CHAPTER 1.

Danika huddled down in her empty, cold cell. She had been there for one week and craved to be outside...or anywhere—anywhere at all that wasn’t the cold barren space. Time seemed to have become lost to her while trapped in the cells, consumed by her thoughts and the memories that plagued her.

Only one bunk bed occupied the side of the room. Danika hadn't seen her captor in the past week, and that was the time he walked up to her, staring at her with the coldest eyes she had ever seen. Never in her life had she felt fear stronger than when she looked into those dark depths, filled with depravity to go with the sinister smile that graced his lips.

He had stopped right before her, with calculating eyes that promised a world of anguish and pain. Danika had prayed he’d just end her, she knew whatever he had in store for her would only inflict the worst kind of pain. But when she realised his intentions were not to kill her, any hope of freedom faded away. 

He reached long, calloused fingers toward her. Those same fingers grazed her neck and made the unsettling coldness she felt inside envelope her completely. He wanted revenge. Revenge for something she had no part in. Danika knew pleading that would do her no good. This man only saw the evil of her father, not the broken woman that stands before him. 

 The hard, cold metal clamped around her throat, metal dug into her delicate skin.. He had collared her. Only then did it truly settle in with the harshest clarity of what she was to become him. His slave. His property, he'd called her.

He admired his handy work, his fingers grazed the cold biting metal, and he smiled, triumphantly. 

A chill went down Danika's arms. She had never seen such raw hatred in anybody's eyes. King Lucien hated her. Danika knew the reason more than anybody. Oh, did she know.

One week ago, she was Princess Danika, daughter of King Cone of Mombana. She was feared and respected. No one dared look at her twice. You wouldn’t dare look her in the eyes. You wouldn’t dare walk the path she walked unless you had no value for your life. Her father saw to that.

Now, her father was dead, their kingdom taken over by the ruthless King Lucien. That day had replayed on her mind relentlessly, adding to the torture of this cell, making it feel that much colder, that much lonelier.

The sound of footsteps and chains rattling drew Danika's attention towards the door of the cell. The door opened, and a bodyguard entered, carrying a tray of food. Danika stared at the man drinking in his every feature, from the dark sinister color of his uniform, to the blade at his hip. A blade she had often waited over the past week to be used on her. Only it never was.

He may not be King Lucien, but this man’s ill attempt at hiding his lust filled gaze did not go unnoticed by her, she could feel his leering eyes on her, watching her, someone was always watching in silence, from where she did not know, but she would sometimes be pulled from tumultuous thoughts to the door opening and closing. Danika's stomach rumbled, hunger coursing through her and reminding her that this was her first meal since morning, and it suspiciously looked like evening now.

“Here's your food, Priiiincess.” The guard stretched the syllable in disgust. Everyone there hated her; Danika knew that much. She raised her chin defiantly, saying nothing.“The king will be here in a few hours. Be ready to receive him,” he announced with a dark chuckle. He drops the tray next to her with no care. The hot contents scalding her cold skin as it splashes her. Danika only offers a glare to the guard, refusing to let him know how much the hot liquid burned her. Not receiving the reaction he sought, the guard sneered before walking away.

Fear slid through her. She wasn't ready to face her captor yet. But it had been one week, and Danika knew it was inevitable.

When The guard leaves her to her solitude, she wipes a stray tear, and uses the hem of her dress to wipe her arms down and her legs. The soup was piping hot and now left discarded on the hard concrete floor. Danika looks at the bowl tipped on the tray with barely a mouthful left. The stale piece of bread that sat beside it however offered the nutrients she needed, and she knew she couldn’t pass it up. Danika knew she would need her strength for what was to come, so she would take what she can get.

Two hours later, the sun was almost down when Danika heard footsteps followed by, “The king has arr—”

“Do not announce me, Chad,” came the curt reply that sent chills down Danika's arms. In all her twenty-one years of life, she never heard a voice so cold. Never feared a voice more than his.

“I apologize, my king,” Chad quickly said.

Sounds of chains...and then, the door was thrown open. Only the king entered because Danika heard just one almost-unheard footstep. The door closed behind him. Each sound of his steps made her heart beat quicken, as he drew nearer and made dread settle deep within her. He was here. The one person she feared more than her father was coming to see her.

Suddenly, her cold, barren cell was no longer so...barren. She raised her eyes and stared at him with her own hatred for him in her eyes. He was big like a warrior, but he had the bearing of a king. Danika knew he was thirty-five years old and larger than life itself. Even when he was in slavery for her father, that regality was almost present around him, no matter how much he had been beaten—how much he had been tortured.