Betrayed By My Mate, Claimed By His Lycan King Uncle-Chapter 11: They Were So Small.

The air in the room grew suffocating.

Sorayah's entire body stiffened, shock crashing into her like a violent wave.

"W-What?!" The word escaped her lips before she could stop it, her grip on the fabric of the gown tightening.

Dimitri remained completely unfazed. "Is there a problem?" he asked, his expression unreadable.

Sorayah's nails dug into her palms, her face burning with a mix of rage and humiliation.

His gaze never wavered, his tone casual, almost bored. "Since you refused to strip back at the camp, I did it for you," he stated flatly. "Isn't that what you wanted? My attention? You got it easily."

Sorayah's breathing grew ragged.

"I'd say you're lucky," Dimitri continued, his voice edged with mild amusement. "But, to be honest, I wasn't impressed."

He exhaled as if disappointed.

"They were so small," he mused. "Almost like pimples."

The words hit her like a slap.

Not only was he admitting to stripping her, but now he was mocking her?!

Her chest heaved with suppressed fury, her hands trembling as they clutched the gown tightly against her body.

They were small...?

Is he talking about my....

Sorayah's thoughts trailed off, rage boiling inside her.

Her entire body shook as she held onto her dignity with every ounce of restraint she had left.

That bastard!

"Being my personal maid means no one else in my mansion dares to touch you except me but then it's not easy as I bet you won't last long," Dimitri said shifting the topic immediately, his voice laced with amusement.

He finally rose from his chair, his tall frame casting a shadow over Sorayah as he closed the distance between them. His piercing gaze locked onto hers, filled with an unsettling mixture of curiosity and cruelty.

"Do you want to know why I saved you and that other maid though? Why I even brought you to my mansion?"

The only response was silence, aside from the relentless downpour hammering against the walls and the distant rumble of thunder.

Dimitri let the moment stretch before continuing, his lips curling into a smirk.

"I saved you because I find you... interesting," he mused, his words followed" by a low, mocking laugh. "A mere maid trying to act mighty by defying me, now that is amusing. I'm sure you know that already too."

He tilted his head slightly, as if studying her reaction, then added with a scoff, "Lowly creatures like you trying to prove strength is laughable, to be honest."

His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped to a menacing whisper.

"You see, I've encountered many maids like you before. And guess where they ended up?" He let the question linger in the air before answering it himself. "Dead. The moment they stopped pretending to be strong, they perished by my hand."

A cruel chuckle escaped his lips as he turned away briefly, pacing.

"I despise weakness as much as I despise those who try to earn my pity. Every maid who entered my service and put on an act of toughness, only to crumble later, met the same fate. How many has it been? Hundreds... thousands?" He shrugged indifferently before his gaze snapped back to her.

"But that doesn't matter now. What does matter is that I'm making you my personal maid " he said, his smirk widening. "And I'm intrigued to see how long you will last."

Dimitri sauntered back to his chair and sank into it with a lazy grace, his fingers trailing over the surface of the table. A moment later, he lifted something from it...something that made Sorayah's breath hitch.

The blunt knife.

Her knife.

The very one she had hidden in her clothing earlier.

Her heart pounded violently against her ribs as her wide eyes darted between the weapon in his grasp and the smug expression on his face.

"You..." she whispered, her throat tightening.

Dimitri let out a low chuckle, twirling the knife between his fingers before tossing it onto the table.

"You're quite the bold one. Every maid is forbidden from helding on to sharp weapons, but you managed to claim one for yourself" he mused. "Tell me, what exactly were you planning to do with this? To kill everyone responsible for the downfall of your country, is it? I can understand that's every human wish who werewolves took down their country."

Sorayah clenched her fists, forcing herself to maintain her composure despite the anger in her heart.

"No. I am not yet able to save my life talkless of getting revenge and saving other humans captured by werewolves," she replied, her voice hoarse yet steady. "That was only to protect myself from harm. I refuse to die as a helpless maid. If I must serve, then I'll at least have the means to defend myself."

Dimitri arched a brow, intrigued by her response.

"Oh really?" he drawled, amusement dancing in his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair as he studied her. Then, with a careless flick of his wrist, he dismissed the topic.

"Well, whatever."

He reached for the sword he had been meticulously cleaning before their exchange. The blade gleamed ominously under the dim candlelight as he ran a gloved hand along its edge.

"What do you say, then?" he asked, tilting his head. "Be my personal maid rather than being a maid of the lowest rank?"

Sorayah lifted her chin defiantly, her hatred for the man before her flaring anew.

"Now that you're giving me an option, I'll rather work in my previous section than spend another second in your presence," she spat, her voice laced with venom. "I refuse to continue serving someone whose face I despise."

Dimitri's fingers paused on the hilt of his sword. His expression remained unreadable, but the air in the room seemed to shift, thickening with an unspoken challenge.

Sorayah's glare burned into him as she continued, her fury no longer restrained.

"Is your face so hideous that you must hide it behind a mask?" she demanded, her tone sharp.

Her anger wasn't just fueled by his arrogant words. It was the way he had already seen her body with his filthy eyes. The way he had dared to touch her with his filthy hands. The way he had spoken about her...her royal and divine body with his filthy mouth.

Her hands trembled with rage, her nails digging into her palms.

Dimitri remained silent for a long moment. Then, without warning, a slow, dark chuckle escaped him.

"Now that," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement, "is an interesting response."

He tapped the flat side of his sword against the table before leaning back, utterly unfazed by her fury.

"Why don't we leave the topic of my mask alone though?" he said, voice smooth yet laced with an unspoken warning. "You'll see what's underneath eventually. But the moment you tell anyone else about it... you lose your tongue."

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He let the words settle before continuing, his tone shifting into something more mocking.

"And as for your request to return to the lowly maid section..." He gave a lazy shrug. "I'll only assume that means you're giving up being my personal servant. And that...." He suddenly stood, the scrape of his chair against the stone floor echoing through the dimly lit room. "....is a decision that will cost you your life."

Without another word, Dimitri raised his sword, the sharp blade glinting ominously under the candlelight. In a swift, lethal motion, he swung it down toward her.