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A Slave To The Evil Count

The story had gore, twisted relationships and dark thoughts. It is not suitable for kids. And instead of romance, more twisted desires and revenge had filled the book. You have been warned. There is a thin line between love and hate, who knew when it started to fade between us. Earl of Gravestone is the most dangerous man of the WhiteThrone Empire. Not because he is strong enough to kill them without thinking twice. But he deals in secrets. Secrets that could destroy the peace standing on the thin ice sheets over a flooding river. But he had not gotten all this wrapped up as a gift by his family. He had earned it. Earned to show that one woman that he was worth choosing. To show that he was strong and loved. and he definitely had forgotten her after she left him for another man. Except that… he did not. He was still clutched by her memories to the limit that it hurt him when he breathed. So what would happen if the newest secret he found was…. Her husband was a traitor. If he wants, he could break her life. But would he? The deepening shadow of the crimes he had committed and the darkness within him wanted to devour her. But a tiny part that still remembered her love wanted to save her at the same time. Who would win in the end?

Fallen_meteor · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
63 Chs

A Confession

"You can not save a person, how will you save the land and thousands?" She regretted the words that left her mouth. 

"I have saved my lands from those hands, my lady. And I have saved every single person that asked for my help. To those who did not ask, i bear no responsibility.'' He spoke in such a calm voice as if she was the one making things complex when they were so simple to understand.

She was not his responsibility or he would have saved her. She wrapped her arms around her waist, disliking her own thoughts. 

Her father and brother did it to save her. They did not know the monster Philip was! And her mother, she was tied with her own responsibilities and the only man who could save her, only looked at her as his enemy. Suddenly she felt so lonely. As if she had nowhere to go and no one to lean on.

"But if you need help, you can ask my steward. He is a great planner and adviser. I must say I could not have given my land in better hands." he offered after a pause. She knew he did not need it. But he did.

"Would it have been different if I had asked for your help?" she whispered. When his eyes narrowed at her face, she added, "I would like to speak to your steward if I get the chance. I have so many things to learn." 

"You are learning yourself. How many women had studied the course of St Andrews?" she smiled reluctantly, the vision of the woman he was seeing had died long ago. No! She had been killed. She was no longer the woman who could appreciate scholars.

"Why did you choose another woman to work for you in the estate?" The reply struck a strange, sweet pain through her. He was giving her a chance to explain because he still believed that she would not do it by her choice. No, he believed that she could do anything he wanted in this state because she was the mistress here.

"Will you believe me if I say that I do not have free will here? Will you believe me if I inform you that my husband had tied me with many burdens as a woman should have from the start." his brows furrowed and he looked at her in bafflement. 

Yes, no one would believe that. How could one when he had been so kind to her in the public. When he had smiled at her at every chance as he served her meal personally. She would not believe herself too. 

He did not wait for her reply as he started walking again. Perhaps he knew that she did not have a reply. They came closer to the orchids she had talked about.

The sigh of a small wooden hut brought a smile on his face. "You have made those signs." The look on his face made her dizzy for a second. He looked too much like the boy she had met once in these kinds of dark woods. She was painting the signs that time too.

"Yes, it helps in getting on the right path. And the bright colors had always attracted the bees.

"There is a beehive in there?" The shock that registered on his face made her smile again. The look of pride that she carved for ages. It had never been offered by anyone else but him no matter how much time had passed. It reminded her how she had fallen in love with him.

But now what were they? He slipped between enmity and friendship. Desire and disgust and want and ignorance that it left her hanging just like that week when she had written him a letter asking for elopement. The reply never came. 

Would he reply now if she asked?

"You are thinking of entering there without any equipment." She was grateful for that raspy voice because it cut her from the thoughts.

She had brought him here for the purpose. No one would enter the beehive. Even if someone was following them, they have to wait here for their return. There, she would tell him all the truth and would not let him go until he accepted them.

She took a deep breath as she opened the door of the small hut. 

"There would have been a worker to give us our masks if you had not dismissed everyone. Why did you do that?" she asked as she entered and searched for the equipment they needed.

"To make sure there are no spies. Someone who brings the information in and out of the manor. I do not want your husband to know about our every step." he offered the truth without coating it with false lies.. As if she deserved to know the meaning of his actions. 

She offered him a mask in reply. If only he knew her husband was wiser than that. The maid he had thought was loyal was the mistress of her husband instead.

She was sure it was Polly who was passing him the news. But how? He must have kept an eye on all the servants.

Lenhart tied the mask with the ease of long practice. He must have tied the shield like that or has he been to beehives before?

She has visited for a long time here but her sweaty hands did not let her show such perfection. But the slippery fabric resisted her fingers this morning. She wondered at herself, at how fragile and ridiculous she had become, no better than an infant who played with clothes instead of wearing them.

A sigh came from the other side and suddenly he was an inch away from her. His soft breath touched her nape, making her dizzy at once.

The smell of woods. This was the forest she had carved for. His knuckles brushed her bare nape. The touch of his fingers was light, barely noticeable, but she felt it in the way her muscles seemed to unravel.