Mated To The Cruel Prince novel Chapter 521

Chapter 521: Scared Of What She Was Becoming

Valerie was completely absorbed in examining his face in the mirror, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, so much so that he didn’t notice Islinda’s approach until she spoke.

"It’s that bad, right?"

Startled, Valerie nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice behind him. He turned to face her, momentarily taken aback by her proximity. He could see the worry etched into her features, mirrored in her wide eyes as she awaited his response.

"No," Valerie replied defensively, his tone firm as he refused to let Islinda shoulder the guilt for the incident. "You were struggling in your dreams. It’s not just you. I must have clawed myself in the process," he claimed, attempting to ease her worries and absolve her of any responsibility.

But Islinda saw through his attempt to shield her from blame and couldn’t bear the thought of him taking responsibility for what she had done.

"Valerie, I—" Islinda began, her voice filled with urgency as she sought to address the situation head-on.

"I think I got blood on myself," Valerie swiftly interrupted her, his tone deflective as he glanced down at his stained tunic. "I’ll have to go and clean up. You should do the same, then come down for breakfast. I’m sure you’re starving," he suggested, before abruptly leaving the room, effectively cutting off any chance for Islinda to respond.

Left alone, Islinda sighed heavily, her heart weighed down by a mix of guilt and frustration. She knew deep down that Valerie was only covering up for her out of love, and he had no evidence to suggest otherwise. But Islinda knew she had been the one who clawed him. Now Valerie was going to begin to suspect her. The gods help her, why was her life so complicated?

With a heavy heart, Islinda lowered her gaze to her trembling hands, the very hands that had inflicted pain upon Valerie. A pang of guilt twisted in her chest as she traced her fingers, noticing a smear of crimson staining her hand. It dawned on her that this blood must have come from Valerie when she clawed his face.

Normally, Islinda would have dismissed the blood without a second thought, washing it away without hesitation. But this time was different. A peculiar sensation stirred within her as she stared, fixated on the crimson hue, her throat tightening with an unexpected thirst. With a trembling hand, she brought her finger closer to her lips, feeling an inexplicable urge to taste the metallic tang of the blood. It was a bizarre impulse, one that both fascinated and unnerved her, but she couldn’t resist the strange pull compelling her to indulge in this forbidden desire.

With a jolt, Islinda snapped out of it, her mind reeling with disbelief at the disturbing thought that had momentarily consumed her.

"No!" she exclaimed aloud, her voice trembling with a mix of horror and confusion.

But despite her firm resolve, her gaze involuntarily drifted back to her hand, and she felt a lump form in her throat as she swallowed hard. Veins protrude against her skin, a visible manifestation of her internal struggle against this inexplicable craving. It felt like she would die if she didn’t have a taste, the notion sending shivers down her spine as she grappled with the overwhelming urge.

That was impossible. That made no sense. She was not some demon. That was someone else’s memory planted in her head. If she was a demon, she would know. Yet, as Islinda battled the turmoil within her, her gaze was drawn once more to the mirror, and what she saw there caused her breath to hitch in her throat. fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

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