Reign of Blood

Chapter Six

How long have I been here?

With no windows, Chronos had no way of predicting the time. When he came to this time, he knew he must've been laying there for hours. His body was stiff, his joints aching.

At least he knew where he was this time. He knew what he was dealing with. He knew who he was dealing with. He reminded himself to be cautious of what she was. Chronos didn't want a mate, but their bond would still affect him. He didn't want it to alter his vision of her. Of her and her madness.

He couldn't let the bond between them alter what he'd set out to do. Killing the Queen was the right thing to do. Kill the Queen, end the war, do right by his people.

They were keeping him in a cell in Veneficus for the Queen. This was her castle, meaning she couldn't be too far away. That meant he could go through with his initial plan. It seemed as though they had him backed up in a corner, but this could be the best chance he'd ever get at laying waste to the blood Queen. She'd given him access—opportunity.

This time, when he awoke, he found himself shackled to the wall by silver chains. Where those manacles touched his wrists, he felt the burning. His age had him handling it, but that didn't mean it felt good. At least they'd put him on the bed—though that wasn't much better.

Nailed into the wall was a metal bed with a small, greyed pillow. There was no mattress and no quilt. One look at the pillow had Chronos deciding he'd rather not have one.

It had probably been down here since these cells had been made hundreds of years ago.

Hello head lice.

It hurt to breathe in. Comprehension. Somehow, those evil witches had made silver gas. When he breathed that shit in, it was like knives stabbing his lungs repeatedly until the pain got to be too much.

He'd blacked out. After that, the vampires must've dragged him back to the cell and shackled him.

Rage.

His chest lifted and fell with each heave.

His shirt had been torn at by the guards. It was already stained by the blood that had coated Annaliese. Now, there was more. His skin was doubtlessly splattered in blood, his hair in complete disarray.

Chronos didn't care what he looked like.

A small part of him- a teensy, tiny part of him- more so the beast than the man- cared a great deal for what she thought he looked like.

He heard the clatter of high heels upon the stone floor a mile away. He didn't need his senses to tell him who it was. The sudden silence of the other prisoners told him just as much. It was her. The bitch had come to rub it in.

He damned his senses to hell. As his mind was plotting her demise, his body was begging for her touch, the essence of his beast making a grasp for the surface.

The beast wanted to know her. The man wanted to finish this off.

"Your majesty," He heard from just down the way.

"How many dead?" She asked.

How could her voice be so lovely when everything about her was so dark?

She didn't deserve to live. Not after her crimes. Not after the things her kind had done.

Chronos would kill her quite happily. It would be killing two birds with one stone. Besides, he didn't see anyone queuing up to do it.

It was both admirable and admonishable that such a young immortal had garnered such universal fear.