The Lycan King and His Dark Temptation Novel

---- Her face twisted with hatred-a true picture of horror. She took a step toward me, full of threat and rage. "Tell me the truth... did you get your vampire powers back?" she asked suddenly, and then muttered a spell. Something inside me tensed and burned. She was cruelly triggering the spell she'd mixed into my tea, but that couldn't overcome my will. Still, | opened my mouth and lied. "How could | possibly get my powers back?" | frowned, even holding my head like it was working.

"No, | haven't recovered anything..." "Then how the fuck did you escape all my traps?! How did you twist my seduction game and pull something so disgusting, you damn degenerate?!" She lunged at me, raging, yelling for me not to fight back, while she slapped my face and even dug her nails into my cheeks. Her fury had to be eating her alive. | stoically held back the urge to snap her neck... not yet, just a little longer, until she let her guard down completely. ---- The perfect moment was near.

You could see she wanted to do to me what she did to her maids -get rid of me on the spot. But she needed the men already coming down the hallway upstairs to witness her well-rehearsed performance. Breathing heavily, she looked at me and spat out her bile. "When Dracomir and the others turn the corner, push me down the stairs yourself, and yell that the Lord belongs to you. Attack me with all that hate | know you have." She ordered, placing her boots right on the edge.

My face looked at her like | didn't understand, even with "fear," " no will," and she gave me a sly smile. She thought she'd won. She wanted them to see me as some crazy killer, eliminating the Lord's suitors. The worst part: she belonged to the family Dracomir wouldn't dare defy-the ones he protected and cared for. The witnesses were just about to see us. The scared look on my face suddenly twisted into a smirk full of ---- sarcasm and malice.

"What...?" Celia tensed and trembled the moment she realized her mistake. "You're not... you're not..." She tried to escape, but | gripped her shoulders tightly, digging my claws in. "Of course I'm not under your spell, sweetheart. A bitch like you can't command a Vlad," | told her, and my body acted with the words. Before she could warn her people, | pulled the dagger hidden under my sash and, at that short distance, slit her throat so she couldn't scream.

The blood burst out like a waterfall, painting the world in scarlet. | stabbed her several more times in vital spots-lethal strikes that would give her only a few seconds of life... just enough for what was coming. "Da...d..." She clung to my shoulders, her frantic eyes darting to the side, where the guests were already arriving for the show. Her dress was soaked in blood, dripping grotesquely onto the carpet. ---- | leaned in close to her ear, holding her collapsing body.

"This is for all the women you killed without mercy. You messed with the wrong person, Celita. Dracomir is mine." | kissed her pale cheek, damp with tears and crimson. Then | stabbed her one more time, driving the hilt deep into her belly, just in case they hadn't seen me clearly from the hallway. | lifted my boot and shoved her down the stairs. Her body arched in the air, giving me one last look-still full of disbelief and a silent curse burning in her eyes. She'd die tormented. No curse she threw at me would ever stick not from a corpse.