The moment Freya looked away, Vladimiros peeked through the arm that had been resting lazily over his face. His sharp eyes caught hers, and the mischievous glint in them only grew brighter.
"Tell me, Freya," he drawled, his voice smooth yet filled with an unsettling curiosity. "How long have you been locked up in there?"
Freya stiffened at the question. She could feel his gaze like a weight on her, his eyes prying into her soul. She looked at him, her thoughts momentarily clouded by his sudden attention.
She stammered, the words coming out in a rushed, breathless whisper, "M-my lord... I've been in there since I was born... I'll say, because I started living in the west wing... all by myself... at a very young age."
Vladimiros let out a low chuckle, one that sent a shiver crawling up Freya's spine. "How sweet," he murmured, as though he found it amusing. He raised himself slightly, propping himself up on his elbow, then gave her a long, almost playful look. "A father keeping his own daughter captive... Are you really that worthless?"
Freya froze, the words hitting her like a slap. What is wrong with this man? Her mind raced. Did he propose to marry me just to mock me?
The thought lingered, leaving her heart in turmoil, but before she could voice her confusion, he rose from his lounging position with a fluid, almost predatory grace. He didn't wait for her to react; instead, he walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps.
Freya instinctively backed into the corner of the carriage, shrinking away from him, but his steps never faltered. He crouched down to meet her eyes, his towering presence casting a dark shadow over her. Without a word, he reached out, placing his hand on her cheek, his fingers cold against her skin.
Freya instinctively tried to move away, but his hand tightened, his grip firm and unyielding. Panic flared in her chest as she found herself pressed to the floor beneath him. His weight was like an anchor, and her breathing grew shallow with fear.
"You're so small," he mused, his voice cold and amused. "I could break you with one hand."
Freya's heart raced as she struggled beneath him. She could feel the strength in his grip, and it made her feel helpless, vulnerable. She squirmed, trying to escape, but it was no use.
He covered her face with his palm, his large hand engulfing her features. "I hope you won't break too soon, my little toy," he said softly, his tone tinged with something dark and dangerous. "Because if you do, you're going to regret it."
His smile sent a chill down her spine, but before she could react, her voice broke through, barely audible as she stammered, "I-I thought... I thought you wanted to marry me?"
Vladimiros let out a sudden burst of laughter, the sound sharp and cruel. He released his grip on her, pushing himself up with a lazy smile. "I only did that because I didn't want you to embarrass yourself," he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "But I like your fire."
Freya sat up, completely stunned. Her mind was spinning. "Then why are you taking me?" she demanded, her voice filled with fury. She couldn't understand this man, couldn't comprehend his motives.
Vladimiros' expression turned serious, his eyes dark and unreadable. He moved to stand in front of her, but she couldn't look him in the eyes—she was too busy staring at his chest, too angry to face him fully.
He gently lifted her chin with two fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Because I can take anyone I desire," he said calmly, his voice laced with arrogance and power.
Before Freya could retort, the sound of distant shouts reached them. "We're being attacked!"
Vladimiros' gaze darkened. Without a word, he turned toward the door, his movements sharp and swift. "Stay in here," he ordered coldly.
Freya's heart leapt into her throat. "What about Lylah?" she asked urgently, her voice rising with panic. "Is she safe?"
Vladimiros gave her a reassuring smile, though it was anything but comforting. "Don't worry. She's safe."
With a swift motion, he opened the carriage door and stepped outside. The door slammed shut with a loud bang behind him, leaving Freya alone in the silence. Her body trembled with fear, and she pressed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the horrifying sounds coming from the outside.
Screams echoed through the air, mingled with the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. Her pulse raced, and she squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in her knees as she tried to block out the terror.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as she huddled there, too frightened to move. When the screams finally died down, the carriage door creaked open once again.
Freya didn't dare to look up. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and her fear was too much to overcome.
Suddenly, she felt a presence crouch down beside her, and cold, long fingers lifted her chin. Freya gasped and looked up, her breath catching in her throat as she saw Vladimiros standing before her, covered in blood. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous, something dark.
He raised her chin with one hand, slamming the door shut with the other. The action sent a cold shiver down Freya's spine as she stared at him, frozen in place. He was covered in blood, and the sight made her stomach churn.
"Y-You..." she whispered, her voice trembling with shock. "You're a hybrid."
Before she could say anything more, Vladimiros pulled her roughly into his arms, holding her against his chest. Her body stiffened in shock as his cold lips brushed against her neck, and she gasped in confusion.
"What... what are you doing?" she stammered, trying to push against his chest, but he didn't budge. His strength was overwhelming, and she couldn't break free.
His lips moved slowly along her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "Shh," he murmured softly, a low growl of satisfaction escaping his throat. Then, without warning, his teeth sank into her neck.
Pain exploded through her body, and Freya cried out, struggling in his grip. He held her still, his arms like iron around her, as he drained her strength. Her vision blurred, and her body grew weak.
"Please..." she gasped weakly, her hands now powerless to push him away. "Why... why are you doing this?"
Vladimiros didn't answer. He continued to drain her, savoring every drop.
But then, as suddenly as it began, he pulled away. Freya let out a strangled gasp, barely able to breathe as she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.
"Why..." she whispered, barely audible, before her vision went black.
Vladimiros smiled down at her, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. "Wow..." he murmured softly, his tone full of admiration. "I've never tasted werewolf blood so good."
He watched her for a few moments, his gaze filled with fascination. Then, with a soft grunt, he carefully picked her up and cradled her in his arms.
He lay down on his back, pulling her close to him, her head resting on his chest as she slept, her breath steady but shallow. He stroked her hair gently, a strange possessive smile on his lips as he watched her sleep.