Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 341: Kiss of Death

Chapter 341: Kiss of Death

"Alistair, stop! You’re hurting me!" She cried out as she felt his teeth pierce through the tender skin of her neck. The moment his teeth punctured through, a sharp pain rushed through Hazelle’s body. She struggled, but it was futile― Alistair seemed stronger than ever.

He clasped onto her, his newly grown hand suddenly gaining the strength of ten men. His grip was like steel, keeping her firmly in place no matter how much she protested and yelled.

Hazelle twisted and turned her body, trying to worm her way out of Alistair’s hold. However, his teeth remained lodged in her. She could feel her head getting light and there was also the unmistakable smell of blood that was starting to fill the air.

No way... He actually drew blood!

"What the hell are you doing? Get off of me!"

With a screech, Hazelle gathered all of her energy just to pull Alistair off. She miraculously succeeded this time, causing Alistair to stumble back as his teeth ripped off a chunk of her flesh due to the sudden motion.

Hazelle reached up and grabbed at her neck― thankfully, he hadn’t found any major artery, if not, she would no doubt be dead already. However, there was still a warm sticky feeling on her fingers when she touched the wound. When Hazelle looked down, she was met with a sea of red.

Blood. It was all her blood.

The pain only set in after the horror and realization did. Her flesh — or whatever was left of it — was red and tender. Blood coated her fingers and dripped down her shoulders, trickling to her elbows and dyeing the sheets red.

Her breath trembled and her vision blurred, panic washing over her. The wound seared and prickled, a pain so intense that even her screams of terror didn’t help to relieve it by any bit.

Alistair, who had stumbled back, slowly got a steady foothold again. His shoulders were slouched and his head was drooping. At no point did Hazelle’s screams cause him to even look up. In fact, he hadn’t even screamed at her like he usually would’ve.

Instead, he paused, kneeling at the edge of the bed while his body was turned to face Hazelle. He simply stayed still in silence as she screamed her throat hoarse, trying to find something that could stop the bleeding.

"What have you done?!" she yelled, using the blankets to press against the wound.

However, her blood merely seeped through and into the fabric, turning it scarlet within seconds. She wasn’t even sure how that happened and how she had so much blood to spare.

Evidently not enough, though, as she was getting even dizzier than before. She had to get out to the healers’ room if she was to survive.

Hazelle glared hotly at Alistair, her fear masked by anger and pain. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she crawled up, annoyed and indignant at how her husband tore through her meat as though he were a starving beast. Adding on to the fact that Alistair had surprisingly not screamed at her for spoiling his fun, her courage grew.

She hopped off the bed, still pressing her hand tightly against her neck. While her own touch caused her skin to sting, she couldn’t afford to care. Immediate medical attention was more important.

If they were still hovering over that damned Daphne and refused to see her, she would kick the door down. It didn’t matter if King Atticus had her head for doing so― she would die for sure if she didn’t anyway.

Might as well die on her own terms.

She grabbed some of her clothes from the ground and quickly tossed them on. They were haphazardly worn and if anyone had seen her in this state, they would no doubt turn their noses up at her lack of decorum. However, that was the least of Hazelle’s worries right now.

There was nothing more important than getting out of here, far away from Alistair.

Her fingers had barely even brushed against the cold metal of the doorknob before Hazelle was suddenly forcefully pulled back by the hair on her head. She yelped, her hands immediately leaving the door to grab at her scalp, holding her hair back so that it didn’t rip her skin clean off her skull.

"Where do you think you’re going?!" Alistair growled. His silence from before only added to his fury at this moment.

With a sharp tug, he yanked her back, causing Hazelle to lose her balance as she collapsed onto the ground. Her tailbone slammed harshly against the ground, causing her to hiss out in pain. Everything had been added on, one on top of the other, and Hazelle felt as though her body was quickly breaking down.

"Let go of me!" she yelled.

"Let go of you?" Alistair echoed. His hand remained firmly around the strands of her hair. Yet, he moved forward so that he could meet her face to face.

At the sight of her husband, Hazelle sharply gasped in shock.

Instead of the usual blue, Alistair’s irises were now a deep ruby color. The white of his eyes, on the other hand, was black like the void, with yellowish gold pupils. Black veins ran from his eyes down to his cheekbones, contrasting sharply against his unusually pale skin.

Hazelle had never seen demons before but she imagined if they existed, they would look just like this.

When Alistair noticed the fear that was written clearly across Hazelle’s face, his lips curved into a cruel grin. That was when Hazelle realized how Alistair’s teeth had managed to puncture her skin so easily― his canines had elongated and were now lethally sharp at their tips. They resembled a pair of fangs from the mouth of a predator rather than an ordinary human.

Alistair’s tongue ran across his new set of teeth, his eerie eyes trailing after Hazelle’s frightened gaze. The more she paled, the more he seemed to revel in it.

"Don’t look so scared, my dear wife," he said. "Our fun hasn’t ended yet."

His voice, Hazelle noted, no longer sounded like his own. It was much deeper than usual and had an odd resonance to it.

She shook her head, trying to move back but was quickly pulled forward and back into place by Alistair, who still held onto her hair tightly.

"No... No, please..." Tears started to brim in her eyes as panic rose in her chest. She felt as though her heart was stuck in her throat― she couldn’t breathe no matter how much she panted. "Please, let me go!"

"But I am absolutely starved," Alistair said, pouting a little. "And you seem awfully delicious."

The apples of her cheeks were already tear-stricken. Hazelle choked on her sobs, practically bawling as she tried to sprint for the door. Yet, every try she made at getting up was only quickly stamped down by Alistair. He was playing with his food, a behavior that Hazelle realized a little too late.

She hadn’t even realized that she was now prey, and he, her predator.

Alistair leaned forward, rubbing the tip of his nose down Hazelle’s neck, causing goosebumps to rise across her skin. When his lips neared the wound he had previously caused, his tongue darted out, licking the area as Hazelle shuddered.

Wetness pooled between her legs. However, it wasn’t the nectar of an aroused woman. The fright had caused Hazelle to wet herself, the pungent smell of urine filling the air of the room.

"You taste so good..." Alistair murmured against her neck, his words sensual. However, what would’ve been words Hazelle wished to hear on any other day were suddenly words that caused her to cry even harder.

"No... No!"

With his claws digging into the flesh of her arms, Alistair held Hazelle in place before he sunk his fangs right into the open wound. The duchess’s voice tore through the palace, resonating down the corridors, and bouncing off the walls.

However, by the time someone came over to check, Alistair was long gone.

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