Free Vilmo's Wrath: Deglon Blood by Lachesha W.B. Page B

him.
    “I suppose you want to hear about those dreams, now?”
    “I do, but not now. Right now we celebrate,” he says, lifting her into his arms, she wraps her legs around his waist.
    “Celebrate?”
    “Yes, your birthday and our brief engagement,” he says kissing her.

 
     
     
     
     

     
     
    F eeling stronger than he has in years, Dumont lived in Silas’ body as any 25-year-old man would. Living life as he always thought he deserved (as a king). Eating only the finest of foods, wearing only the best clothes, and being sure to always have only the finest of women to join him in his bed.
    Dumont for the first time lived a life he never thought he’d have. For months forgetting that his strength was temporary.
    One evening while they were eating, Aria looks up at him and gives him a questioning smile.
    “What’s on your mind Aria?”
    “It’s really good to see you happy father, but …”
    “But what? Are you not happy?” Dumont asks.
    “It’s not about me.”
    “Then what?”
    “Another woman has come, claiming to carry the prince’s child,” Aria answers.
    “Did you give her money?”
    “I did.”
    “So what is the problem?” Dumont asks.
    “Just—are you trying to have children?” Aria asks softly.
    “Ah, I see. Don’t worry. Even when the children are born you will be my one and only. No need to be jealous.” Dumont says.
    “I’m not jealous, father. I’m just not sure what your intentions are.”
    “Think Aria. This body won’t last forever. The next body will be of my own blood.” He says shoving chicken in his mouth.
    “You would do that to your own blood?” Aria asks.
    “What good is a child if they can’t be of use to you,” Dumont says as he glares at her. “I’m done looking at you for now. Please leave. I will call you for training in a few hours,” Dumont says, dismissing her with his hand as he finishes his meal.
     

     
    “You’re 21-years-old today. How do you feel?” Dumont asks Aria during their training.
    She breaths heavily as she blocks a punch to her chest. Dumont tosses his sword and gives her a stern look, awaiting her answer. Aria hesitates before answering. She looks to the ground.
    “Still no change, father,” she says softly.
    Dumont slowly walks toward her, his eyes gleaming with fury. He bends slightly to meet her ear.
    “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” he whispers.
    She shakes her head.
    “How is it that your only gifts are the ones I gave to you? Maybe you’re a dud. Just maybe that is why your parents didn’t want you,” Dumont says stepping back.
    He eyes her as if daring her to respond. Aria only stares at the ground, showing no emotion.
    “I’m sorry, father,” she mumbles.
    “No! Never call me that again! Not until you’ve proven yourself worthy to be my daughter again. Prove to me, you are worth loving. Can you do that?”
    Aria nods and walks away. Not hurt or saddened by Dumont’s words, only angry. Angry at herself for again disappointing him.
     

     
    Dumont slowly walks around the men and women that dangle by chains hung from the dungeon ceiling. They no longer scream or beg for their lives. Mostly because their mouths have been sewn shut and partly because they have been weakened by the many rubies implanted into the concrete walls. Their blood steadily drips from their open veins into buckets.
    “I’ve never had my own torture chamber before. Do you like the beautiful stones I’ve added? I think they bring nice color,” Dumont says, sitting in a chair in front of the group. “Blood is such a powerful liquid. Fabulous with dinner. Oh, how I wish things could have been different.”
    He laughs loudly.
    “That’s a lie. This is the perfect ending for you,” he says. “All you have to do is say yes. But no—you Szion are so damn proud.”
    Dumont stands and walks over to a woman. She gives a weak glare. He kisses her cheek.
    “Not to worry my sweet. You, three ladies, will live long enough to deliver