Esmerelda

Six

Sirus POV

⚠️FLASHBACK ⚠️

"My Lord!"
"Your Highness!"

Loud knocking awoken me from my short slumber. The smell of fear wafted to my nose as I slowly sat up. My eyes searched the left side of my bed, searching for my mate. I knew she was not there, but my lycan needed to know. Her scent was not feint now, and we had resorted in stealing articles of her clothing to sate our needs of her scent.

The obnoxious knocking continued and I quickly rushed towards the door, thinking it had to be her or Fiona that caused the maids to become frantic.

I swung open the door to see two maids sobbing hysterically. "The Queen!" One shook, "The Queen, your highness!"

An uncomfortable feeling sat within my chest. Had she finally succeeded in ending her life? She has talked about it often...it would make sense for her to finally do it, but that would mean that my guards failed me. And that would mean death would come to them.

"What is wrong with the Queen?"

"She killed my daughter!" One of them sobbed as she stumbled to the floor, the other grasping at the middle aged woman. Trying to help her stand up.

I bypassed the sobbing women and used my nose to find the source of this madness. My senses lead me to the sitting room where she often occupied herself with drinking tea and cursing people.

My mate stood at the castle window. Her hair pulled back as expensive gems glimmered in the dark threads of her hair. A large fur adorned her shoulders, and an expensive violet fabric wrapped around her devilish body.

At the stench of blood my eyes wandered over to a lifeless body near a table filled with teas and breads. Blood pooled at the young girls neck bleeding into the white carpet.

"Ophelia."

A long sigh left her lips, before she turned to look at me. Her harsh gaze raked over my form before she scoffed. "What do you want, Silas?"

I had learned to tune out her names for me. She never called me the name I was birthed with. She found excitement in wrongfully naming me. "Why did you kill this maid?" I questioned through clenched teeth. The maid looked familiar. She must have been no more than fifteen years of age. She always aided in the kitchen.

"That incapable little witch gave me bread and not fruits like I requested! It is bad enough my beautiful body is fat with your child, but to have me fattened with bread! I became irate and thirsty so I drank her blood," she smiled. I used to think a woman's smile was nothing but of joy from something pure, but her showing her glistening fangs was nothing but of hell.

"This is the third maid you have killed this month. It stops now, Ophelia!" I snarled at her as she gasped. She laid her hand over her heart in mock fear.

She then began to laugh, "Or what, Simon? What will you do? Send me back to my brother? Please do," she spat as she pushed over a few nearby books.

"I will never let you go, Ophelia. Never," I growled as I made my way over to her. What did she not understand? She was my mate. She wanted me. "You asked to come here, wife!"