She's Mine

Chapter 21

A week has passed since the encounter with the Grayson and my first training session and yet everyday his scent was strong and clear as day when I breathed in every morning and everyday he was on my mind, it was as if I had just seen him yesterday.

But a week had passed by, and I spent every night training and every night enhancing my magic and physical strength any way I could.

When the sun rose this morning, something was different, his scent was more distinct and thrust upon me than any other day, as if he had spent the entire night by my side.

It must've been the jacket, someone must've found the jacket and flaunted it about, casting the scent everywhere. I flew out of bed with an energy I didn't know I had and quickly rushed towards the drawer, where I had been hiding it. Muttering prayers under my breath, I jerked it open and shuffled through the clothes I had laid on top. His intense scent wafted into my nose like someone had blown it onto my face. I melted at the smell.

Even when he wasn't here, the effect he had was ridiculous. I shook my head at the foolishness, I couldn't be feeling like this towards a male I barely knew.

He hadn't come to retrieve his jacket at all, I hadn't seen him since the time he had come to see me a week ago-

My ears perked when I heard the shuffling of Emily walking towards my door and in a frenzy, I stuffed the jacket deeper into my drawer, piling an abundance of clothing ontop. Slamming the drawer shut, I race up the stairs and plonk myself on the cushioned bench, seconds before Emily walks in, a serene smile on her face, although her eyes still were wary.

My heart was palpitating as I watched her sniff, her eyebrows wrinkling in confusion.

"Prince- Lua?" she called out and I waved at her from where I was lying, "What's that smell?"

Shit. I knew it wasn't just my pining mind.

I stood up and walked down the stairs for the second time in five minutes, plastering a neutral look on my face as I questioned, "What smell?"

She idly walked towards me, sniffing the air as she came closer. "It's you, you smell different,"

I willed my heart to slow down, as I laughed, "Is it a bad thing?"

She shook her head wildly, "No, no, no. It smells nice," she said hurriedly, trying her best not to seem rude.

I shrugged and trudged towards the bathroom, splashing water on my face. Hopefully, when I took a shower, his scent would be of me, before anyone else noticed. I couldn't let the king and queen find out that their enemy had been on their land.

I thought back to the conversation they were having that one night. The queen wanted me married to him to stop the war, but the king said no. I thought back to the feeling when he uttered the words, the feeling as if my stomach had dropped to my chest.

I needed to calm myself down, this was getting out of hand. I couldn't be feeling sad because the king didn't want me to marry Grayson. I shouldn't want to marry Grayson because I don't know who he is, I shouldn't want to marry a male I hardly knew. It was ridiculous and immature.

I cursed my heart and demanded silence. Running around, feeling like that, was dangerous and stupid.

I put on the clothes that Emily hung for me and sat at the vanity, as Emily did my hair; the braid crown, like always, with loose tendrils at the front.

I thought about Grayson as Emily gently pulled and tugged at my hair, I was still thinking about him when I was following her to the dining room. And he was still on my mind, when I sat down at the table, the king and queen's stare burning at my skin.

I blinked and looked up, my eyes ablaze as I stared back at them. "Is there something on my face?" I spat out, my hand gripping my fork.

"Don't speak to us like that," Cynthia hissed back, her eyes slits.

"How should I speak to you then?" I questioned, my thumb pressing onto the body of the fork with enough force to dent it forwards.

"With respect," the king voiced boomed through the empty dining table.

"Respect?" I laughed out with no humour, "You monsters don't have the luxury of something like respect. So I'll speak to you whatever way I want!"

My head snapped to the side, as a force struck me, I felt blood pooling in my mouth and pain radiating at my cheek.

They did this every day. They would find any excuse to beat me to a bloody pulp. Even when I was silent throughout the entire meal. And every single time I reacted the same way.

Anger shot through me like lightning, charging through my veins. I jerked from my seat, spitting the blood out of my mouth and onto the dining table. As fast as I could gather my ice, I hurtled it towards them, flinging an arm to put more power into the magic writhing out. Doing the same with the opposite arm but using fire instead.

It was getting faster, my reaction and the speed at which I could attack. Hopefully one day, it would be enough to actually hurt them.

But today, I wasn't fast enough. That invisible force blocked out my fire all together and I narrowly missed the king, as he had dodged my ice with annoyingly fast reflexes.

His eyes a burning reflection of my own.

Angry and lusting for blood.

And at that moment I realised the similarities between me and them. As much as I had tried to think otherwise, I was their daughter, I shared their blood.

The power dried out of me when I realised that we were a mirror image of each other at that second. I realised how angry I got and how much I craved to see their blood spilled and how many times I had acted with that biting coldness. The violence I had displayed for everything.

We were the same.

I flopped onto the seat, as I got pushed down with bone breaking force, the wood splitting and collapsing onto itself, taking me with it.

I mentally prepared myself for the beating that was going to come. The one that always came. Knowing that even if I tried, I wouldn't get a single scratch on them.

I felt the blows come, I felt bones snapping and healing, muscles tearing, and blood pouring from all over. I would have scars that would heal over but never disappear, all over the short period of time I had stayed here. Maybe it was a mistake leaving Rowan's manor, leaving behind the memories of another life.

But what was done was done. There was no turning back the clock. I would have done so if there was a long long time ago.

They would push me to the brink, but never over. I would still be breathing by the end of it all, even if my body was on fire with pain, burning with heat that could disintegrate bones.

I was burning. And I couldn't put the fire out. And it was slowly turning me to ash.