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

Chapter 335: Bewilderment was evident in his voice. "He wanted this, the beast. But when I raise the whip… the urge disappears. Replaced by this need to protect you."

Aekeira blinked at him, trying to make sense of his words. She didn't fully understand. Not what he was saying, nor what it meant for them. "The urge is still there. I still want to use it," he said, his grip on the whip tightening. "But not on you." Yellow flashed in his dark, wild eyes. "Tell me someone who has hurt you."

Aekeira's heart raced. "I… I…" Her mind blanked as she struggled to process his demand.

"Give me a name," Lord Vladya growled through gritted teeth, as if he were barely holding back the storm. He looked savage, feral, and deeply enraged. "Who has hurt you recently? Give me someone on whom I can unleash this darkness inside me." A name surfaced in her mind before she could stop it. "Slavemaster Tyke," she blurted out. Then immediately regretted it, biting her lip. "Forget I said anything."

Vladya's expression darkened further. His voice was icy, controlled. "Was it before or after the warning I issued him?"

"Lord Vladya…" Aekeira tried to avoid his gaze. She knew the dangers too well-slaves who reported slavemasters or soldiers often found themselves in even more perilous situations. She had learned that lesson from Amie. There was never true safety in speaking out.

"Was it before or after?" he snapped.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "After. But-"

Lord Vladya grabbed the discarded sheet and threw it over her, covering her exposed body. "Yaz!" he barked, his voice reverberating off the stone walls of the chamber. "Get in here. Now."

The soldier entered, and Aekeira turned her face to the side, swallowing her sound of embarrassment at being caught in such a humiliating position.

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Yaz, however, remained stoic. His eyes fixed forward, his voice as emotionless as always. "Yes, my lord?"

"Bring me Tyke," Lord Vladya commanded, his tone as sharp as the whip he clutched tightly. "Right this instant."

When the door opened once more, Yaz entered, the slavemaster Tyke trailing nervously behind. Glancing around the room in confusion, he cleared his throat. "My Lord, y-you sent for me…"

Vladya stopped his pacing, turning his full attention to the slavemaster. "Kneel, Tyke." Tyke dropped to his knees.

"You've earned a reputation as one of the best masters in the fortress," Lord Vladya said smoothly. "And for that, I have chosen to give you an honor. You will be on the receiving end of this whip. What do you have to say to that?"

Tyke's throat bobbed. His gaze locked with Aekeira's on the bed, and a resentful glare contorted his features. Then, he looked up at Lord Vladya, puffing out his chest. "It will be an honor. As My Lord wishes."

Lord Vladya positioned himself, and the first crack of the whip sliced through the air. Followed by another, and another.

Slavemaster Tyke tried to stifle his cries, but after the fourth lash, he was openly screaming.

Aekeira tried to count the lashes but lost track after thirty. Deep welts and bruises crisscrossed his back, each strike leaving a fresh mark.

Lord Vladya showed no mercy, his arm rising and falling with unrestrained power. Tyke's flesh became a raw, bloody mess.

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