"O-owner?" she stuttered, her voice barely a whisper, her mind reeling from the man's accusations and the weight of his presence.
Her heart pounded in her chest, fear mingling with confusion.
The word echoed in her mind, twisting and turning, seeking understanding.
His eyes narrowed, a predatory glint flashing as a cruel smile curved his lips.
He moved his fingers to her neck, tracing the now healed bites and scars. "You're even lower than I thought," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
Eiravyne shuddered at his touch, the memories of her captivity and torment surfacing with each cruel caress.
"Look at you," he continued, his eyes cold and unforgiving.
Her throat tightened, and she fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill.
His hand slid lower, tracing the line of her collarbone before moving down to her chest.
He paused, his fingers lingering just above her heart, the touch both intimate and terrifying.
Eiravyne's breath hitched, her skin crawling with revulsion.
"Such a fragile little thing," he murmured, his voice a dark whisper.
Eiravyne's vision blurred as the pressure on her chest increased.
Desperation clawed at her, but she refused to succumb to the darkness.
With a final burst of strength, she wrenched herself free from his grasp, stumbling back and clutching her neck.
"S-stay away from me," she choked out, her voice raw with fear and anger.
He watched her, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "You can try to resist, but it will only make things worse for you. Remember, Sangrever, you are mine now. "
"Why do you keep calling me that?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
The man's eyes narrowed, a sinister smile playing on his lips.
"You really don't know, do you? Poor little Sangrever, so lost and unaware."
Eiravyne felt a chill run down her spine. The term "Sangrever" had been thrown at her by everyone, even her father, and the weight of it terrified her.
She needed to understand why it haunted her so.
"My father called me that too," she said, her voice trembling. "What does it mean?"
He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face in a gesture that felt disturbingly intimate.
His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of her jaw before gripping her chin firmly, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"..your father ! huh ! ...pathetic ....well Eiravyne...It means you are a being of blood," he said, his voice low and menacing. "A creature with a power that most can only dream of. Your blood is potent, and it makes you valuable. Dangerous. But it also makes you a target."
Eiravyne's heart pounded in her chest. "A target for what?"
"For those who seek power," he replied, his grip tightening just enough to make her wince. "For those who would use you, drain you, and cast you aside. You are a Sangrever, Eiravyne, and that means you belong to whoever is strong enough to claim you."
Her mind spun with the revelation, the pieces of her past falling into place with horrifying clarity. "So that's why... my family..."
He nodded, his smile never faltering. "Yes. Your family's demise was just the beginning. And now, you are mine."
Eiravyne felt a surge of defiance welling up within her. She refused to accept this fate.
"No," she said, her voice stronger than before. "I won't let you control me. I won't let anyone control me."
He chuckled darkly, releasing her chin and stepping back. "We'll see about that, little Sangrever. We'll see."
"So... why... why all my family... wouldn't they be valuable like me?" she asked, stuttering.
He laughed sarcastically, a cruel sound that echoed off the walls.
Stepping closer, he pinched her cheek roughly, making her wince. "You're fucking clueless," he sneered. "Do you think you're truly a Verenth?"
Eiravyne's eyes widened in shock. "W-what do you mean?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
His grip on her cheek tightened, forcing her to look directly at him.
"Your family, the Verenths, were powerful, yes. But they were also cautious, secretive. They knew the truth about you, the truth they hid from the world and even from you."
Eiravyne's mind reeled, her thoughts racing. "What truth?"
He released her cheek, letting his hand trail down to her neck, his fingers lingering on the healed scars.
"The truth that you are not truly one of them. They took you in, raised you, but you were never their blood. You are a Sangrever, and that makes you unique. Your power is far greater, far more dangerous than theirs ever was."
She felt a wave of nausea wash over her, the revelation hitting her like a punch to the gut. "So... they kept me... because of my power?"
He nodded, his expression dark and unreadable. "Yes. They hoped to control it, to use it for their own ends….until the Romani family took you ..."
Eiravyne struggled to process the information, her heart aching with the betrayal. "So they …indeed..died because of me?"
"Is there something wrong with you? I am telling you they took you and raised you to use you, and you say this?" he said sarcastically, his eyes glinting with mockery.
Eiravyne's mind raced, struggling to reconcile the revelations with her memories of her family.
She felt a surge of anger mixed with confusion. "Why would they do that?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "Why would they lie to me?"
His grip on her arm tightened again, his fingers digging into her skin.
"Because you were their key to power," he snarled. "They saw what you could become and wanted to harness it for their own gain. They never loved you. They only saw you as a tool, a means to an end."
Tears welled up in Eiravyne's eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let him see her cry.
"No," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "That can't be true."
Deep down...Eiravyne knew that he was aying the truth ...that explains her abusive acts ...but to confirm it to a stranger only would show her as a pathetic person and she didn't want that..
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear.
"Oh, but it is true, little Sangrever. They used you, just like I will. But unlike them, I won't hide the truth from you. You are mine now, and you will learn to accept it."