Call Of The Dark

"Emma!" Lazarus warned her with a growl. "No one insults me. And with what you have just said, it seems that you wish to die!"

Emma walked to the curtains that she had been thinking about and said, "Then kill me, Lord Lazarus. I challenge you to."

Lazarus watched her, studying every movement of hers. He knew that she was provoking him. He smirked. "Provoke me all you want, Emma. I won't kill you." He opened the door of the bathroom she had just used. "But I will punish you for this!" He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him before she could utter a word.

The bathroom was filled with her scent mixed with that of the fresh hot water that Ginger must have added to wash her clothes. He removed his trousers and stepped into that hot steamy water. He grabbed the edges of the tub and rested his head back.

Though he had slept like a log for hours, his nightmare visited him only when she had left him. He hadn't experienced this kind of sleep in years. This meant that he was slacking.

Over his years of plotting ways to grab the throne of Wilyra, he had accepted the risk of facing dangers at every step. But he had told himself that he was mentally and physically far too strong. He could easily handle that risk. And why not? He was after all the first born of his father and strongest of his siblings. Over the years he had become cruel and wicked in all his dealings because of his single agenda.

Nightmares visited him every single time he slept, but he never expected that he would sleep so well surrounded in her presence. He never thought that he would be overcome with panic in her absence. He was always so busy making plots upon plots to seize his father's throne, using people for his advantage but now—

He hadn't given a single thought to the impending trial. His father had called him by afternoon for the trial, knowing fully well that he slept during the day. He knew it was to torture him.

Yes, he was slacking. His heart that was thundering when he didn't find her in his bed, was strangely… calm.

Using the same soap bar that she used for herself, he scrubbed himself well. He was going to present himself to his father along with Emma.

When he finished taking a bath, he wrapped a towel around his waist and came out, flexing his muscles all the more. For her. He ruffled his wet hair and let the drops of water sluice down his torso to appear sexy. And just as he expected, she started stealing glances at him. In order to exhibit his muscles, he flexed his biceps as he walked past her.

Her cheeks became a lovely shade of pink. His chin lifted up in pure male pride. He said, "I know that you lust after me even though you hate me."

She clenched her jaws at his hubris. "No, if you are thinking that you are the first man in my life, then you are wrong. Several boys liked me back in the village." She brushed her dress and picked an invisible thread. But she never lusted after them.

Lazarus had to think seriously about his trial but a very strong emotion akin to jealousy flared inside him. He shook his head to get rid of the jealousy because soon she was going to have Maeve in her body. Emma was going to become Maeve. It returned.

In graceful steps, she walked to her bed and sat down on it with her arms leaning back for support. "If I go back to the village, I am sure there will be a be- line of boys for me." She gave him a side glance. "And you would be the last one in that long line."

His pride hurt, he wanted to break the bed she was sitting on and see her screaming. He padded towards her, his chest heaving. He leaned over her and caged her in his arms, the muscles of which were already bulging. With his face merely a few inches away, he growled, "Are you comparing me with those useless wimps of the village?" He remembered when a boy had started liking her in a village who wanted to make out with her. The thought made him… mad. He felt like going back to the village and killing the boy. And now, he regretted that he only broke his carriages.

"Why should I compare?" she said, inching back from him. He seemed to come nearer as she leaned further back. "They were better than you."

Everything turned red. Emma was bathed in crimson. He pounded the headboard of the bed and it shattered under the impact. She shrieked and before she could fall, he grabbed her waist and traced her to his bedchamber.

"Lazarus!" she screamed when he set her on her feet.

"You are going to stay here and together we will go to the court for the trial!" he growled and left her to get dressed.

Immediately, she sank to the floor, feeling dizzy. "Stop tracing me!" she said in a shaky voice.

"I won't," he replied under the façade of calm. Inside he was raging. He would go back to the village after trial and kill that boy.

After he got dressed in his signature black trousers and matching tunic, he said, "I have to trace you to the throne hall."

"No, thank you!" she snapped. "I will come myself."

"We don't have time," he grated. He was disgusted with himself for spending time getting jealous of a useless boy.

"I don't care," she murmured.

"Nor do I!" He said and grabbed her waist. He picked her up like she had no weight, and cupped the back of her head, despite her protesting. He pressed her face against his chest and said, "Close your eyes."

Emma didn't have a choice. She snapped her eyes shut, buried her face in his chest, and he traced with her to the throne hall. This time she didn't feel dizzy when he set her on her feet. When she opened her eyes, she saw King Viktor on the throne, staring at them.