Mated To The Cruel Prince
Chapter 351: In The Arms Of Her Enemy

Chapter 351: In The Arms Of Her Enemy

As Aldric’s words echoed, a chilling realization set in, causing Islinda’s blood to congeal, turning the warmth within her veins into an icy, paralyzing sensation. Every blood in her vein froze.

He had known.

Aldric had always known, the words repeated like a chant in her head. He had known that Rosalind would die. Premeditated that all of this would happen. How hilarious they had been to think they were being so careful in their plans when Aldric had always been one step ahead.

However, one thing dawned on Islinda above every other emotion surging through her. Aldric used her. Not that it was a new thing. The fact she was alive was because he had great use for her. He already used her as bait to trap Rosalind, the spy, and get her killed.

Fuck.

There had never been a chance for escape. Aldric bound her from the very start. How dare he steal her hope? How dare he take away the only thing she had been holding onto?!

Lifting her face, their gazes locked and the anger surged through her. How dare he control her life and be so smug about it? Islinda didn’t even when she swiftly swung her hand with force, making contact with his cheek in a resounding slap.

The impact echoed in the air as Aldric’s head jerked to the side, a sharp stinging sensation radiating across his face. Islinda had used a lot of force in the slap, thus leaving a red handprint on his skin, evidence of her fury and frustration. But to her annoyance, she watched the imprint ebb away, courtesy of his quick regenerative ability.

Silence surrounded them, not the good kind, but the heavy kind that made Islinda hold her breath knowing she just committed a great offense and Aldric would surely break her neck. Not that she regretted her action. Islinda would slap him again if given the chance.

Aldric’s eyes widened in shock, startled by the intensity of her action. He had not seen that coming and no one had ever slapped him across his face, not even his mother. Although the wound had vanished as if it had never happened, he still felt the weight of her anger sear across his skin. The impact left an emotional imprint, a poignant reminder of her ire that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

A smile crossed his face as he felt his face, "Alright, I deserve that one."

Anger flashed in Islinda’s eyes, she had hit Aldric so he could feel the burning pain inside of her chest, the useless feeling of being used, and the helplessness, knowing there was nothing she could do anymore about it again.

And yet not only had the mark on his face healed, but he was smug. He did not know, or understand the suffocating feeling that wanted to tear her out from the inside out. He does not know what it is to be a prisoner. To have his life ambition and dreams taken away from him.

With the burning rage, Islinda struck him across the face and he said, "I deserve that too."

No! Islinda shrieked inside of her mind, he deserved so much more. So much worse.

She slapped him again, this time continuously. The resounding slap rented the air and only the sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh was heard. Islinda’s hand began to sting from the impact but she didn’t want to stop. She wanted him to do something! Anything!

No, she wanted him to snap.

And yet, Aldric stood at the spot and took it all as if he deserved it. He did not react one bit, letting her take out her anger on him when he could snap her neck and end it all. Perhaps, that was what Islinda wanted as she continuously pushed him.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep up with it forever and her hand ached so much, she couldn’t move it anymore. Islinda clutched the front of Aldric’s tunic, looking him dead in the eyes and yet there was nothing in there. No pain. No hurt. No feeling. Just emptiness.

Her hand slipped from his garment and she crumbled to the floor, clutching at her chest this time as tears welled up in her eyes, and a cascade of emotion spilled over as sobs shook her frame, expressing a profound depth of sorrow.

Islinda surrendered to the emotional turbulence, letting out a nerve-wracking sob in that moment of overwhelming despair.

"It’s all over. You won... " Her words echoed with the ache of a wounded soul, each convulsive breath revealing the profound depth of her sorrow.

One would have expected that Aldric would be delighted with the outcome but he watched Islinda with a deep frown on his face. There was this annoying prickle of an ache in his chest and he was not oddly satisfied with reducing her to this and proving he indeed had control over her.

Her small shoulders shook with the intensity of her uncontrollable release, the sound carrying an undertone of vulnerability, exposing the inner turmoil that had reached a breaking point. An unguarded expression of pain crossed Aldric’s features, he did this to her. Nor did it please him as he wished. The profound depth of her sorrow was not the kind of weapon he could use. And for the first time, Aldric felt like a bully.

He ran his hand through his hair out of frustration. Why was he feeling this way? He had no fucking idea. Islinda was human and fragile and emotional outburst was easy for her kind, so then why was someone squeezing the air from his lungs? Why was he guilty over her tears?

"Well fuck this!" Aldric crouched down and pulled her into his arms without a moment’s hesitation.

"No, let me go, you bastard!" Islinda did not want to touch him. She did not want him anywhere near her.

But Aldric held tight and in no time she succumbed. She held onto him tight as if he was her lifeline. Islinda knew she would hate him after this was over, but for now, she sought comfort.

Even if it came in the form of the arms of her enemy.