Free Web NovelChapter 8: I Am Pregnant With the Prince of Lust’s Child
Nathan / Seraphel
I pushed myself weakly up to my feet, my knees wobbling violently the exact second my full weight hit my legs.
"Goodness."
My ass felt like it had personally gone to war and lost miserably. I took one shaky step forward and immediately regretted my entire existence.
"This is not sexy anymore," I whimpered miserably to myself as tears prickled my eyes.
"This is a literal medical emergency."
Stumbling away from the edge of the corpse pit, I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest instinctively as the freezing air continued to brush against my exposed skin.
Instead of finding the interior of a grand palace corridor, my unsteady, limping steps dragged me straight into an expansive, overgrown forest.
The sky above was dark casting the entire wilderness into terrifying shadows. The cold ground bit into the soles of my bare feet, and every step over sharp twigs and jagged stones felt like needles piercing my skin.
I was so incredibly weak, my posture completely bent as I dragged my broken body forward, desperately trying to put as much distance as possible between myself and that horrific pit of death.
Then, through the eerie rustling of the wind, the faint melodic sound of rushing water echoed in the distance.
A spring.
I felt hopeful again, providing a sudden spark of adrenaline that forced my trembling legs to move faster. I crashed through the thick bushes and practically tumbled into a hidden clearing where a crystal-clear natural spring bubbled gently into a large pool.
Without a single second of hesitation, I submerged myself in the water, letting out a sharp, ragged gasp as the freezing temperature shocked my burning skin.
I scrambled to wash myself, frantically scrubbing at my arms, my chest, and my thighs, desperate to get rid of the dirt from the pit of death.
The water stung the raw, abused parts of my lower body, but the physical relief of being clean was worth the agony.
As the water turned slightly cloudy around me, my movements slowed down, and I sank deeper into the spring, my mind racing as I tried to figure out a logical way to escape this living nightmare.
How was I supposed to survive without a system? How could a modern human outsmart a world of divine, villainous predators?
Suddenly, a faint detail from the unread Chapters I had skipped flashed vividly in my memory. The lore of these dark fantasy novels was always bound by strict destiny rules. The story would only ever reach its ultimate conclusion when the main characters died.
A dark, desperate thought began to take root in my mind. If the story ends when the main characters die, then the quickest way out of this hellhole is to end it myself.
I just need to kill myself and take Azriel down with me.
If I destroy the Prince of Lust, the plot collapses, and maybe, just maybe, my soul will finally be released back to Earth.
Before I could fully formulate a plan for a double suicide, the snap of a heavy branch broke the silence of the forest.
My heart instantly hammered violently against my ribs. I turned my head toward the noise and saw the faint silhouettes of several people heading directly toward the spring.
Panic seized me.
I didn’t have any clothes, and if I was caught naked by locals or palace guards, I would be dragged right back to the slaughter.
Moving as silently as possible, I swam toward the edge of the pool where the dense bushes overhung the water, ducking my head beneath a cluster of thick leaves to hide myself completely from view.
A group of lower-class palace servants or workers entered the clearing, chatting casually as they began to strip off their loose, simple robes to bathe in the spring. They carelessly tossed their garments onto the grassy bank, completely oblivious to my presence.
This was my only chance, I thought.
Moving with quiet desperation, I crept out of the water, keeping my body low to the ground. My hand darted out from the shadows, wrapping around one of the discarded sets of clothes.
But as I pulled the tunic toward me, the rustling fabric caught the attention of one of the men who had just unbuttoned his shirt.
Our eyes met, and I let out a gasp.
"Hey! Who the fuck is that?!" the man shouted, his eyes widening in shock. "Someone is stealing our clothes!"
"Shit!" I yelled out loud.
Ignoring the immediate pain racking my lower half, I shoved my legs through the trousers and yanked the loose tunic over my head in an uncoordinated blur. The garments were oversized and chaotic, but they covered my bare skin.
The other men in the group who had not yet stripped down immediately reacted to their friend’s shout, their faces twisting in anger as they lunged toward the bank.
"Stop right there, thief!"
I didn’t wait to be caught. I spun on my heel and bolted into the trees, pushing through the thick underbrush with every ounce of strength left in my battered body.
"Catch him! Don’t let him get away!"
The angry shouts echoed right behind me as those who were still clothed started chasing me through the woods. The branches whipped against my face, and my lungs burned fiercely as I ran blindly, completely ignoring the white-hot agony tearing through my legs.
I could hear their heavy footsteps gaining on me, and the terror of being captured pushed my body past its absolute limits.
The dense trees suddenly gave way, and I burst out of the forest line, tumbling directly into the center of a chaotic, incredibly busy public street.
The sudden transition from the quiet woods to a loud, bustling thoroughfare dazed my senses. The road was packed with merchants, strange carriages, and citizens dressed in traditional kingdom attire.
I didn’t even have time to look around properly before a loud, aggressive neigh pierced the air right in front of me.
The heavy thud of massive hooves scraped violently against the dirt road as a grand, towering horse reared up in absolute panic, and its rider fiercely pulled back on the leather reins.
The animal stopped dead in the center of the road, its chest mere inches from slamming directly into my fragile body.
I fell backward onto the dirt, gasping for breath, staring up in utter horror at the massive beast that had almost crushed me to death.
Before I figured out what was happening, metal was placed against my neck.
Two royal guards moved with terrifying speed and pinned me flat against the ground. The crowd on the busy street instantly parted, drawing back in a tense, suffocating silence as the guards glared down at me with absolute disdain.
"Identify yourself, beggar," one of the guards barked, his voice booming over the rumble of the street. "What is a filthy peasant doing running blindly into the path of the royal envoy? Speak before we take your head right here."
My heart started racing so violently against my ribs that I thought it would burst. My throat dried up completely, and a suffocating panic paralyzed my vocal cords.
I opened my mouth, desperate to spin some kind of lie, to tell them that I was just some clumsy thief, but the words died in my mouth.
The chaotic noises of the bustling market street suddenly vanished, entirely drowned out by a thick, suffocating wave of powerful orchid scent that slammed into my senses.
It was an alpha’s pheromone laced with authority that made my newly awakened omega biology instinctively want to tremble and bow.
But it wasn’t just the overwhelming scent that made my blood run cold.
It was the way the guards had stepped back, lowering their weapons in immediate, rigid respect, as a tall, imposing man stepped into my field of vision.
He wore a magnificent dark warrior silk robe, a rare, heavily armored fabric intricately woven with protective spiritual runes that glowed.
My eyes widened when I recognized the runes, knowing who it was, and out of curiosity, I looked up, my breath catching in my throat as my gaze traveled up the broad chest and finally locked onto a pair of calculating hazel eyes.
My eyes widened, and I gasped as I recognized the hazel eyes and the distinctive warrior silk robe from the detailed descriptions I had read back in my dorm.
This was Malachi. The fiercely lethal, ruthlessly competent, and completely unshakeable personal bodyguard of Azriel. The one man who was completely loyal to the Prince of Lust and the very person responsible for cleaning up the prince’s darkest messes.
"Speak," Malachi commanded.
His voice was just as expected. A low, resonant baritone that carried the chilling weight of absolute authority.
He didn’t shout, but the coldness of his tone made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. His sharp hazel eyes pinned me to the dirt, making my heart rise and fall.
Then I started spiraling.
My mind spun into a chaotic, screaming panic.
I knew exactly who this man was.
In the skipped Chapters of The Book of Lust, Malachi wasn’t just a regular bodyguard; he was widely feared across the entire kingdom as "The Slayer." He was Azriel’s personal shadow, a ruthless executioner who cut down threats, rebels, and discarded omegas without a single shred of mercy.
If he realized I was a runaway from the corpse pit, he would slice my throat open right here in the middle of the street and have my body dragged back to the pile before the sun could even set.
I was going to die.
A brutal, ruthless, unholy death.
Think, Nathan, think! my brain screamed, desperately hunting for a survival mechanism, a trope, a cliché, anything to stall for time. frёeωebɳovel.com
I couldn’t outrun him, and I certainly couldn’t outfight him.
The only way out of this was a massive, unhinged gamble. A lie so explosive that even The Slayer wouldn’t dare to swing his sword without checking first.
Taking a deep breath, I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a desperate shriek that echoed down the entire length of the busy street.
"I am pregnant!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, pointing a trembling, dirt-stained hand at my stomach. "I am carrying a child for the Prince of Lust!"
