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

Chapter 691: "I am ready," she breathed.

"Let's not-"

"Please, let's try…"

Daemonikai searched her eyes. What he saw there broke his damn heart. Still, he gave in to her, capturing her lips in a kiss.

It was gentle. Soft. Patient.

After a moment, she kissed him back, her hands tentatively sliding up his arms. A quiet, needy sound left her.

Only then did he move again. He began to push inside her, inch by inch. Her heat enveloped his cock, welcoming him. Soft. Yielding. Molding against him in ways that sent pleasure curling up his spine.

But then, she wrenched her mouth from his and started to thrash.

Shoving at his shoulders, striking blindly, fingers clawing at his skin.

"Stop, stop! No, no, please-!" She fought as her cries rose in raw panic. Daemonikai jerked away at once.

Free, she bolted. Scrambling across the bed so quickly, she lost her footing and tumbled off the edge with a thud. But even as she hit the ground, she did not stop.

She kept crawling, scrambling backward on hands and knees until her back met the far wall. Then, she pressed herself into the corner as though she could disappear into the stone.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she cried as her knees came up to her chest, and she wrapped her arms around them in a tight grip.

"Please stop hurting me, I'm really sorry…! So sorry, so sorry…"

Those words came in a repeat like a broken litany as she rocked herself back and forth, trembling like a leaf.

Something just died inside of me.

Daemonikai was a frozen statue as his female ran from him in the worst way one should run from another.

Watching her rock back and forth, press herself further against the wall to get away from him, he could not breathe. His chest was as heavy as stone.

That terrible morning, he had stood before her bed, gazed at her wounds, and saw the damage he caused. Never did he think that not having the memory took anything away, but now he saw it did.

Those bruises, which had covered every part of her body, detailed only a fraction of her suffering… and even those had faded. But the ones inside were concealed. The scar on her soul.

Her soft heart forgave him. During the heat, her body forgave him too. But the deepest part of her mind, which had finally trusted him as her protector-the part he battered the night he became an abuser-did not. Perhaps it never would. Perhaps it never could.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she still whispered, even in her deep fear that he would ignore her "no" and pounce on her.

Devastated was too small a word to describe how he felt. He was dying inside.

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Daemonikai pulled up his pants, slid to the bed's edge, and buried his face in his hands.

Time stretched. He had no idea how long he sat there, swallowed by the storm that had pulled him under. How does one drown on dry land? Yet he had sunk. Deeply submerged. The way he struggled to draw breath proved it.

A hesitant hand touched him.

Tentative fingers threaded softly through his hair.

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