Secret Ingredient

A whirlwind of emotions stirred inside Visenya as she stood frozen at Lucian's door. Anger coursed through her veins, fueled by his brash demeanor towards her. At the same time, a deep sense of hurt gnawed at her self-esteem. Was she truly that off-putting? She had never considered herself unattractive.

Caspian found her appealing enough to desperately want her as his wife. But then again, perhaps Lucian simply had different tastes – like licentious tramps who were all too eager to please their captor. In that case, to hell with what he thought about her, she told herself. Firmly concluding that those types of women were precisely what Lucian deserved.

"Stupid dragon," she muttered under her breath before storming off.

Unbeknownst to Visenya, Lucian stood on the other side of the door, waiting for her departure. He clenched his fists, restraining himself from swinging the door open and daring her to call him a 'stupid dragon' to his face. He caught the glimpse of rage in Visenya's eyes when she witnessed the blonde exiting his bedchamber. Though she quickly masked it, Lucian couldn't help but revel in her jealousy.

Perhaps, he would summon all the other women slaves into his bedchamber, one by one, just to emphasize how unwanted Visenya truly was. Fueled by his own bitterness, he lashed out, kicking the small table next to his chair, shattering its wooden legs on impact.

He slumped into the chair, glaring at his swollen manhood, all while denying that it wasn't just his body reacting to Visenya. In the past, he had a tendency to select promiscuous slaves who possessed only a couple of functioning brain cells and were far from subtle in their eagerness to please him.

Those types had always been the most fun to play with, in his opinion, but he surely wasn't blind, and he would be lying to himself if he said he never took a good, thorough look at Visenya.

Her features were undeniably distinct, even bordering on exotic. But it wasn't just her appearance that set her apart. It was the way she carried herself, exuding an air of class, elegance, and pristine beauty. And that was precisely what irked him from the very beginning.

He was certain that Visenya was fully aware of her status, both politically and physically. It was this knowledge that fueled his anger towards her that fateful night on Tarragon Mountain.

She rejected his advances, acting as if she were superior to him and capable of finding someone better. So now, he just had to make it a point to show her that she wasn’t as impressive as she thought she was.

That’s the story he told himself, anyway, even though he was currently stroking himself to the thought of her for the third time that afternoon. He would give in to it, of course, claiming it was just the mate bond making him do it and nothing more.

In the kitchen, Visenya stood, gazing at the lunch she had prepared for Lucian. She picked up the fork and knife, eagerly cutting into the tantalizing bison meat. Weeks of near-starvation had left her yearning for sustenance, scavenging for whatever food she could find throughout the day.

Lucian persisted in his attempts to dominate her, hoping she’d cave in and eat like a dog, but she would never grant him the satisfaction. She had noticed her weight loss, and Delilah was constantly begging her to eat in her wolf form, but that type of Lycan behavior was archaic. Maybe centuries ago, it was an ordinary thing to do, but Lycans had evolved significantly since those ancient times.

Visenya placed the cut of bison meat in her mouth, only to discover that it was dry and tasteless. She quickly spit it out in disappointment. Frustrated, she impulsively tossed the entire tray of food onto the floor, causing the dishes to shatter into pieces at her feet.

Realizing it wasn't the wisest decision, she now had to clean up the mess she had made. Letting out a groan of vexation, she grabbed the broom and dustpan to start the task. Meanwhile, Josiah stealthily entered the kitchen, relieved to find her alone.

"Josiah?" She called out in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought..."

"My Queen," he interrupted, his tone urgent. "I must be brief... I just wanted to give you this." Josiah handed her a small jar filled with an enticing assortment of spices.

"This is exactly what you need for a flavorful pot of stew," he explained. "Fill the pot halfway with water and add this concoction of spices. Then, add a pound of bison cuts, three sliced potatoes, one cup of diced squash, and two cups of sliced carrots. Let it boil for forty-five minutes, and I guarantee you'll have one pleased Dragon Lord."

"Thank you, Josiah," Visenya said, her voice filled with gratitude as she flashed a relieved smile.

"My Queen, I implore you... please refrain from tasting the stew," he pleaded with a sense of urgency.

Visenya's brows furrowed in confusion at Josiah's peculiar request.

"The stew contains a spice that can cause severe stomach discomfort for humans and Lycans, but dragons have an insatiable fondness for it," he explained.

"Oh... I understand," she replied, a mix of surprise and gratitude evident in her voice. "I appreciate you informing me of this, and once again, thank you for your help."

"It is my utmost pleasure, My Queen," Josiah gazed at her with his one gleaming eye before swiftly vanishing from sight.

When it was time to prepare Lucian's dinner, Visenya meticulously followed Josiah's instructions to make the stew. She couldn't contain her excitement, as the aroma wafting from the pot was simply marvelous. Finally, she had managed to cook something truly delicious. Despite her eagerness to taste it, Visenya reminded herself of Josiah's warning.

Right on schedule, Lucian entered the dining room and took his seat at the table, accompanied by his lackey, Cylis, who occupied the opposite end. With a humble demeanor, Visenya emerged from the kitchen, carrying Lucian's dinner, trying her best not to appear overly proud. She placed the steaming bowl in front of him, silently hoping for a positive reaction.

To her astonishment, Lucian's expression didn't mirror the one she had anticipated. His eyebrows furrowed, forming a deep frown as he stared down at the bowl of stew.

"Who cooked this?" Lucian fumed, his voice dripping with anger.

"I did, Master," Visenya responded, her voice trembling.

He raised his eyes to her in a furious glare. "Then tell me... what spices did you use for this stew?"

Visenya's heart raced in her chest as she gulped nervously. She silently berated herself for not asking Josiah about the spices, but she never anticipated being interrogated.

"I... I don't remember," she stammered, her words only further infuriating him.

"Cylis?" Lucian called out.

"Yes, Dragon Lord?" Cylis replied.

"Go and fetch me that one-eyed stable boy, and gather all of the slaves here in the dining room," Lucian commanded, his gaze still fixed on Visenya.

"Yes, My Lord," Cylis acknowledged, quickly leaving the room to carry out his orders.

As Cylis rushed out to do as he was told, Visenya trembled under Lucian’s hard, cold stare.

“I’m going to give you a chance to redeem yourself, mutt,” Lucian said, his voice dripping with reproach. “I don’t think I made it clear to you that I will not tolerate liars. So, I’m going to ask you again… who cooked this?”

Visenya's heart raced as she replied, "I cooked it, Master... I'm telling you the truth."

“You’re lying!” He shouted, his anger reverberating through the room as he banged his fist against the table.

Visenya's anxiety tightened its grip on her, making her feel sick to her stomach. She shook her head, vehemently denying his accusations, while tears welled up in her eyes.

Just as the tension reached its peak, Cylis waltzed back in with all of the slaves, as if on cue. Lucian stood up, his imposing figure casting a shadow over Josiah. With each step, he closed in on him, his presence suffocating. Josiah trembled with fear, unable to meet Lucian's gaze, his eye darting away in avoidance.

"You prepared the stew," Lucian said to Josiah, more as a statement than a question. Josiah remained still, offering no response.

"I already told you, Master... it was me," Visenya alleged, her voice filled with desperation.

"You just earned yourself one night in the hole!" Lucian condemned her, his fury seeping through his words.

Visenya began crying, unable to comprehend why Lucian was behaving like a raged maniac.

Lucian shifted his attention back to Josiah. "Did you make that stew?"

"He didn't..." Visenya insisted. "I did..."

"That's two nights in the hole!" Lucian's voice thundered.

Visenya began openly sobbing at this point, and all of the slaves watched the scene completely bewildered.

"I didn't cook it, but I did provide my Queen with the spices and instructed her on how to prepare it," Josiah finally confessed. "My intention was simply to assist and ensure that you had a pleasant meal."

Lucian's hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly as he struggled to contain his rage. "So, you wanted me to have a pleasant meal, huh? Were you doing me a favor, or were you doing her a favor?"

"Her... I mean you! I mean both of you, of course. I wanted to help my Queen as well," Josiah explained anxiously.

"Yes, because you love YOUR Queen... don't you?" Lucian’s tone dripped with mockery.

Josiah nodded vigorously. "She was an exceptional Queen… during her reign."

"An exceptional Queen, huh?" Lucian scoffed. "If she was truly as great as you claim, she would have surely educated you on the art of dragon slaying. So, go on... ask your esteemed Queen over there how one kills a dragon."

Josiah's eyes widened with panic as he looked upon a visibly perplexed Visenya, his heart pounding in his chest. "How..." Josiah's voice quivered with trepidation. "How does one kill a dragon, My Queen?"

A heavy silence hung in the air as Visenya's gaze met Josiah's. "You can't..." Visenya finally spoke, her voice low and somber. "A dragon has only one weakness, and it no longer exists in this world."

Josiah trembled like a leaf, his body paralyzed by the harsh reality that had just shattered his illusions. In a fit of rage, Lucian seized Josiah by the throat and forcefully slammed him onto the table. With a cruel and calculated gesture, Lucian snatched the bowl of stew and poured the scalding liquid down Josiah's throat, causing him to scream in agony and beg for mercy.

Visenya and the other slaves gasped in horror, their eyes wide with disbelief at the gruesome scene unfolding before them. Many of them instinctively covered their eyes, unable to bear witness to the brutal act. Within moments, Josiah's body started convulsing on the floor, foam spewing from his mouth.

It was then that Visenya realized Josiah had deceived her into attempting to poison Lucian. The realization dawned on her with a chilling clarity. It didn't take long for Josiah's convulsions to cease completely, leaving him lifeless on the cold, unforgiving ground.

"Remove this worthless carcass from my sight, and let it serve as a lesson to all of you!" Lucian's warning echoed through the air, prompting the slaves to swiftly gather Josiah's lifeless body.

Lucian's gaze then locked onto Visenya, his predatory instincts taking over as he advanced towards her. She instinctively took several hurried steps backward until her back pressed against the unyielding wall.

With a merciless force, Lucian yanked the chain of her collar, causing Visenya to collapse onto her knees and emit a pained squeal. "Didn't you smell the nettle moss, you pitiful excuse for a wolf?!" Lucian berated her.

"I'm sorry... I've never encountered nettle moss before," she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Of course you haven't! You've lived your entire life as a fucking pampered princess, haven't you?!" Lucian's words lashed out, intensifying Visenya's anguish.

"Get up! You're going to the hole!" He ordered.

Visenya shook her head frantically, her sobs intensifying as she pleaded with him not to carry out such a cruel punishment.

"I said, get up!" he commanded, but she still wouldn't budge.

With a swift motion, he seized her collar chain once again, forcefully yanking her to her feet. Despite his demand, she stubbornly resisted, causing him to tighten his grip on the chain. The spikes of her collar cruelly pierced her delicate neck, drawing droplets of crimson.

In that moment, he struggled to determine what infuriated him more: her defiance or the self-inflicted harm she brought upon herself. He immediately let go of the chain and shifted his grasp to her waist, effortlessly lifting her and carrying her towards the looming hole, as she thrashed and screamed in protest.