Bound to her Captor

And your brothers?" Daresh asked quietly. "They just... let him do that to you?"

Reina scoffed, a bitter sound. "They were worse. My brother said I was just a woman-only good for money, a bargaining chip. He said I was good for nothing." Her voice hardened. "They all despised me. Except my mother."

"My mother..." Reina's voice broke.

A tear trickled down her face.

"She kicked and cried and protested when my father tried to sell me. And my father-he slapped her. So violently I shook just watching." Reina's hands trembled at the memory. "That's when I swore I'd never be a slave to any man. I'd never marry anyone who treated me like less than human."

Her voice cracked.

"I just miss my mother. I want to know if she's okay. She's been through so much. It's not fair to her. It's not-"

She couldn't finish.

Reina broke down crying.

Daresh watched her quietly, something twisting painfully in his chest.

Guilt.

She'd been through so much. And he had contributed to her pain. His army had destroyed her kingdom. Taken her mother. Enslaved her.

She was sobbing now, and she looked so small. So vulnerable.

He'd grown up in a place where people boxed up their emotions, where everyone was strict and cold. He didn't know how to react to tears. Didn't know how to comfort someone.

But without thinking, he moved.

He scooped her into his arms and pulled her against his chest, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

And somehow-surprisingly-it worked.

She leaned into him, her sobs quieting.

And it felt right. Like he belonged here. In her arms. Holding her.

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said quietly, his voice rough. "I'll help you find her. I promise."

A mother.

The word echoed in Daresh's mind.

He'd never known his mother.

His thoughts drifted back-back to when he was little. A young boy, not above ten years old.

FLASHBACK:

The Demon King had invited all the princes and their mothers to dinner. A rare occasion. A family gathering.

They sat side by side at the long table-each prince next to his mother.

Except Daresh.

He sat at the end of the table. The seat next to him was empty.

Callum spoke first. He was a few years older than Daresh and took particular pleasure in tormenting him. It hadn't always been that way. When they were both younger-below the age of five-they'd been best friends.

But then Daresh's hair had turned silver.

And rumors spread through the castle: forbidden child.

After that, Callum's mother had pulled him away. Told him not to play with Daresh anymore.

The King-Daresh's father-had always neglected him. The maids cast him ugly glances wherever he went. His only solace had been his swordsmanship.

So at an incredibly early age, Daresh had started learning to fight.

He was a fast learner. His skills were impeccable-far beyond what anyone expected from a child his age.

Callum's mother had clearly seen him as competition, because she'd pushed Callum into the training yard too. But no matter how hard Callum tried, he was never nearly as good as Daresh.

And that had only made things worse.

"Having dinner alone, white hair?" Callum said with a mean smirk. "Where's your mother?"

The other brothers laughed.

Daresh felt like disappearing.

He remembered another time-years earlier. He and his brothers had gone to welcome their father home from war. Daresh had followed them eagerly, excited to see the King.

His father had hugged each brother with smiles and warmth.

Until it was Daresh's turn.

The smile had disappeared from the King's face. Replaced instantly with a look of irritation.

He'd barely acknowledged Daresh at all.

Daresh had been a hurt child. Sad. Lonely.

He'd never known love. Never been shown compassion.

He was raised by the soldiers he spent his evenings with. At an early age, he'd been forced to bottle up his emotions, to show no signs of weakness.

The Captain of the Guard had been certain he'd make a great soldier one day.

And he had.

But at what cost?

He remembered another day.

His brothers and their friends had ganged up on him-cornered him in the training yard. They'd thrown him into a fire pit.

Not just any fire. The red fire-a mysterious, ancient flame that could burn even fire demons. Only the most terrible criminals were thrown into it. Some were left there to die.

Daresh had been terrified.

But even then, even as a child surrounded by flames that ate at his skin, he'd fought back. Defended himself.

He'd injured his brother Pierre in the process-broken his arm, maybe his ribs.

Pierre's mother had wailed and screamed, dragging her son to the King. She'd made such a fuss, crying about how Daresh was a monster, how he'd attacked her innocent boy unprovoked.

Daresh had tried to tell his side of the story.

But it fell on deaf ears.

The King had locked him in the dungeon as punishment. No trial. No questions.

Just... punishment.

That was when Daresh had first thought about ending it all.

One day, he'd wandered deep into the bowels of the castle and found it-a little underground pool hidden beneath the stone floors.

He didn't know what had drawn him there.

Maybe it was the water's extraordinary silver shimmer-like his hair.

Maybe it was the way it glowed faintly blue-like the flames in his eyes.

But either way, he'd felt... warmth from it.

Like a mother's embrace.

Like a long-lost love yet to be unlocked.

And he'd wanted to jump in. To risk his life. To unlock whatever secrets lay beneath that shimmering surface.

He knew the consequences. Fire demons couldn't survive magical water. They'd die.

But Daresh didn't care.

He had nothing to live for anyway.

He stood at the edge of the pool, staring down into the blue-silver depths.

Just jump. End it. The pain will stop.

He leaned forward-

And strong arms yanked him back by his shirt.

A familiar, unfriendly voice growled behind him. A dangerous aura pressed down on him like a physical weight.

His father.

The King was furious. Daresh could see it in his eyes-those cold, burning eyes that had never once looked at him with love.

He said nothing.

Just ordered Daresh dragged away.

This time, the punishment was worse.

They threw him into the fire again-held him there while his father watched.

The pain was unlike anything he'd ever felt. His skin burned. His bones ached. Every nerve in his body screamed.

But Daresh didn't make a sound.

Didn't beg. Didn't cry.

He just... endured.

Part of him wanted it to end. Wanted the fire to consume him completely so he wouldn't have to feel anything anymore.

When they finally pulled him out, his father ordered water poured over the burns.

Salt in the wounds.

Daresh walked out of that punishment room with his skin charred and blistered, his eyes burning a fierce, furious red.

He climbed to the top of the castle.

And he jumped.

"DARESH, NO!"

A shriek tore through his thoughts, yanking him violently back to the present.

"Don't kill yourself! NO, DARESH!"

It was Reina's voice-terrified, desperate.

It was the first time she'd ever called him by his name.

He blinked, disoriented, his heart pounding.

She was staring at him with wide, horrified eyes, tears streaming down her face.

"You-you were going to jump," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I saw it. I saw everything. The fire. Your father. You were just a child-"

Daresh's breath caught.

She saw his memories.

How was that possible?

Only mates could share memories. And he'd always thought that was a myth. A fairy tale demons told each other.

But she'd seen it. Seen everything.

His chest tightened. Panic clawed at him.

He didn't know how to process this. Didn't know what it meant.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor.

And without a word, he turned and stormed out.