The Damned Demon Chapter 495 Dreams Come True When We Least Expect It

Chapter 495 Dreams Come True When We Least Expect It

The question about the choker necklace around her neck left Rebecca momentarily breathless, trapped in a moment of silent panic.

The truth behind the choker—a symbol of her subjugation to that bastard, branded as his possession. She couldn’t even refuse it since he threatened to do something worse and she would rather pick the lesser of two evils.

But the thought of revealing to her son that their worst enemy had effectively placed a leash on her was unbearable.

Struggling to maintain her composure, Rebecca crafted a facade of nonchalance, her voice trembling as she attempted to dismiss the significance of the choker, “It’s nothing. It’s just something I-” Her words, a desperate attempt to deflect, were abruptly cut off by the sudden intrusion.

The doors to the room burst open, heralding the arrival of a tall man, his presence domineering and undeniably charismatic, clad in regal black robes that spoke of his authority.

The tall, armored female guard who accompanied him stood sentinel outside, the doors closing with a finality that seemed to make Rebecca and Oberon unconsciously flinch.

“I am not too late, am I?” Asher’s voice, light and filled with an unsettling amusement, cut through the tension in the room, his smile a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that raged within the mother and son duo.

“You!” Rebecca stood up, her reaction visceral, a mix of anger and shock at the audacity of this scum who dared to enter her home as if he owned it.

Her maternal instincts, already on high alert, flared into protective fury, ready to shield Oberon from any further harm and also prevent him from knowing anything he shouldn’t.

Oberon, for his part, recoiled at the sight of Asher, his recent memories and fears intertwining to form an image of terror.

His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, haunted by the possibility of getting slapped with fake treason charges and getting executed in public.

Asher, seemingly oblivious to the hostility his presence invoked, approached Rebecca with a calm that bordered on arrogance, “Sit down,” he commanded, his hand resting on her shoulder with an authority that brooked no argument, forcing her back onto the bed, “Nobody else is here, and a senior like you shouldn’t be standing in their own house.”

The audacity of his actions, the presumption to dictate her movements within her own domain, ignited a fierce indignation within Rebecca.

Yet, she could only swallow her pride and anger as the scorching chains of slavery around her body and mind tightened the moment she developed a thought of defying his words.

She can’t risk defying him and exposing herself as his slave in front of Oberon.

But before she could react, Asher made himself comfortable right in front of her and beside Oberon.

His action of reaching out and holding Oberon’s hand, though seemingly benign, carried with it an undercurrent of mockery.

His expression, one of sympathy, contrasted sharply with the face Oberon remembered back on the ship, “It feels bad to see you like this for the second time, especially after the dream I had yesterday,” Asher mused aloud, his words weaving a complex web of emotions and implications.

“D-Dream?” Oberon’s response was a whisper, a mixture of disbelief and dread that vibrated through his weakened frame.

The terror of being at Asher’s mercy was palpable, his hand trembling under the firm grip of the man who stood as both his ‘savior’ and tormentor.

Asher’s nod, accompanied by a sigh, softened his features as he delved into the recounting of his dream, “It was a bizarre dream where you kept addressing me as ‘Father’. It felt awkward, but it felt right for some reason, even though I know it’s not like you are of my blood or anything.”

Turning his gaze towards Rebecca, Asher’s smile bore a sharp yet mocking edge, “What do you think of my dream, Rebecca? Is it that strange, or is it some kind of sign from the devils?” His words were casual, yet any perceptive person could sense the subtle insinuation.

Oberon’s frustration, already simmering beneath the surface, flared at the audacity of Asher’s bullshit dream, insulting not only him but even his mother indirectly. How dare he!

Only if he could…

But most of all, why would this fiend seek his mother’s interpretation of his stupid dream? And why was he calling her by her first name? How dare he disrespect her like that!

Rebecca, caught between the instinct to protect and the necessity to maintain a veneer of composure, felt her heart race, a tumult of anger and defiance brewing within her.

She knew what he was hinting at, making her fists clench, and she had the urge to suck him dry for doing this before Oberon, no less!

Yet, understanding the delicacy of their situation, she masked her emotions behind a serene facade, her voice a controlled chill, “It’s just a dream, Your Majesty, and they amount to nothing.”

Asher’s laughter, light and unbothered, filled the tense atmosphere of the room. “You can’t say that for sure. As people say, dreams come true when we least expect it,” he mused, the implication of his words making Rebecca’s pale red eyes burn with hidden fury.

His gaze shifted back to Oberon, a semblance of understanding cloaked in condescension, “But I can understand if you don’t agree with that, Oberon.”

Oberon’s response, a muffled grunt of frustration, barely masked the storm of curses he wished to unleash.

He knew that Asher’s taunt, veiled under the guise of casual conversation, was a deliberate provocation, a jab at his own dreams and aspirations of marrying Rowena and ruling the kingdom.

Rebecca’s patience frayed at the edges, her voice icy as she sought to dismiss their unwelcome guest, “You must be busy, Your Majesty. We wouldn’t want you to trouble yourself by staying any longer.”

However, Asher remained unfazed, his smile lingering, “Don’t be silly. How can I not make time for our prince who valiantly endured torture under the draconians and managed to escape?” His voice dripped with feigned admiration, even as he dared to place a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder, a gesture laden with unspoken claims of dominance and possession, “You have raised a very brave and loyal son, Rebecca. It’s true how people say that you have dedicated your entire life to your son.”

The sight of Asher’s hand on his mother, casual yet invasive, sparked a fire within Oberon. His hands clenched into fists, a physical manifestation of his rage and helplessness in the face of Asher’s audacity.

Rebecca’s glare was a silent storm, her forced smile a brittle mask that threatened to shatter while trying to weakly shake his heavy hand off her shoulder.

Oberon, gathering the remnants of his strength, voiced a weak protest, an attempt to reclaim some semblance of control over the situation, “You…You didn’t have to personally visit me…Your Majesty…” The plea, wrapped in the frailty of his condition, was a bid for Asher to withdraw, to remove his unwelcome touch from his mother.

Asher’s response, as he released Rebecca and faced Oberon, was a blend of mockery and feigned benevolence, “How can you say that when you are my vassal?”

However, Asher’s hand, which he released from Rebecca’s shoulder, slipped behind her instead.

Unbeknownst to the bedridden Oberon, Asher’s fingers slid down to grab her plump buttocks, squeezing the soft mound roughly.

Rebecca’s eyes widened in shock and rage, but her body acted instinctively, attempting to push away his invasive hand.

To her horror, she found herself frozen, the slave seal’s power binding her actions. It was unbearable, being so close to her son and unable to do anything as this bastard groped her so brazenly.

“I am going to protect you from now on, Oberon. I promised your mother that and will ensure you won’t ever suffer again. It’s the least I should do after everything you endured under the draconians for our sake,” Asher said in a sickeningly sweet tone, his fingers continuing their brazen invasion, burning through her gown and panties until they slipped into the forbidden cave, silently and smoothly.

“Hng!~” Rebecca’s body jolted, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips, betraying her shock and the ripple of heat that shot up from down there.

Oberon’s eyes shifted upon hearing his mother getting startled and saw blood rushing to her cheeks before his concerned voice cut through the thick air, “M-Mother, what’s wrong?? Are you okay?” He then frowned, catching a whiiff of something acrid, “Where’s this burnt smell coming from?”

“I-Im fine, Oberon. It’s just I feel…this urge to massacre those draconians,” Rebecca managed to say through gritted teeth while she glanced helplessly at Asher, threatening with her eyes for him to take out his dirty claws.

Was he mad? How dare he do this when Oberon might find out? He can’t possibly break his promise not to hurt Oberon…right?

However, Asher glanced back at her with a smile, silently conveying that nothing would go wrong as long as Oberon didn’t find out.

And as if he wanted to prove his words, his fingers continued their intrusion, and he even dared to wiggle them inside her slightly, making her back arch slightly while she struggled to maintain her usual expression.

Oberon felt moved upon sensing how his mother’s blood was getting heated up because of what happened to him and said, “I will get back at them myself, Mother. I won’t let them off…

especially that dog, Rhygar.”

“Y-Y-yes. You shouldn’t, my son..hnnn~…” Rebecca’s voice trembled, betraying her humiliation and the searing heat spreading inside her the more his scorching hot fingers rubbed against her soft, sensitive walls.

“But…you don’t look good, mother. Are you really feeling alright?” Oberon asked in worry upon seeing his mother’s pale face getting tinted with a reddish hue.