She can't stop crying because it hurts too much. When she hears a small thud, she can't help but flinch, anticipating the next blow. It does not appear. She notices the bindings on her legs being removed more slowly than those on her wrists. She remains immobile in her chair, refusing to move.

After a few minutes, she attempts to remove her blindfold and look around the room. She is no longer in the basement. She was in the red room and wanted to become acquainted with it because she sensed a scary aura in it, especially when she noticed the table with horrifying objects on it.

When she looks down at her feet, she notices the King on his knees, his head bowed. He looks like a painting of a fallen angel with its head down in repentance, but when he starts at her, he looks more like a monster.

He is both beautiful and sad. Her hand reaches out without her thinking, and she places it on his head. He eats, and his head slowly rises to allow her hand to fall to the side of his face.

"I'm so sorry," he says through tears, "I can't hurt you anymore... It's bringing me nothing but agony."

He simply stares at her, waiting for her reaction. "Why? The vampire doesn't have feelings; stop pretending!" she exclaimed, puzzled. "I don't know, I can't understand why I feel this way," he says after a brief pause.

"I don't understand what he feels, but I don't want him to hurt me; it's difficult for me to be here; I feel a pull to him even though he has been hurting me," she said to herself.

"I don't think... I can hurt you any longer," he admitted.

"Does that mean he'll let me go? Does that mean I won't be staying in this sh*t play any longer?" she pondered.

"Will you then let me go?" she inquires. "I can't. I need you by my side." He shakes his head, pausing for a moment to consider, "If I sucked all your blood, I could probably give you a shorter sentence."

He looks at her horrified expression and dismisses the notion.

He pauses again before continuing, "You can go to your room later, but for now, just stay in the basement for a while and remember to behave well or you'll face the consequences," he says quietly to himself. She gets out of her chair quickly and notices that she is naked. She takes a chance and wipes the blood from her chest.

He is still in the same position, kneeling in front of where she sat, as she leaves the room. She walks out, and one of the vampire guards leads her into the basement and locks the door.

Angel was still perplexed by the King's actions. "Why can't he hurt me? What did he mean when he said it causes him agony?" These and other questions race through her mind as she sits on the bed in the basement.

She has no idea when she falls asleep on the bed in an uncomfortable position. The king may have been in the basement for hours or minutes before gently shaking her awake.

~

"What do you want from me?" she asks, hoping to bargain with this man. She watched as he gave her an evil smile.

"All I ask for is cooperation; can you do that?" she asked, frowning at his words. How can he expect her to come willingly?

"Look, you can't take me away; there will be people looking for me," she tries to persuade him as she frees herself from his grip. She only notices the tattoos on the back of his hands when he pulls back, light skin marred with black ink. She tried for a moment to dislike the strange symbols on his fingers.

"No, they won't, I guarantee it," he says, snapping her back.

"What do you mean?" she inquires almost immediately, knowing that someone will notice her absence and realize she is in danger. She had complete faith in the people she knew who could detect when something was wrong. So what could this man possibly have possessed that they would not come looking for her, especially her family?

"What did you do?" she exclaims in horror as the horrible thought enters her mind. The king frowns as if he's trying to figure out who she's talking about. "Tell me you didn't hurt my family?" she yelled, her fear quickly replaced by rage.

"I have no idea who you're talking about, but I haven't hurt anyone, at least not yet, and if I stay that way as long as you behave," he says calmly, unfazed by how wrong he was.

"You've got to be f*cking kidding me," she exclaimed. "Who the hell is this monster, and what exactly does he want from me?" she asked herself.

"No, I'm not; I'll ruin everyone around you to show you that you have no other option."

"You can't, let me out of here-" she realized she'd made a bad decision the moment she launched herself at him.

He didn't seem surprised when he grabbed both her arms and pushed her down to the car floor. She used all of her remaining strength for one last blow, balling her fist and punching him in the face the second she felt his grip loosen. She's been on her own for far too long to know how to defend herself.

The King didn't say anything as he gave her a death glare; the look of utter rage on his face should've made her shrink, but it didn't.

The king grabs her elbow, squeezing it until it hurts, she winces at the pain as she looks up at him, his gaze cold, "Don't even think about running away, this whole castle belongs to me and I have men on guard everywhere. They won't think twice before sucking your blood to death if they see you running."

She swallowed hard at the thought of him causing harm to her family. "I can't let him hurt my family; I need to stay alive," she told herself as she tried to punch and kick him.

"You know that's not going to work," the king says as he pulls her back up, making her want to cry.

Angel feels like she's dying, but she can't show it to them. They'll see this as her weakness, "The witch princess has already left," one of the two new men says.

The king shrugs his shoulders, as if unconcerned. "Good."

"I hope you enjoy your stay in my castle," he says as he lets go of her, "it takes every ounce of strength in me to keep her standing."

The man who spoke before her takes a step towards her and crosses the boundary of her personal space.

He raises his hand, slowly trailing his fingers down the sleeves of her sweater; she shudders but refuses to move.

"Just as lovely as in the pictures," he sneers. "What pictures?" she asks, perplexed. "F*ck you," she says, shoving his hands away from her. "I like the fire in you, save it for when I mark you," he says, leaning in closer to her ear so only she can hear him.

She then falls back into the king's chest, his gaze fixed on her. It appears that all they wanted was to hurt her, and she has no idea why. I've never seen any of these men before, so what's their motive? "Why?" the king asks, his brow furrowed.

"You're my mate, and you're mine," he said as their gazes locked. Something is different about him now, his voice warmer and possessive than before. But she shouldn't be thinking about it right now.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, but I'm not yours, and I don't belong to anyone else," she interjected. "It's written in the prophecy; you're my mate, so you're mine," the king explained. It's too much for her to process, and she doesn't understand anything.

She then feels the king become tense behind her, which she doesn't understand. She could not possibly have been involved in any of this. "Look, I don't know you. I don't know about that prophecy. I remember you calling me Sanya. It's not my name, so I'm sure it's all a mistake. I am not Sanya. I'm not your mate," she explained, hoping he would understand and let him go.

"Enough," he says again, grabbing her elbow and commanding her to stop. "How could I not? this is my chance to persuade him," she says to herself.

"No! Why are you not listening?" she yelled at him.

The king pulls her to him and roughly embraces her. She claws at his hands, drawing blood from his skin with her nails.

Angel fights him on as the king accidentally slaps her on the cheek, leaving a burning sting as she falls to the ground.

"Please let me go," she begged.

"Enough," the king growls, causing her to tremble.

"It's late, you should rest now," He said as his men quietly left them. She sobbed as he walked away, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Get up!"

She ignores the demand, and she can sense his impatience growing. "For your own sake, don't test me," he says louder this time, his voice grim and deadly; she pulls herself up to face him, and for a split second, she sees a shred of sympathy in his ice-cold demeanor.

He takes her elbow again, but this time it wasn't painful, or maybe she couldn't feel it because it was nothing compared to the sting on her cheek. He watches her intently as he steps towards her, and she backs up until her spine is against the wall.

"Just let me make one call," she didn't expect to be pleading with him, but here she is.

"Didn't you ask me to take you away?" he questions her as if he is angry with her.

"This isn't exactly what I meant," she quickly responded.

"So, what did you mean?" his breath fans across her face. She can detect his cologne. His scent is a delicious combination of forest, wood, and ash. "Perhaps you still want me to fuck you, I mean mark you?" He tucks his hand beneath her chin, tilting her head up to face him. She felt sick at his touch, but she did what she had to do: she moved her hand and placed it over her chest, still feeling him under her.

"You really crossed the line back earlier, but if you say yes, I'll take you right now, there's a perfectly good bed in this basement," he says, his other hand lingering on her waist, she takes a sharp breath as she sneaks her hand under his jacket to where he put her phone. She knew he'd catch her, but she still had to try.

He has an evil grin on his face as he pulls back. His hand slides down from her chin to her neck, his grip suffocating but not fatally. She notices herself drifting, but she does not attempt to stop him; instead, she simply observes him. "How could anyone have fun doing this?" she wondered.

"It would've been far too easy if you had said yes." His words are devoid of emotion, even anger. Her eyes close on their own accord as she senses her mind drifting away.

"Is this it? Is this how I was supposed to end? It didn't feel right, but how could death ever feel right?"