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

Chapter 471: Moments like this reminded her who the man sitting across the desk truly was.

The same male whose stories were told across human lands under the moonlight as horror tales. In legends, some even named him "The Backbone of Urekai."

Now, after truly knowing him, Emeriel could finally admit: legends do not lie, after all.

"She's gone into heatstroke," Mistress Sinai observed coolly, watching as the young female retched on the floor. "Perhaps you should consider bringing in her male?" "She'll get over it," Zaiper said, indifferent. He was sprawled naked across the bed, his expression one of irritation.

The girl's body bore the marks of her ordeal-scratches from where she had clawed at herself raw after being mounted by the Second Ruler. Her skin was red and bleeding, her body rejecting Zaiper's touch, which made every moment with him excruciating for her. Not that Zaiper cared.

The girl curled into herself, breathing heavily, her pain evident.

Sinai felt a sliver of sympathy for her. Zaiper had been choosing nobodies-those whose absence would go unnoticed by society-for his new obsessive quest to sire an heir. This youngling, barely one hundred and eighty years old, was his third. Zaiper bred them despite their lack of compatibility.

Sinai could imagine the unbearable pain they must endure, but it didn't move her enough to intervene. Not that she could, of course. Zaiper would destroy her if she tried. In some ways, she found this spectacle… entertaining.

Razarr, on the other hand, looked sick to his stomach, as always. For someone who wouldn't bat an eyelash at killing, he turned pale whenever his master was "at it" again. He'd excused himself a few times already, slipping out without waiting to be dismissed.

"Razarr, bring her back to the bed," Zaiper ordered, his tone impatient. "I'm ready for another round."

Discover more content at ɢαlnσνeℓs․com

His head soldier hesitated. "She's nearly passed out, Your Majesty."

"Doesn't matter. She's in heat," Zaiper waved a dismissive hand. "Heat doesn't sleep. Now bring her to me."

Razarr lowered his gaze, obeying, as he pulled the barely conscious girl back to the bed.

"No, n-no… please," the girl cried weakly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It hurts really b-b-bad."

Zaiper positioned himself behind her, proceeding to bury himself deep. The girl screamed in a distorted, agonized voice, clawing at the bedding. The grand lord parted her legs even further, slamming into her over and over again.

The girl's fingers dug so fiercely into the sheets that she splintered a nail, leaving streaks of blood across the fabric.

Sinai winced. Poor girl, she thought.

Which reminded her… the mistress surveyed her own nails, frowning. "I really need to visit the salon; this chipped polish simply won't do." Razarr excused himself once more, his footsteps echoing as he left the room.

Walking to the vanity, her silken robe trailing behind her, Sinai retrieved a small knife from the drawer. She sat down on the armrest and began scraping away the polish, the girl's anguished cries filling the silence.

"You really are an animal, dearest Zaiper," she mumbled, glancing at him.

The grand lord didn't take offense. Instead, he smiled. "We're all animals, lovely Sinai." Thrust, thrust, thrust. "Besides, beyond the heir, an irritated male needs to work off a little steam every now and then."

.

.

.