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We eat in silence for a while. The only sound is our forks clinking against plates as we savor the rich flavors.
"Tell me about your family," he says, breaking the silence. "Are they still alive?" He spears a bite of meat on his fork and pops it into his mouth before raising his eyes to me, waiting for me to answer.
His question catches me off guard, a sudden intrusion into thoughts I no longer allow myself to think. It makes my heart pound frantically against my ribcage, thinking of what became of them. My family. Images of faces I'm afraid time has erased flash behind my eyelids. Do they still exist outside the confines of my memory?
"I don't know if they're alive," I respond timidly. My voice cracks with deep sadness as it echoes through the empty hallways of memories. Saying it out loud feels like tearing open a wound long gone numb. Before the auction house, they were everything to me - laughter and warmth on cold nights, safety in uncertain times. But those days seem so far away now.
"Look at me," he commands, and I reluctantly meet his platinum gaze. There is something compelling about him, something that goes beyond the rebellious facade that others speak of. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if he knows what it means to lose everything.
"Because I might be able to help." He turns from me then as though the offer costs him more than I can comprehend.
"Help?" I echo, disbelief sharpens my voice. How could this dark elf, who seems so entrenched in a life of careless indulgence, offer me anything but false hope?
"Give me their information," he says, his back to me now, his voice firm. "If they're still alive, I will find them. I promise you this."
The chill seeps through my skin, but his words ignite a fire within me that wards off the cold. I look up at Karul. His platinum hair nearly glows in the dim light, a contrast to the dark shadows that play across his face. His scar, a jagged line on his neck, is a testament to his strength, to his survival.
"Thank you," I breathe out, and it's as if those two words carry the weight of the chains I've been bound by. My heart hammers against my ribs, hope blossoming in my chest. "Thank you so much."
Karul's gaze holds mine, intense and penetrating. "Jasmine," he says, his voice a low thrum that vibrates through the air, "Don't be awkward around me. You need to act as though you love me." He pauses, watching for my reaction. "In return, I will search for your family. Can you do that?" He waits for me to answer, watching as I silently mull over his offer.
His proposition hangs between us, a lifeline thrown into tumultuous waters. The gravity of what he's offering—and what he's asking—sinks into me.
His power over me is not lost on me. He could easily command me to do so and be done with it. Yet here he stands, making a deal instead of issuing an order. I’ve never been treated this way, and niceties are not exactly commodities women of my station often receive.
"Of course, I can do that," I say. The words are laced with an overwhelming sense of gratitude that floods through me. My anxiety begins to fade, and the unexpectedness of his offer lingers over me. He might have really meant it when he claimed to be unlike the other men. None of them would offer to find my family.
Karul nods, showing a flicker of approval in his eyes. "Good." He steps closer, and I feel the heat radiating from his body.
I nod, swallowing hard. The thought of seeing my family again after all these years fills me with fierce determination. I will do whatever it takes. For them. For my freedom. And maybe, just maybe, for this enigmatic dark elf who defies every expectation.
"Just promise me you'll try," he urges, his eyes searching mine for any trace of doubt.
A shiver runs through me, not from fear but from an unfamiliar kind of excitement. The platinum-haired dark elf before me holds the power to command armies, to break spirits with a single word, yet he offers a choice—a partnership. "I will do my best," I assure him earnestly, my eyes shining not just with gratitude but with something else, something deeper. A spark of hope ignites within me, bright and hot against the cold backdrop of my enslaved existence.
The honey cakes arrive for dessert as promised. They’re sweet and sticky on our tongues. I can't help but smile as I take a bite, remembering simpler times. "Thank you," I murmur once again between mouthfuls.
We continue to talk, exchanging stories of our pasts over sweet treats. I realize that Karul is not what he seems at first glance - there's more depth to him than his cold exterior suggests. Yet danger still lurks beneath the surface like hot coals under snow.
My heart races with every glance he gives me; his eyes are fireflies in the darkness of his soul.
7
KARUL
“Was the food to your liking?” I wonder as the dishes are cleared from the table.
Jasmine merely nods, keeping her head down.
She has been silent since I offered to find her family. I understand the situation I’ve brought her into, and though I purchased her for my own needs, I meant what I said. I’m not like the other men. I truly have no interest in owning a sex slave. Though I must admit there is a level of excitement running through me, knowing in just a few short moments, I will be taking Jasmine into the bedroom.
The blood rushes south, and I’m forced to discreetly adjust myself. I’m not a brute, and I don't intend to scare her. I call the servants to clear the table, and Jasmine looks up at me. The nervousness swirls in her movements. She’s fidgety and keeps wringing her hands in her lap.
"Let's go to bed,” I say gently.
"As you wish," she says, her words a timid whisper.
I bring her into the bedroom by hand, my heart silently racing. She is filled with a palpable tension, one that I hope I can help ease away.
