85

The following morning Regan found herself laying in the cosy bed, the soft orange glow of sunlight resting on her face. The whole chamber was bathed in sunlight and for a moment it felt as if she was in bliss, ethereal and pure.

But it was short. The unsettling thoughts washed on her again. And the worst, when she looked at her side, the space was empty. Her mother wasn't there.

A wave of alarm and fear coursed through her veins. Regan slipped hastily from the bed.

"Mom?" she called, her voice shaky and uncertain. She went to check inside the bathroom, but Octavia wasn't there. She ran a hand through her hair, her heart pounding like a drum.

She turned back to the doors and rushed to them. As soon as she opened them, the cold breeze of the morning kissed her face and exposed chest.

Her mind was a blur of fear and confusion and just when she was about to turn right, she bumped to a strong, tall wall, a wall that was no other than him.

Regan's heart skipped a beat as she realized who was really there. He was looking down at her with an unreadable expression. She remembered the last time she saw him, what he was about to do and she felt the knots on her stomach grow tighter. He had tried to kiss her and she had slept on fear the whole night.

"Good morning, love," Sirius smirked, his blue eyes shining with amusement. Regan stepped back, trembling slightly under his hawk-like gaze. He looked handsome as ever, his hair was half wet and messy, the midnight bangs dancing over his eyelashes. He was clad in a regal attire, his presence emanating power and authority.

And then the realization hit Regan like a punch on the stomach. She was wearing a nightgown that showed her chest. Immediately, her hand reached up to try and tug the fabric at her chest but it was the worst she did. His gaze followed her hand's movement, but then, thankfully rested back on her face. At least he wasn't being a creep. But she still felt terribly exposed. How did she forget she was wearing a nightgown?

"Get the hell away from me!" she snapped, backing away. "Where's my mother?! What have you done to her?" she yelled, trying to sound braver than she felt. Because inside and outside she was trembling.

"Woah, calm down, Princess," he teased, taking a step closer. "I don't know where she is."

Regan took steps back, hearing her own erratic heartbeat and blood pounding in her ears. "Don't you dare come any closer!" she warned, her voice shaking with fear.

Sirius chuckled, clearly amused. "Fine, your mother's fine. And she knows I'm here. You trust your mother's judgement, don't you?" He continued to step closer, and Regan knew that she was ending inside the chamber, her panic and anxiety palpable.

"S-stay away from me!" she shouted, her voice breaking. She tried to cover her chest and cursed herself for wearing that nightgown. She felt so vulnerable, so exposed. His presence was unsettling and she didn't want it to end that way. She didn't want to end up as his slave or concubine. 

And the faster she backed away, the faster he closed in. She felt like a prey, being enclosed by its predator. But little did she know, she was anything but a prey to him.

The quick backward steps she was making made her stumble to the vanity table, and a bottle of perfume fell on the uncarpeted floor, shattering with a hiss.

Regan flinched, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She hated herself for being so scared, but she couldn't help it. "Why are you d-doing this?" she stuttered, her voice small.

He didn't answer. Just looked down at the broken perfume on the floor, watching how the liquid made a small puddle with a careless expression. The rosy scent filled the room, making the very air intoxicating.

His gaze returned to her again and he stepped even closer, making her back hit the wall. And when she hit that wall, there she grew extremely panicked. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. But she could act. Before he could fully trap her, she attempted to hit him with a fireball.

But Sirius wasn't that foolish. He knew she was scared, and he didn't want to hurt her. So, he simply moved to the side, letting her spell miss him. 

"I'm not here to fight, princess." He placed both his hands on the wall on either side of her head, trapping her between them. Regan's heart was pounding against her ribcage, her lungs burning for air.

She avoided his gaze completely, lowered her head, letting her hair cover her face. But then, she looked down at her nightgown, at her exposed chest, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She didn't want to be angry at her mother, she was angry at herself for being such an idiot to walk out in this.

But he didn't really seem to care about what she was wearing. He seemed out of breath himself, as if he was battling something else entirely. He removed his one hand from the wall and ran a hand through his messy hair. Then, he leaned on his elbow, lowering his head so low, since he was so much taller than her. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

"Regan, look at me," he suddenly demanded, his voice rough, but also filled with a strange sense of desperation.

But she didn't look at him, she didn't want to look at him, she looked at her side, admiring the stained window. It was ridiculous, but it was the only thing she could do.

He gripped her chin with his gloved hand, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make her look at him. His eyes were piercing, searching, and she felt like she was drowning into a deep icy water. She darted her eyes away, not wanting to look at him. His thumb traced her lower lip and her anxiety only grew, making her squirm.

"Look at me, kitten," he whispered, using the nickname that made her mad before but now, somehow, it didn't. "I'm not here for what you think I am. Just calm down, okay?" His thumb brushed against her lower lip again, so gently it almost tickled. But somehow, it felt right, like he was reassuring her.

But little did that calm her down. Why was he doing that? She couldn't stop her mind from going crazy, from thinking the worst.

"Don't be scared, my sweet," Sirius said, his gentle voice making Regan even more wary and scared. His thumb went to her temple and massaged it, as if to soothe away her fear and tension. 

But Regan finally found the strength to glare up at him and snap his hand away from her face. He didn't do anything, he simply stared at her.

"Get your hands off me!" she yelled, the anger and confusion in her eyes evident.

He didn't flinch a bit, "You're going to listen to me. I've had enough of this ignorance and stupidity." His words were harsh, but his eyes weren't. She could see the pain and frustration in them.

"I don't want to listen to you!" she retorted, "I want my mother!" she demanded, the familiar tears threatening to spill over. But he didn't seem to care about that, and he leaned in even closer, his face only inches away from hers.

"Your mother is fine. Unless you decide to play some useless, stupid games, she's safe," he said. His thumb went back to trace her bottom lip gently. It wasn't a sexual gesture, it was... comforting. But she was too paranoid and angry to see it as such. "I.... you're going to listen to me, once," he added, his tone strange, almost pleading.

"What will I listen? That if I don't obey you, you'll hurt my mother?" Regan spat venomously, her blue eyes filled with a fiery light. She was trapped against the cold wall and her back ached from that wound and the cold, but she couldn't move. He was so close and his scent was filling her nose.

"No, my love," he said gently, shaking his head. Regan's breath caught on her throat at his endearment. "Not that. I have to say that I...." He trailed off, his throat tightening. He couldn't believe how she made him feel so awkward, so embarrassed. He darted his eyes away and Regan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Was he embarrassed?

She wasn't going to ask that. She was humiliated herself. She was still glaring at him, waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, as if trying to calm himself down. He looked kind of tired. She couldn't help but wonder what was going on.

"I...," he started, his voice raspy, "You're...."

"What?" she snapped, not trusting him a bit.

He looked down at her, his eyes meeting hers. There was a strange mix of sadness, determination and tenderness in his gaze.

"I....I.... you're mine."

The words weren't foreign but the way he said them was. Regan's eyes widened at what she heard. Was he doing all that to say such words? The thought made her even angrier. 

"You're such a bastard," she hissed through gritted teeth, and slapped him across the face with all her strength. He didn't even flinch, so she didn't feel any small or big victory. She glared at him, her hand clenched into a fist, ready to hit him again if he didn't do anything.

But he did move, he leaned in again, his face inches away from hers, his breath tickling her skin. 

"I am a bastard," he agreed, his voice barely a whisper, "but I'm your bastard, kitten."

Her anger intensified even more at his words, at his audacity to say them. She knew he had been thinking about this for a long time. And she couldn't help but try to slap him again. This time, his hand caught hers, gently, and he held it against his chest. "Don't," he whispered. "Please, don't."

Regan looked at her hand, feeling his rapid heartbeats. He was so strong, so imposing. How could he stay so calm when his heart was beating like this? How could he be so gentle when he was a criminal, a cruel ruler, a demon? It didn't make sense.

"You think I've been the one haunting you, yes it's true," he began once more, no malice or mockery in his voice. Just a strange desperation that seemed like torture. "But you've also haunted me, poisoned my heart, my soul and my mind. You make my heart bloom. You're like a rose, my love. Beautiful, but with thorns. And I can't help but want to hold you, even if I bleed."

Regan's mind raced at his words with a mix of fear and cynicism. And as every other time, her self-preservation instincts kicked in. She couldn't believe he called her a rose, something she hated, and that he said he wanted to hold her. She was scared and thrilled at the same time, but she wasn't going to admit that. She snatched her hand away, feeling a sting of pain as his grip was released.

"Get out," she spat through gritted teeth, "You're a liar, a criminal, and a monster. You're not worth it!"

Sirius's chest tightened but he remained stoic, "That won't make me leave," he retorted, his eyes intense. "You're mine," his voice was now a low growl, so sure of it, full of possessiveness.

But she wasn't having it. With a strength she didn't expect coming, she shoved him off her and he stumbled backward a few steps. Regan took advantage of the distance between them and darted past him, trying to race out of the room and find her mother.

He quickly gained composure and grabbed her arm, pulling her so she faced him. His expression was still intense, his eyes boring into hers. "You better change your clothes. You're in a nightgown," he growled. The words stung her, and she felt herself drown even deeper in shame and embarrassment. He was right, and she loathed herself for it.

"Get the hell out of here then!" she said, trying to pull her arm free from his grip. He held on, his grip firm but not painful.

"Fine," he said, sounding anything but content. As if she cared! He left her arm and walked past her, heading to the door. Before leaving, he spoke again, "You don't have much time. If you're not downstairs, I'll come get you myself." His voice was cold and commanding, but there was a hint of regret in his eyes.

Regan turned away from him, her face burning. She loathed the way her nightgown clung and showed her chest. She hated that he had seen her like this. He slammed the door shut and she felt tears stain her cheeks. She didn't want to think at all about what he had said because she was scared of facing whatever he meant. She wanted to talk to her mother as soon as possible.

Inside the wardrobe, there were only dresses, long dresses yes. But they had low necklines and would show her chest, like she was some sort of concubine. She felt used.

She couldn't find anything else. Panic rose inside her as she thought about what he would do if she didn't come downstairs. She searched more into the wardrobe, desperate for some sort of solution. 

But there was nothing she liked. With a heavy sight, she grabbed a light blue dress that reached down her legs. It was off shoulder, so she could manage for the chest part. 

After Regan wore it, she saw that it wasn't as bad as she thought. It was perfectly her size, flowed around her and it was more prettier than she had expected. As for shoes, she decided to wear some blue high heels because her boots were nowhere to be found.

She glanced at the door, feeling a sense of dread in her stomach. She couldn't believe how her mother left her in the chamber alone with him. But maybe he had threatened her. She took a deep breath and then walked out of the room. The hallway was empty, with a chilling silence. She spotted some stairs and followed them, eventually being greeted by the grandeur of the dining room.

Her hands began to fidget with each other, nervousness washing over her as she saw him sitting at the head of the table, his posture regal and commanding. His eyes shone bright when he saw her, that mischievous smirk curling on his lips.

But the weirdest thing, her mother was also there, sitting some seats away from him with a cool expression. And his general was also present, standing at the side of the room stoically. What was even stranger, the witches weren't there. Why? Weren't they his allies?

She walked over to her mother, sitting down next to her. But as soon as she sat, she felt like an idiot under his penetrating gaze. His eyes were so intense, it was like he could see straight to her soul. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she looked away.

The foods were just there but she couldn't eat anything. Not with him here. Octavia placed a hand over hers, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Regan looked at her mother with a mix of frustration and fear. How could she had let her alone with that... that... monster?

Suddenly, Sirius rose from his chair, his expression unreadable. He just walked away, just like that. Vlad followed him. Regan realized she had been holding her breath. She was glad he left, and hoped he'd not appear again.

She couldn't resist demanding answers from her mother, "Mom where were you?" she asked, her voice low and desperate, "Do you know what he did? Do you know how....how I felt?"

Octavia looked at her with a mix of sadness and affection, "Yes sweetie. I know, he was in your room."

Regan's eyes widened. She had hoped her mother didn't know, that he had lied about it. But Octavia knew and she was so calm. She couldn't believe her mother would even let him. "He-he touched me and I was wearing a-a nightgown. You should have heard what he said to me, mom!"

Octavia's eyes turned full of concern, "What? He touched you inappropriately?" she hissed, her voice barely a whisper.

Regan's stomach twisted, "No!" she replied hastily, "But he said 'y-you're mine' and he-he was so close. And then I slapped him."

Octavia's expression didn't ease but she didn't say anything for a while. Then she pulled her into a tight hug, "We have to be smart, Ylor. And you should ignore him for now. We should buy us some time." Her words stung like a slap, and Regan felt tears prickle at her eyes. She knew her mother didn't have any better choices, and he had probably threatened her, but she was still frustrated.

It felt like her mother was just accepting their situation. Regan didn't want to stay in that castle. She wanted to go back to Earth at least, and live a normal life with her mother.

He turned back and Regan cursed under her breath. He just sat there for a while, lost in thought, casually toying with his food as he eyed them both. It was obvious he was enjoying this game, whatever it was. She could feel his presence, his aura, like a heavy weight on her chest. She hated it. Loathed him. And even with that, she wondered if he even ate, if he even slept. She had never seen him eat, or show any real signs of exhaustion. How so?

But then, curiosity started to get the better of her. Where were the witches? Where was Vesper? Wasn't she his mistress, his closest ally? She couldn't help but wonder if something had happened between them. He hadn't said a word since she had been sitting.

"So, where are your lovers?"

The question was sharp, rude, and unexpected. He seemed off guard for a moment, but then his smirk returned, making him look amused. "My lovers?" he repeated, as if he had forgotten the meaning of the word. "I have only one and she's already on this table."

Regan's blood ran cold at his response. Because she and her mother were the only women on the table and he meant one of them. But which one? Her blood boiled at both thoughts. Of course he didn't mean her mother.

"Watch your tongue," Regan snapped through gritted teeth, her jaw clenching tightly, "You think you've got some dark humor and now you're fooling around with me?" her voice was sharp with rage.

But Sirius only chuckled, "You take things too personally, Princess. Why are you so pressed?" His smirk widened into a mocking grin, "I never said you were my lover."

His words made her even angrier and she wanted to stand up from her chair, lunge at him and slap that smirk from his face. But she knew it wouldn't solve anything. He'd still turn it to his advantage.

"And what did you say? You said that your lover is on this damn table!" Regan retorted, slamming her fist on the table istead.

"Ah, I see I struck a nerve. My apologies. I shouldn't have denied it, my love." Sirius casually replied, his voice calm and collected, although there was still amusement in his eyes.

"Sirius, that's enough," Octavia interrupted, "Leave my daughter alone." Her voice was hard and firm.

Sirius chuckled, twirling the glass of wine in his hand, "Ylor started it," he teased.

"You've made your point. Now, shut up and mind your own business." Octavia's tone brooked no argument.

Regan was grateful for her mother's intervention, but still, her blood boiled at his remarks. And the worst was that she even fancied his words about her being his lover. The thought disgusted her but another part of her felt a strange longing. What if they wouldn't be enemies? What if he really meant it?

"Damnit," she cursed under her breath, wishing she could punch something.

"What happened, firefly? Did you bite your tongue?" Sirius drawled sarcastically. "You seem to be struggling with something." He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, studying her intently.

She didn't answer, standing up abruptly instead. Then, she shoved the chair away and left on her heel, without saying anything. The general was still standing there and Sirius exchanged knowing looks with him. 

Octavia's eyes followed her daughter, her expression filled with worry and anger.

Then, she looked at Sirius, narrowing her eyes.

"Now, what was that? Leave my daughter alone. She's not that interested in you," she said, her voice angry and frustrated. She didn't wait for his response because she stood up and followed Regan as well.

Sirius smiled as she left, "Yes, she's not interested in me. She's head over heels for me," he murmured to himself. "And so am I for her."

Then, he noticed that Vlad was still there, his expression stoic and unreadable, although there was a hint of awe as well.

"Keep a close eye on them. If she escapes again, I'll hold you responsible," Sirius ordered, his voice cold and hard.

"Of course, my lord. I'll make sure they stay where you want," Vlad said with a nod and left on his heel. He knew that his lord was completely smitten with the princess and knew better than to question his orders.