Mated To The Cruel Prince
Chapter 521: Scared Of What She Was Becoming

Chapter 521: Scared Of What She Was Becoming

Valerie was completely absorbed in examining his face in the mirror, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, so much so that he didn’t notice Islinda’s approach until she spoke.

"It’s that bad, right?"

Startled, Valerie nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice behind him. He turned to face her, momentarily taken aback by her proximity. He could see the worry etched into her features, mirrored in her wide eyes as she awaited his response.

"No," Valerie replied defensively, his tone firm as he refused to let Islinda shoulder the guilt for the incident. "You were struggling in your dreams. It’s not just you. I must have clawed myself in the process," he claimed, attempting to ease her worries and absolve her of any responsibility.

But Islinda saw through his attempt to shield her from blame and couldn’t bear the thought of him taking responsibility for what she had done.

"Valerie, I—" Islinda began, her voice filled with urgency as she sought to address the situation head-on.

"I think I got blood on myself," Valerie swiftly interrupted her, his tone deflective as he glanced down at his stained tunic. "I’ll have to go and clean up. You should do the same, then come down for breakfast. I’m sure you’re starving," he suggested, before abruptly leaving the room, effectively cutting off any chance for Islinda to respond.

Left alone, Islinda sighed heavily, her heart weighed down by a mix of guilt and frustration. She knew deep down that Valerie was only covering up for her out of love, and he had no evidence to suggest otherwise. But Islinda knew she had been the one who clawed him. Now Valerie was going to begin to suspect her. The gods help her, why was her life so complicated?

With a heavy heart, Islinda lowered her gaze to her trembling hands, the very hands that had inflicted pain upon Valerie. A pang of guilt twisted in her chest as she traced her fingers, noticing a smear of crimson staining her hand. It dawned on her that this blood must have come from Valerie when she clawed his face.

Normally, Islinda would have dismissed the blood without a second thought, washing it away without hesitation. But this time was different. A peculiar sensation stirred within her as she stared, fixated on the crimson hue, her throat tightening with an unexpected thirst. With a trembling hand, she brought her finger closer to her lips, feeling an inexplicable urge to taste the metallic tang of the blood. It was a bizarre impulse, one that both fascinated and unnerved her, but she couldn’t resist the strange pull compelling her to indulge in this forbidden desire.

With a jolt, Islinda snapped out of it, her mind reeling with disbelief at the disturbing thought that had momentarily consumed her.

"No!" she exclaimed aloud, her voice trembling with a mix of horror and confusion.

But despite her firm resolve, her gaze involuntarily drifted back to her hand, and she felt a lump form in her throat as she swallowed hard. Veins protrude against her skin, a visible manifestation of her internal struggle against this inexplicable craving. It felt like she would die if she didn’t have a taste, the notion sending shivers down her spine as she grappled with the overwhelming urge.

In a moment of weakness, Islinda succumbed to the overpowering urge, lifting her finger to her quivering lips and tasting the metallic tang of blood. A shiver of perverse pleasure coursed through her as the flavor danced across her tongue, eliciting a low, guttural moan of satisfaction to escape her parted lips.

Her eyelids fluttered shut, enveloping her in a cocoon of blissful indulgence as she surrendered herself to the intoxicating sensation. Unable to resist the insatiable craving that consumed her, Islinda began to methodically lick each of her fingers, her movements becoming increasingly fervent as she sought to satiate her newfound desire. The hunger for more, for deeper immersion in this forbidden pleasure, pulsed within her, driving her to pursue it with an almost desperate fervor.

In a sudden moment of clarity, Islinda’s gaze met her reflection in the mirror, and a gasp of horror escaped her lips as she recoiled in shock at the sight before her. The realization of what she had just done washed over her like a cold wave, sending tremors of fear coursing through her body.

Gone was the blood that had once stained her hand, licked clean by her own tongue. Now, all that remained was the sickening realization of the depths to which she had descended.

Islinda gagged in revulsion, a disturbing realization creeping into her mind, sending shivers down her spine. Despite the nausea gripping her, Islinda couldn’t deny the unsettling truth that lurked within her subconscious: she had felt no repulsion at the taste of blood.

Cold dread settled over her like a suffocating blanket as the memory of the demon from her dream flashed before her mind’s eye. Time seemed to stand still as Islinda froze in place, a chill coursing through her veins, freezing her blood with the horrifying recognition of what she was becoming.

No way.

That was impossible. That made no sense. She was not some demon. That was someone else’s memory planted in her head. If she was a demon, she would know. Yet, as Islinda battled the turmoil within her, her gaze was drawn once more to the mirror, and what she saw there caused her breath to hitch in her throat.

Initially dismissing it as a mere trick of the light, Islinda cautiously approached the mirror for a closer look. As she scrutinized her reflection, the truth became undeniable. There, amidst the darker strands of her hair, was a distinct streak of white, stark against the rest of her locks.

It appeared as though someone had deliberately dyed that portion blonde, starting from the root. Confusion and disbelief washed over her as she struggled to comprehend how such a thing could have happened. She knew she hadn’t dyed her hair, and she couldn’t fathom why Valerie would do such a thing without her knowledge.

With mounting panic, Islinda’s fingers moved frantically through her hair, attempting to conceal the jarring contrast of the white streak against her brown locks. Despite her desperate efforts, the anomaly remained stubbornly visible, mocking her attempts to hide it.

In her haste to retreat from the unsettling sight, Islinda lost her footing, and with a gasp, she tumbled to the ground in a graceless heap, her heart pounding with fear and confusion as she grappled with the inexplicable changes unfolding within her.

Islinda’s body shook with fear, her mind racing with confusion and disbelief. She could feel it deep down inside, there was something seriously wrong with her. Something was changing inside of her, as if trying to take over her whole being.

Yet Islinda desperately clung to the notion that it was all just a coincidence, that she was simply a half-breed human and was not connected to some abused demon in the dark past. Yet, the unsettling evidence before her eyes refused to be ignored, leaving her trembling with a profound sense of dread. Islinda was scared of what she was becoming.