That Prince Is A Girl The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate by Kiss Leilani

Chapter 718:

He had not satisfied Sexlust in over four months, yet his female believed he was still bedding his bloodhost. Because of that belief, there was a sadness in Emeriel’s eyes that never quite left, no matter how bright her smile and how much love shone in her blue eyes.

Tonight, as on so many nights, he was expected to visit Sinai first, then return to her chamber and hold her while she slept. Whenever Emeriel thought he’d fallen asleep, she let her muffled cries spill.

It hurt Daemonikai immensely that she was going through this pregnancy sad, but they had gotten to a point where he had no idea what to do.

She did not know he’d not touched another female. That the feral episodes still came. Only Vladya and Ottai knew, and only they helped with the measures Daemonikai had taken.

When Daemonikai felt the signs, he went willingly to Blackstone’s deepest underground chamber. There, Vladya bound him in chains of reinforced iron laced with toxins, and the fortified doors were locked. He remained there for twenty-four hours until the storm passed.

As far as his people were concerned, their king was whole again. His mind clear as the first light of dawn. As far as Emeriel was concerned, his madness was controlled, because he was satisfying all his basic instincts. Deceptions he wore like a crown of thorns.

male hurried forward to take it from her, protective of her as so many had become

turned inside

to be for you? Why does she bestow it so freely on some

arm of his throne,

long, lonely nights. The Voice turned conspiratorial. Why not stop playing the righteous king and take what you want? Hold her

the tables. Past the highborn guests. Past the celebrating crowds. Ignoring the startled glances following him.

his way behind the gardens, where no prying eyes could follow. There, out of sight, he leaned hard against the nearest wall and drove his forehead into it. Growling and snarling, he breathed noisily as his

pain dulled the Voice, driving it back into the recesses of his mind. It rarely got this bad, but when it did, it

caught him, sliding between his

“Stop. Stop, Daemon.”

through his fury and the pounding in

started laughing. Low, bitter, harsh, blood trickling down from his brow, hot against his skin. I really hit rock bottom