Elana sat on the bed wrapped in a bathrobe, unwilling to return to the filthy gown she'd worn the day before.
She wondered if there were spare clothes somewhere—maybe in a closet she couldn't see.
She exhaled. She had called out for help but no one came.
They'd probably assumed she'd still be sleeping.
She really needed to learn to sleep longer, now that she was free.
Free.
The word echoed again.
If Zane and the others hadn't helped her escape—and if Azael hadn't protected her—she would have died.
Elana clenched her fists, promising she would learn to take better care of her life.
Suddenly her muscles loosened as the scent of dandelions filled the air.
Her heart leapt.
"Trisha."
Trisha's soft chuckle warmed the room. "Still as beautiful as a rose."
Elana felt her arms around her—warm, grounding, safe.
"You've been through so much, little one," Trisha whispered.
Elana should have cried, but one couldn't cry when next to Trisha. Still, she managed to say through a trembling smile, "I was a slave, Trisha. Nothing more."
"No, child." Trisha gently stroked through the tangles in her hair. "To that little boy, you were far more than a slave."
It should have hurt—should have made her cry to think of Israel's tiny hands wrapped around hers.
But Trisha's presence softened everything.
When Trisha released her, Elana reached for her injured arm. The pain was gone
"It's gone…" she breathed, then felt the lingering wound on her neck. Still there.
"I'm afraid that's the most I could erase, sweetheart," Trisha said, taking her hand. "I don't think I have a perfect dress for you anymore. But I have something manageable. Is that alright?"
Elana nodded. Anything was better than the dirty gown.
And if Azael kissed her again…she wanted to feel clean.
Comfortable enough to tell him not to stop.
The new gown hugged her body in all the wrong ways—tight at the hips, dangerously loose across her chest. She adjusted the front nervously—her breasts felt too bare.
"Are..are you sure this is alright, Trisha?" she asked, trying to pull the fabric upward where the air touched her chest.
"It's perfect, child, this was the only one that fit you just right. Your chest is a little on the big side—nothing I could do about that." Trisha chuckled.
"Maybe… a scarf?" Elana asked shyly.
A thin, sleek fabric draped over her shoulders. Elana held both ends across her chest, relieved.
"That's better," Trisha approved. "Now let's go say 'hi' to your new friends."
**
Fen sat on his throne, smiling faintly. The swelling on his face had almost gone. The injuries inflicted by Azael always healed slowly.
The werewolf who had survived the attack, the one in which Azael had first bitten Elana, stepped forward, now in human form, bowing his head.
"When you witnessed Azael's magic up close…did he ignite all of you at once?"
Fen asked.
"No, Alpha. Only four."
"And they were close together?" Fen asked.
"Yes, Alpha."
Fen leaned back. He'd suspected Azael chose not to burn all his wolves—but this proved something different.
Maybe Azael couldn't ignite too many at once.
Fen smirked.
This time he wasn't planning on being fair in a fight.
**
Cara's joyful squeals filled the room as Caesar groaned her name.
Trisha had woken him, and Zane's wrist was healed too.
"How's this even possible?" Zane muttered beside her.
"She never tells me," Elana smiled."I think she's a fairy."
"That…and it's morning," Zane added. "Though it doesn't look like it."
"Did you feel your wrists heal instantly?" Cara's voice cut in, annoyed.
"Lay off me, Cara," Zane sighed. "Those creepy red things seem to be the worst part of this place."
A wendigo's deep voice echoed behind them:
"Come with me. All of you."
"Bloody creeps," Zane muttered before his hands slid into Elana's—protective, warm.
Elana's ears caught Ceasar telling Cara he could manage on his own, before Cara gently took Elana's hand from Zane's grip.
"I'll hold her instead," Cara said.
Elana couldn't see them, but the tension was thick.
Zane scoffed. "This is an advanced level of ass licking."
"Like I said last night—you're not ruining my chances at a life after everything," Cara snapped.
Elana swallowed."It's ok. I.."
"No, it is not, Elana." Cara insisted, tugging her forward.
**
A soft tension thickened the air. Even unseen, Azael's gaze lingered on Elana, puzzling over Trisha's choice of dress.
If not for the scarf she clutched, her breasts could spill from the fabric.
He noticed the bald man awake and eating. A calm giant, he however seemed like an unpredictable person.
Cara and Zane were bickering over who should help Elana handle her food.
Cara was smart enough to know her place.
Zane was pushing limits.
Azael had given them food and healing, so they could be in the right state of mind to make their choice.
He materialized slowly at the head of the long dining table. Everyone froze at the sight of him, except Elana.
Zane scoffed but Azael ignored him, his gaze drifting to how close the man sat beside Elana. Especially with that dress she wore.
"The roads are tight with Lumere soldiers," Azael said. "I assume you don't want to run into them, considering you were all prisoners of your ruler."
"We can manage—" Zane began.
"Without Elana," Azael cut in. "She stays here until it's safe outside."
"We don't want to venture out there too soon either," Cara added.
"That's if you'll have us," the bald man said gruffly.
Azael tilted his head toward him, holding his gaze in a silent question.
"My bad," the man said. "Name's Ceasar."
Azael turned to Zane, "You were saying?"
He saw the muscles clench in Zane's jawline, as he nodded stiffly, avoiding Azael's stare.
"I'll stay where my crew stays."
Azael's attention slid back to Elana.
She was holding the scarf loosely now, barely covering the enticing swell of her chest. And she was still too seated close to Zane.
He forced himself to look away, grounding his mind on the room instead of the temptation sitting beside her.
Azael couldn't afford to slip deeper than he already had.
"Master Azael," Elana's soft voice carried across the room.
"Yes, Elana." He answered—hating how that voice triggered the memories of her moans.
"Can we speak in private..?" she asked hesitantly. "When it's convenient, that is."
The rest of the table pretended to mind their own business. It wasn't every day he got demands from humans—much less a girl like her.
Azael's gaze met Zane's, who was already watching him with suspicion.
"Now, Elana?" he replied in a slow, drawn-out voice.
She exhaled softly. "A little after now is just fine."
Another chance to be alone with her.
He smirked at Zane, letting just a flash of fang slip purposely.
Zane's teeth clenched. "What the hell are y-"
"Zane!" Cara snapped.
"What's your problem?" Caesar muttered, tightening his grip on his cutlery.
"My minion will bring you to me when you're ready, Elana," Azael said, noticing her faint confusion. "Until then—enjoy your meal."
He vanished, reappearing on his throne. Eyes closing as his mind lingered on Elana—on the soft curve of her chest pressing against the dress.
"Azael."
Eira's voice cut through the air. He opened his eyes slowly, irritated that he hadn't sensed her sooner.
"Why are you here, Eira?" he asked with a frown.
"I'm here with better offers. Better than whoever convinced you to babysit a blind girl and a pack of rogue soldiers."
Azael teleported in front of her instantly, his hand snapping around her throat.
Eira choked, grasping at his wrists.
"I didn't mean…"
He leaned in, watching her pale skin flush red under his grip. She writhed but he held her steady, whispering fiercely against her face.
"Don't you ever suggest I'm beneath any human."
Eira nodded desperately. "I'm so…"
He released her, teleporting back to his throne. She coughed violently, steadying herself. Next time she would know better.
Then she laughed breathlessly.
"You never claimed to be a saint, after all."
Her eyes lifted to his. One hand hovered at her neck, tracing the shape of his fingers.
"I remember these marks…traces of how your desire overwhelmed me,
how violently you claimed me when you wanted me."
She lowered her gaze, voice trembling with something between pride and pain.
"You couldn't possibly be interested in a blind girl."
"Who said I was?" Azael replied coldly.
Eira's gaze snapped up.
She held her respect but her voice shook. "Your actions speak otherwise. There's something about her—something pulling at you. You never troubled Fen—but you did because of her."
Azael clenched his jaw, keeping his composure iron tight. "I didn't pay for your help to explain myself to you, Eira."
"Then I'll think whatever I want to," she said and scoffed, folding her arms.
"But it'll be dangerous for a girl like Elana to be out there—blind and alone."
Azael's stare sharpened to a lethal edge.
Eira's gaze dropped—then she disappeared.