TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 52: I MISSED YOU

VALORIA WILDEROSE

It’s been three days since the incident of that night, and Azrael hasn’t searched for me; I am immensely grateful for it.

It’s left me with free time to myself, which I’ve used for my research and for spending time with other people beside myself—like Calliope, sometimes Elodie when she drops by the library to read with me.

Other times Yue and I enjoy the peaceful tranquility of life, sharing tea in the confines of my room. Life has never felt so peaceful.

And with this newfound peace, I’ve uncovered something about the blade: it was never retrieved by the goddess.

Instead, it’s believed to have been lost to the descendants of the Alpha Queen—the one who defeated the God of Death before the great war between the Lycans and the werewolves, a century ago.

It’s believed that it was taken back by the Lycans, which means there’s a possibility that Azrael actually has it—and it’s hidden somewhere in the palace, which brings me back to square one.

It’s still good news though, knowing I’ve made so much progress in merely three days of intense research.

It’s the boost of confidence I’ve needed for so long, accompanied by a much-needed break to heal the cracks in my sanity.

But these past few days have not gone without their downsides.

"There she is... the stuttering hag that calls herself the king’s favorite."

"I hear she started the rumor to get popular, but it’s not actually true, is it? Lady Alice says so."

"She’s not even that pretty — of course it was never true. Just some attention-seeking whore." The maids gossiping in a corner of the hall as I step out of my room don’t even bother whispering their opinions, hoping to draw a reaction from me.

Especially when I’m by myself.

Sadly for them, I know better.

Instead of giving in, I decide to leave, walking right past them in the hallway without eye contact. But then one of them refuses to let it go.

A mop is shoved in my path and I trip over it, falling onto my knees on the floor.

Laughter ensues from three of them, bursting into fits that reverberate through the hall.

"Watch where you’re going, slut," they swear crudely, and I flinch.

"E-Excuse me? I—I’m n-no... not a sl-lut."

"What?" one of them leans closer, ears alert. "Sorry, I don’t understand you... are you speaking English or gibberish?"

"It’s that thing she does—pretending to have a speech problem so she gets pity. They say it’s how she got the high concubines wrapped around her fingers."

"Hey, speak properly." The last one pokes at me painfully, right into my shoulder. "Stop pretending you can’t talk."

"L-Let me go," I insist, glaring at them, but it only triggers the sadistic parts of their brains, daring them to continue.

It isn’t the first time I’ve been bullied by maids; most of them make more subtle moves—sneaking stale food into my plate or dropping things on me while passing and pretending it’s a mistake with half-baked apologies.

I have a strong reason to blame Alice for the increased intensity these past few days.

"Stop whining. Goddess, your voice is annoying." The first reaches forward to grab at my hair.

I flinch, bracing myself for the pain, and instead a horrified scream breaks out from her.

"AaArHhHhggGgG!" she cries in agony, falling to her knees while Azrael’s assault doesn’t end—bending the arm in ways I doubt it can recover from.

"I don’t remember maids being so disrespectful to those ranks above them before," he says with a calm smile that’s equally terrifying—sounding almost concerned, as if this wasn’t what he intended from the moment he spun those rumors.

"Your majesty, we apologize." The other two fall on their knees and break into tears from sheer fear and panic because they know what comes next.

Azrael doesn’t just sink his teeth into a person without killing them gruesomely, and they know it, pleading for their lives.

Their switch is almost unbelievable—from completely defiant to devastated in a split second.

"Oh, are you?"

"Yes! Please have mercy! Please!" more crying and tears.

Weeks ago I might have pissed myself, but he’s tortured and desensitized me to the point that I just stand and watch silently, refusing to show the slightest bit of emotion he can use against me.

"Should I? What do you say, Valoria?" He looks at me finally, as expected. "You’re typically one that believes in mercy—or maybe should I gut each of them painfully slow for insulting you? I promise I’ll make it entertaining to watch."

I flinch slightly. Part of me agrees that they deserve it, but the last thing I want to see is him killing anyone.

"L-Let them g-go."

He pouts playfully. "Boring as always. Very well."

He lets the girl go, and she falls flat on the floor, catching her breath while silently sobbing, cradling her disfigured arm. Her friends bow down gratefully.

"Thank you! Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Leave," Azrael responds with a dead-tired look.

They don’t waste a second picking her up and running off as fast as they can. He gives it a moment—just until they’re far enough—before that same playful smile creeps back onto his face.

"Did you miss me?"

"No."

"Ouch." He feigns hurt and a pout. "Well, I missed you," he confesses with something I almost believe to be sincerity before a new sinister smile is plastered on his face again.

Don’t forget, every single word that comes out of his mouth is a lie, Valoria.

I won’t ever forget again.

He leans in close—dangerously close—staring at me with derangement.

"I miss our games. I miss the devastation in your eyes, and the light that dims every time someone dies in front of you while you were too weak to stop it. I miss tasting that sweet, sweet despair that oozes off you every time."

"I-Is that why yo-you’re here? T-t-to t-torture me ag-gain now that I se-seem rested en-ough?"

"Ah-ah, don’t tempt me, little mouse," he warns in a low, deep, and sultry tone that terrifies me even more. "I can still call those girls back and play a fun dissection game."

I shudder.

"W-why are yo-u here then?"

"Relax... I’m not here to kill you. I still have use for you. Rather, there’s a mission I’m about to embark on, and you’re going to help me with it."

"I don’t understand."

"We’re going to visit the Wilderoses next week, and you’re going to come with me as the ’King’s favored concubine.’"

"W-why do yo-you want to vis-sit my family?"

"Nothing you should concern yourself with. Just be a good girl and nod along like you always do, and maybe I’ll grant your wish and leave you alone for a while. That is, before I kill you."

"A-and if I d-do-don’t want to follow you?"

"You don’t have much of a choice. Either I kill you for being utterly useless to me now, or you get to live for another two weeks. So, what do you say?"

Another threat. They never end, do they?

I’m no different than a slave or an animal answering to his every beck and call. My life hasn’t changed one bit—whether it’s here or back home.

I bite my lip, holding back a reaction again.

"Fine, wh-whatever yo-you w-wish, Your M-aj-ajesty."

Then there’s that disappointed frown on his face again—the same as the day we were tied together.

"Azrael," he corrects me, frowning deeply all of a sudden.

He’s close again, face barely inches away from mine, heavy with dissatisfaction that wasn’t there seconds ago.

"That is the only name you’re allowed to call me up until the day you die, Valoria."

I’m taken off guard, but I still say it absentmindedly to please him.

"Azrael."

It’s enough to calm his sudden psychotic break. He pauses, releases a breath, and pulls away again.

"Good. Don’t forget that ever again."