Madeline's eyes were still fixed on him, but then her mind seemed to have traveled elsewhere. This was the man she would be presenting her work to, the person who would be buying from her and possibly helping her family out. Yet, she feared him?
Her father had trusted her enough to come here, and her whole family was relying on her. Yet she could not even face the king. 'This isn't you, Madeline,' her inner being screamed at her. What was she even doing falling for Sebastian? This wasn't her at all. Why was she so caught up? Why had she been unfocused? She came here for business and only business.
She took a deep breath; it seems the fresh night breeze swept past her, calming her mind. Then she faced the king with a calmness that shocked him and surprised even her. "I do not fear you, my king. I am yet to know you, so you must have confused that as fearing you. I was merely curious about you, about who my buyer is and why he has decided to patronize us after years of sitting on the throne," she finished, her heart beating, her inner mind now scolding her for speaking such words.
But Madeline cared the least; she was so fed up with all this rollercoaster feeling, and she really wanted to know why he took the king to only notice them now.
The corridor was filled with a silence that engulfed them both, neither ready to say a word. Draven was smitten by her words, by her boldness, while Madeline was flared with anger to care if this was proper, to speak to the king in such mannerism.
"We worked so hard, my father and I, and we were well known. Would you say, my king, that you have not heard of us?" she asked boldly. Now that she faced him and let these words out, she realized there was nothing to be scared of, he was just a mere human being.
Draven saw where this was going, and he didn't like it. He made a mistake by asking her why she feared him. Now she was coming out way too bold and asking him questions he didn't want to answer. But he had to say something to let this pass.
"I only needed weapons now," came his reply.
Madeline narrowed her eyes. Sure, he only needed weapons now. Which country would stay for two whole years without needing weapons? She couldn't let go of that feeling that the king might have a motive behind all of this.
"The dress. The carriage," she spoke after a long gulp. She should shut her mouth. What if the king decided not to buy from her again? Then her family would go back to square one, eating twice or once a day. Instead of anger greeting her, she saw him sigh, his face calm.
"I don't think I have to answer that... yet," he drawled the last of his words.
Madeline nodded. She had already said so much in a short span of time. He could explain this later, and besides, she wasn't ready for his answer either. What if it was exactly as her mother had said? What if the king had an interest in her? She shook her head. There was no way this man with such coldness would want that. But then, why had he sent the dress?
"Go and rest, Madeline. You have a long day tomorrow," the king winked at her.
Despite the questions she was beginning to ask him, he didn't know how long he would stay sane being this close to her.
Madeline nodded and turned away quickly. She couldn't afford to be in the same space with him.
As she began walking away, she felt his gaze on her but she refused to turn around, not wanting to face that coldness again. At least she had enough time to process all of her thoughts before she met him again tomorrow. By then, she would forget that this conversation ever happened. But the good thing was she would now face him with a burning flame—a determination that wouldn't extinguish until he bought from her or explained why he was giving her this special treatment.
Draven entered his room and slammed the door behind him with a loud thud. He then smacked his fist against the wall repeatedly, his breath coming out raspy with every hard blow meeting the stone wall.
Why had he sent the carriage? Why had he sent the dress? Sebastian's idea was all it took for him to treat her this way, so she would make her accept his request. But the look in her eyes, the sudden boldness she exhibited, scared him.
He realized just now that they might both be wrong. Madeline was not one to easily fall for tricks; she was as business-minded as she looked. He must try as hard as he can to convince her, no matter what it took, to accept his request.
When the clock struck midnight, Draven's eyes turned red as he gazed at the half moon through his balcony. It was happening again. His hunger was igniting, and if he didn't find a way to quench it as soon as possible, his powers would weaken, bringing him closer to death.
Usually, a sip of blood from his cup in a day would suffice, but not anymore. Now he would have to drink blood every midnight, enough to suck the life out of his prey before he would be satisfied.
He jumped from his balcony to hers; her door was wide open, and the curtain swayed from the night breeze. Her lights were still on, illuminating her as she slept on the bed, covered with a white sheet, her hair spread out.
The sight alone caused his fangs to shoot out, every fiber in him urging to enter her room and pierce his fangs into her neck, but he held back, gripping the door tightly. No, he would kill her if he bared his fangs.
The beast in him roared, wanting to go to her, to his savior, and have her blood, but he knew he would kill her.
Draven staggered back, his legs giving way, growing weak as he fell to his knees. Sweat glistened on his skin, his breath coming out raspy. He would have to hunt for food; all this while, blood had been given to him, but it was never enough, and this hunger grew more intense at the sight of her.
Tears fell from his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away. He would have to hunt this night. With that, he jumped off the balcony and ran into the thick forest.