Chapter 46
Dylan POV
I hadn’t noticed how long I had been bathing for, until a small knock sounded on one of the many locked entrances of the bathroom.
“Your Grace, it is time to prepare you for the king tonight. You have been in there for over an hour.” I ignored my handmaiden and continued to bathe, trying hard to block out the sound of her high pitched voice. When I didn’t answer a louder knock blasted through the room, as if a cannon had gone of
“Get out at once, his grace will not be happy if you are not ready and waiting for him.” The old bitch that calls herself my dresser, was hammering on the door, ordering me to leave the room. I don’t think they knew I was
still in the bath tub.
Ready and waiting? She made me sound like I was a fucking object or his dinner. I’m not gonna sit or stand in his room like an ornament just waiting for him to finish work. So I stayed where I was, my skin was becoming wrinkled from the now cold water, but the thought of getting out was just too hard to bare. I was so content… maybe I should have drowned myself.
Before I could comprehend what was going on I heard a final bang on the door, the lock snapped and the old hag stood in the now broken doorway and fixed her tight skirt. Great, I forgot about the strength werewolves possessed.
She gasped immediately as she looked at my wrinkled form still sat in the water. She turned to the shower quickly and flipped it on before storming over to me, grabbing my left arm and dragging it out of the bath.
“His grace will be up here in less than 20 minutes and you aren’t even washed properly.” She threw me into the shower and slammed the door closed. “Get washed, the girls will prepare your beautification.” My beautification? Where the fuck has she been the past 100 years.
Either way, she left absolutely no room for arguments and stayed staring at my naked form with pure hatred. in her irises. So I quickly washed my hair, and lathered some soap over my body, rinsing it all off before
stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around my body. I was grabbed once again and marched to the bedroom of my nightmares where I was once more subjected to a full body waxing, and a small haircut. My hair was left dry and naturally wavy, while my royal dresser placed a very see through red undergarment dress and a thong which looked like a piece of string on the end of the bed.
“Get dressed now! His grace is already in his room. Once again there was no room of arguments as she left the room, my bedroom door was slammed closed and I sighed relishing in the quiet. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I ended up just staring at the bed for a good 5 minutes. Banging on the door brought me out of my inner spiral and with a thick gulp, I slipped the undergarment on, and sat on the end the of my bed. My sight never leaving the floor.
I had absolutely no intention of looking at myself in the mirror again. I hated clothes like this. Men never dressed up for women in bed, and yet, here I was, basically a wrapped present that was just waiting to be ripped open and played with. It made me sick!!
He locked me up for a month, I was starving, I was beaten and most of all I was on my way to becoming
completely broken, and he expected me to accept him? What a joke, I knew, I knew what he was about to do to me, especially looking at my attire, he had every intention of taking me yet again.
I actually think my protests help get him off. I think he enjoys taking everything from me, I know he wants me to be his and his alone, but he enjoys hurting me, he enjoys raping me, and that just makes him even more Tesick.
So far I had somehow managed to somehow superglue the cracks he had caused in me together, but even the glue wasn’t holding anymore, I’m just waiting for the day that I shatter into a million pieces, unable to be fixed.
My door once again opened and the old hag barged in. She took one look at me sat on my bed and nodded, roughly grabbing my upper arm again and dragging me to my still bare feet. On the way out some stupid perfume was sprayed onto me then I was marched to the kings door.
The old woman knocked on the door before opening it and shoving me in at the kings request to enter. The door then slammed behind me and I took the room in.
His bed was huge, the sheets a pure silk as they neatly rested on his large mattress. The king was dressed in a simple pair of boxer shorts, and a silk unbuttoned black bed shirt rested over his shoulders. If he wasn’t such a possessive, intolerable, abusive ass hole, I would have even said he was good looking. In his hand lay a small whiskey glass that was half filled with the alcoholic substance and half filled with ice.
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