That Prince Is A Girl The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate novel Chapter 239

That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate Chapter 239

Daemonikai had tried not to push him into talking over the years, but seeing all this pain in Ottai’s eyes tugged at his heartstrings.

“I have no idea what I would have done if I’d lost Morina too,” Ottai shook his head. “The thought alone tears me apart. I can’t pretend to understand what you’ve gone through, but I selfishly wish… I wish you wouldn’t leave us.” He took a shaky breath, steadying himself. “Don’t leave us, Daemon.”

“I won’t,” Daemonikai vowed, surprising even himself.

It was the first time he had said it aloud, and for once, he truly meant it.

Pushing the shadows of grief aside, he spoke clearly, each word a promise. “Not anymore. I’m here to stay.”

“Good, that’s good,” Ottai said, nodding in relief.

Daemonikai expected to be released then, but instead, he was squeezed tighter.

“Now, suffer through this one last hug.”

Daemonikai let out a dramatic, insufferable sigh but didn’t resist. “You do realize you’re a full- grown male now? No longer that little slip of a lad who followed me everywhere three millennia ago?”

Ottai shrugged, unfazed. "Yeah, well, I still need a good hug every now and then."

“No, what you need is to grow up,” Daemonikai retorted with amusement.

Ottai had always been the 'baby' of their group. Not only was he the youngest, but Daemonikai and Vladya had been present at his birth.

He had attached himself to Daemonikai’s side, following him everywhere as a youngling. It was safe to say Daemonikai had helped raise him.

And some things never changed. Ottai was, and always had been, a notorious cuddle-slut.

Three and a half millennia hadn’t lessened that one bit.

With a defeated sigh, Daemonikai relaxed against the cushions, allowing Ottai to cling to him.

"Fine, you may continue molesting me."

“Oh, stop complaining, Ancient One.” Ottai chuckled. "You know you like this.”

He did, though Daemonikai never admit it. The closeness, the ease, felt like old times.

Before the pain, before the deaths. Before life had dealt them all a hard blow.

Just like old times.

•••••••••• At long last, Ottai pulled back, straightening his robes and making a half-hearted attempt to tame his mussed hair. A sly, wolfish grin spread across his face. “Thanks, Papa Daemon. I needed that."

“You really are still Bratty Little Tee, aren’t you?" Daemonikai pursed his lips, shaking his head.

"Beneath all those heavy robes and titles, you’re still the same young lad who used to run away from his nurses, butt naked, from Mabblewood all the way to Frostfall, clutching his clothes for me to help him put them on.”

“You know it.” Ottai replied with a shrug, his grin widening.

“Brat.” Daemonikai muttered, though a fond smile tugged at his lips.

Then, a thought crossed his mind, and his expression shifted slightly. “Have you heard from Vladya? He returns tonight, doesn’t he?”

“Oh yes, we expect them any minute,” Ottai was excited. “I'm thrilled he's returning to the fortress. Everything is finally falling back into place, and—”

A sudden commotion from outside pulled both their attention.

Daemonikai rose, striding to the window. He peered down, scanning the lands below. “What’s happening out there?”

Ottai moved to join him. “Perhaps our people are holding one of their celebrations—”