The tailor’s hands shook so hard it was almost impossible to write down their measurements without getting it wrong once or twice. He would measure the prince, write, then forget midway the size as his head runs miles overthinking.
He scratched at the wrong numbers, and then started all over again.
"Stop that or else..." Aleksander glared at him.
The tailor locked eyes with the prince, and a horrific scene flashed in front of his eyes. His house and shop on fire, everything he worked hard for gone with the flames. His family bathed in their own blood, his pained scream echoing in his own ears.
Blood curdling. There were no other words to describe what he saw.
The man blinked rapidly, and he knew right then that the rumors of the prince’s powers were not far from the truth. If he was left to his own accord, destruction was sure to follow those that opposed him.
How did it come to this when he had been silent for a very long time now?
"F-Forgive me, your h-highness," stuttered the tailor, "I am s-s-sorry, your highness."
"You better be," the prince told him with a condescending tone, and then smiled evilly, "Did you like that little daydream?"
"This will be the last measurement and you are all done," the tailor hurried, avoiding his question at all cost.
"Good," Aleksander huffed in impatience, then pointed to Elys, "now hurry and scram after your done with this woman."
After less than half an hour, the tailor literally ran out of the manor like he was chased by hellhounds out for his soul.
"Do you think he would do as you told him to?" Elys asked curiously. "One more push and you would have had him wet his pants."
"He will," the prince answered with certainty, "And if not, I will have him killed, as well as every single member of his family. Women and children, old and young alike. No one will be spared."
Elys flinched for a second. The mention of merciless slaughter triggered her trauma, flashbacks of her pillaged kingdom playing through her head.
Her teeth ground, and her hands turned to fists.
"You will not kill anyone," Elys whispered through gritted teeth.
"Hm? Do you really think I won’t be able to do that?" Aleksander challenged her. "I had been in the shadows for so long, but it doesn’t mean I am not capable."
They were the only ones left in the drawing room now. As soon as the tailor scurried out of the manor, Henry had left to do chores and Cordelia went off to prepare Elys’ dinner.
The prince towered over Elys, taking slow steps towards her.
Elysianne stepped back in response, circling in a dangerous dance under the broken chandelier precariously hanging above them.
"Why don’t you take a drink of blood first," Elys said in an attempt to sidetrack the prince. "Come to think of it, how does this work for you? Twice, thrice a day like any regular meal? Henry seemed to have forgotten to explain the role to me."
The prince cocked his head as he stopped advancing on Elys. He chuckled, combed his fingers through his hair and then went off to a full-blown maniacal howling laugh.
"Look," Aleksander poked a finger on her chest, "don’t test me."
The princess fought the urge to throw him a punch. He had poked at her quite forcefully, and it didn’t sit well with her pride as someone who was used to being respected in her kingdom.
She took a deep breath to clear her head – Aleksander was a huge dick through and through.
"I am not," Elys feigned, "am I not more well-mannered compared to you, your highness? Is this what you will show the royalties, your father, back at the palace once we attend the ball?"
"Of course not," Aleksander scowled, "you will shut your mouth throughout the whole event and I will hold my head high."
Elys shook her head.
"Do you think a submissive wife would impress them? That is so common. If not to laugh at you due to my past being a slave, wouldn’t a wise and learned wife be more of a slap to the face?" the princess said.
Aleksander pondered over the princess’ suggestion. He shifted his weight to his other leg, leaned over and tried to intimidate Elys with his overbearing aura.
"Do you even know anything about high court etiquette and how vampire aristocracy works to be even suggesting that?" he mocked. "You are nothing but a slave. You know nothing."
"You don’t know me," Elys smiled cunningly, her pretty lips stretching into an elegant smile, "I am a fast learner. Would you care to teach me the ways of the Western Kingdom, Prince Aleksander Ardorlean?"
The prince grabbed Elys’ arm, pulling her closer and swiping the sleeve to bare her pale skin. He could hear the blood travelling in her veins, how it rushed from her pumping heart – fresh and warm blood.
"At first I had though you were just one feisty slave whose mouth ran amok," he said, "but why, slave? Why do you seem like you are hiding something? Something... important."
"I thought you had no interest in me, your highness?" Elys clapped back at him, "If I hold back information from you, know that it is only a reflection of your treatment towards me. If you would be more hospitable, I would have felt obliged to open up more."
Aleksander scoffed; disbelief painted on his face at the audacity of the woman in front of him.
"Why would I even do that? You came as a slave, I will treat you as such," he replied. "And aren’t you my blood servant? This is how I treat food for your information."
Elys stared blankly as the prince instantly bared his fangs. The sharp incisors nicked at her skin, the pale surface bleeding rapidly with the puncture. Within a blink of an eye, Aleksander ravenously drank.
She didn’t wince, nor did she gasp as she would have when he first bit her several hours ago.
But under her strong demeanor, the sensation of both his lips and tongue on her skin made the princess heady.