Mated To The Cruel Prince
Chapter 611: Who Are You

Chapter 611: Who Are You

Islinda had the craziest dream.

An erotic one again.

Except this time, it was so vivid that it almost felt real. But of course, it was ridiculous considering she would never be the one to seek and seduce Aldric. No wonder, it was a dream — everything was possible in it. So she slept blissfully, strangely satiated.

It must have been hours when Islinda awoke with a moan on her lips, her eyes still shut close. She felt a hot mouth on her breast and she arched upwards towards the source. She moaned as the phantom figure in her assumed dream sucked harder on her nipple, his hand showing attention to her other breast by kneading it, then rolling the nipples between his fingers till they had pebbled to a point.

He continued sucking lasciviously, the pleasure coming in torrents as he swiftly changed patterns whenever she got too used to it. Islinda moaned, heat flaring in her core, and she ached around nothing. By the gods, she needed him.

Even without explicitly acknowledging who she needed, Islinda knew already. It was somehow ingrained in her being. She wanted Aldric. He was the only one who would torment her in a dream like this. They say dead men tell no tales, but neither do dreams. It was no wonder she unashamedly indulged and submitted to her basest desires.

It was a guilty pleasure.

The Aldric of her dream would satisfy her without ulterior motives to his every action. He wouldn’t be preparing to murder his brother in a week’s time. In her dreams, Aldric was flawless, perfect in every way. But then, that was precisely what made it a dream. It was too perfect to be real.

However, when Aldric bit down on her nipples hard enough to cause pain, heightening the pleasure but stopping short of breaking the skin, it shattered her illusion. The pain cut through her, awakening her from the dreamlike haze. This. Was. No. Dream.

Islinda’s eyes snapped open, realizing that the so-called erotic dream was no dream at all. Her gaze fell on Aldric, leaning over her with his sexily tousled midnight blue hair, eyes lidded with lust as his entire attention was fixed on her breasts, tasting, sucking, squeezing, grazing with his teeth, and massaging them.

While the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her, Islinda was more startled by the shock of waking up naked on his bed. So she screamed loudly, jolting Aldric from his lust-induced state.

"What’s wrong?" Aldric asked, trying to keep her from running away. But in the midst of trying to subdue her, she jammed a knee up into his groin in defense.

Aldric let go abruptly, groaning and cursing under his breath as he clutched his manhood. Islinda didn’t have time to apologize for what she had done because she was disoriented, grabbing her hair in confusion as she shot up to her feet.

"What in the Fae is going on here?" she exclaimed internally.

How did she end up here? Worse of all, she was naked. And oh, Islinda winced as she felt soreness between her legs. How did she get to this point? Wasn’t it all a dream?

Islinda identified her flimsy nightgown on the bed. Though it was hers, she didn’t recall wearing it. It was different from the one she had worn to bed. Islinda didn’t have time to wonder about the strangeness because she grabbed it and dressed up in record time.

Were it in other situations, Islinda would have been furious and blamed Aldric for shockingly taking her in her sleep. But that dream came back to her, and she recalled walking into his room by herself. If there was anyone who needed to apologize, it was Islinda.

The dream was vivid to her, the one where she had dominated and used Aldric, the memories bringing a furious blush to her cheeks while her core throbbed. By the gods, what was going on with her?

Islinda’s head was reeling from everything, and she needed to get the hell out of there. She needed to think and understand what the hell happened there last night.

But as soon as Islinda was ready to bolt, Aldric’s voice halted her.

"What’s up with you, Islinda? Tell me, did I do something wrong?"

Islinda turned to Aldric, her heart squeezing painfully at the confusion. By the gods, Aldric did not deserve this. She had broken her promise not to make a move on him, and yet she still didn’t comprehend how it came to happen. Islinda had an inkling that whatever happened last night, she had used him, and the guilt only intensified.

Aldric’s eyes suddenly narrowed. "Or are you having regrets again? Is this one of your games where we go back and forth..." He laughed mirthlessly. "Of course, I knew it. I am only an object to be used whenever you need me."

"No, that’s not the case, I..." Islinda trailed off, having no idea how she was going to explain that something must have possessed her and used him.

Aldric’s pleading words echoed in the air, desperation in his tone. "Then please don’t go... Fuck, help me out..."

That’s when Islinda realized that Aldric was as hard as a rock, shamelessly stroking himself. Islinda’s cheeks flushed beet red, her breath hitching as she watched the erotic scene unfold before her.

Despite Aldric’s suffering, Islinda wasn’t about to fall into his trap. She knew that one thing would surely lead to another, and she’d end up back in his bed once more. Moreover, she needed to sort out whatever was happening with her. So she fled before her resolve could waver, determined not to make a mistake.

Islinda rushed back into her room, her heart pounding in her chest as she slammed the door shut behind her. She stumbled over to the mirror, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Bringing her hand up to her mouth, she stifled a scream at the sight that greeted her. What in the Fae? What had she and Aldric been up to last night?

Her eyes widened in horror as she took in the sight before her. Glaring love bites adorned her neck, shoulder, chest, and arms, like marks of possession. What had she been thinking? How could she go out looking like this without anyone guessing what had happened? That is, if the whole palace hadn’t heard their activities last night. They had not exactly been subtle.

It was obvious that Islinda would need to tie a scarf and wear long sleeves for the days to come to conceal the evidence of their wild night. She moved closer to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with accusing eyes. She peered into the depths of the glass as if she could uncover the truth behind her actions. But no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t shake the feeling of something lurking in the dark corners of her mind, slumbering in her consciousness and ready to awaken.

Leaning even closer to the mirror, Islinda muttered ominously, "Who the hell are you?"