pale neck.

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