28. Plucking Pretty Eyes
28
PLUCKING PRETTY EYES
" P rincess Luella."
The curtains parted, fluttering slightly as they revealed deep shadows and the faintest hint of the reveling court in the midst of the throne room.
Luella perked up at the sight of Graves, who stood rigidly in front of the shut curtains. With a gloved hand, he pulled down his cowl to rest under his chin, leaving his hood where it was.
The soft flickers of candlelight illuminated the surroundings and made the shadowed male into a haunting figure, backlit by sparkling whirls of dust that caught in the threads of light around his black hair. The scar over his left eye curved a harsh and jagged line down to his cheek, the shadows of the room making it more severe. The scruff on his jaw was darker, like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. It made him rugged and dangerous.
Eyes of lapis lazuli took in where she was nestled on the floor, Az’s manacled hands resting over her shoulder, her back propped up on Bastian’s legs, and the unflappable Tharen pulling at the ends of her hair where it rested on his lap, harsh tugs that made her wince every few moments. The room was heady with them .
The usually stoic raven shifter huffed a breath, nostrils flaring.
Did the scents in the room make him dizzy, too?
Because Luella was overcome by how delicious the cozy room had become—rich sugar and crisp snow and spiced bergamot. Her head felt too heavy to hold up from the intoxicating blend.
She was too overcome to realize how abnormal it all was.
Graves rested a hand on the hilt of the sword daggling off his hip. "King Vale has requested a dance." He held out a gloved hand in offering for her.
Frozen, she stared up at him, not wanting to leave this small, private space.
"Must I?" she asked.
Luella could’ve sworn the edge of the male’s scarred lip quirked up in the beginnings of a smile.
"Yes," Graves replied. "Let’s not keep him waiting."
Tharen hummed. "Right. You don’t want to do that, Princess. You haven’t seen the worst of King Vale’s fury. There’s nothing the male hates worse than impudence. Dragon shifters are known for their lack of patience." He tugged on the ends of her hair, forcing her to crane her neck back and look up at him from where she was kneeling on the floor.
Luella’s cheeks heated at the exposed position, she was practically bent backward over his and Bastian’s laps.
The mage patted her cheek in a patronizing gesture before shoving her away from him. Luella was caught by Az with a hand against her lower belly, his thumb lightly brushing against the space below her navel absentmindedly.
With his manacled hands still secured around her waist as best as he was able, Az helped her to stand, pulling her back into his chest. The length of the chain between them and Bastian grew taut, and her fingers dangled limply as she waited for the vampire to follow.
When Bastian didn’t make a move to stand, Luella inquired, "Are you not coming?"
Tharen huffed a laugh, and Luella looked at him, her mouth popping open in confusion.
"I think I’ll allow Graves to take over. I’m in no state to be around you for much longer." Bastian’s fangs flashed as he ran his tongue along a sharp point.
Luella felt her heart stutter at the meaning laced within his words: he needed more blood.
The vampire held out the end of the chain, and Graves took it with ease, clipping the end to his belt wordlessly.
"Run along now, pet." Bastian teased as he made a shooing motion with one hand. "When you dance with him, envision yourself in my arms instead." He brought a glass of deep burgundy wine to his lips, the edge of the glass hiding the smirk playing along his sinful mouth.
Before she could think better of it, Luella blurted, "I want you to come."
"Oh, do you?" Bastian grew amused, a dark eyebrow quirking up.
Tharen laughed louder, and Az’s hands grew possessive on her waist, a growl bubbling up in his chest.
Luella nodded. She didn’t want to be left with Graves. The male frightened her. Not in the same way as Tharen or the King, but it was a quiet sort of deadliness that followed him wherever he went. Only made worse by his voyeuristic proclivities.
Bastian took a moment to think before placing his nearly empty wine glass down and standing. "As you wish," he said, brushing past her as he made to leave.
At the red tinge to his eyes, Luella didn’t know if it was the right decision to make or not. Bastian looked like he was nearing his threshold.
"Come," Graves mumbled as he pulled his cowl back over his lower face mid-word.
The raven shifter led her from the safety of the alcove. From behind, Az reached up and held the curtain back, making sure it didn’t hit her. The gesture was soft and sweet—just like the demon himself.
While Luella had been tucked away in the alcove, court raged on, growing more raucous with every passing moment. It was a cacophony of discordant sounds. Cheers and yells, pleasured noises and laughter, combined with the soft stringing of a harp. The music was constant.
Az was a steady warmth at her back, and Graves tightened his hold on the chain, pulling her along like some pet.
She couldn’t help but cower back at all the peering eyes. Her presence in court was less of a shock now, but that didn’t stop the courtiers from watching her every move, drinking her in as their hands reached out to touch. She knew the only thing keeping her safe was the decree King Vale had made. If it weren’t for that, Luella would have been mauled by these beasts when she took her first step into the throne room.
Her perusal was cut short by a male with a shock of red hair staring right at her. He was tall and lithe, with the appearance of a dancer of some sort; his muscles fine and trim, neck elegant and posture perfect.
Luella’s dance tutor would have loved him.
He wore a billowy brown coat thrown over a skin-tight, tan shirt. Rubies and sapphires were sewn into the lapels and cuffs of his coat, intermingling with the dust floating about the room. The jewels caught the light and cast rainbows.
"My!" the male exclaimed, hurriedly weaving through the mass on the dance floor and gracefully stopping before her.
Luella started, stumbling to a stop. Az caught her against his chest, towering by her side in protection.
"Back up," the demon snarled.
The male was a respectful distance away, but that didn’t stop him from holding his hands up in front of him to placate Az. "Apologies. I was just taken aback. Everyone’s been talking about you, dear." He looked at Luella, his eyes a stark green shade. There was a smattering of freckles on his nose and the backs of his hands. "I had to see for myself."
Graves sighed and stopped, his posture wasn’t overtly threatening, if slightly exasperated.
"Sartor," Graves greeted, tone bored as he looked at the male as if to say, on with it , jaw set into a scowl and foot tapping on the marble floor.
"You have such vivid golden eyes," the male, Sartor, continued.
Luella’s mouth parted; she didn’t know how to reply to that.
Tharen sidled up by her other side, making her throat seize. The mage weighed one of his daggers in a hand as he eyed Sartor with a lazy grin.
"Apologies for her, she’s still learning her manners," Tharen said, shooting forward and gripping Luella’s jaw with force, turning her head to face Sartor. Chains clinked as Az strained against his shackles. "Say thank you , little lamb."
She felt a curse well up on her tongue but forced it back down. She wouldn’t stoop to their level and give in to blasphemous notions.
"Thank… you," she all but spat. Her jaw ached from his grip.
Tharen’s finger almost dipped into her mouth as she spoke. She thought vaguely of biting it, but she knew better. Especially with his other hand gripping a dagger. It wouldn’t take much for the mage to arc the blade up and cut out her tongue.
Sartor’s green eyes glinted, and she felt slightly queasy as he stared at her with blatant desire. Ducking her head, Luella pressed her side to Graves, Tharen’s hand falling away. Graves seemed to barely notice her seeking shelter in him, save for the way he angled his body, half-concealing her behind him.
Sartor made to step closer, and Az pressed against her back, the demon let out a warning growl, and she felt it vibrate through her whole body, shooting little tingles everywhere.
The red-haired male reached out a finger like he wished to touch her face, but before he could, Graves flicked it away, quick as a whip.
"Back away. The King would not like you to be so close," Graves intoned.
Tharen, ever the aggressor, took a more violent approach. "If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn away now, Sartor. My daggers have been dry of blood for a day. And that’s a day too long. I’m itching to carve that petty smirk off your face."
Az growled in agreement. He had been so quiet; Luella hoped he was okay… Something about this court, these males, made him become resigned and far more territorial. Or perhaps that was his natural state—Luella met him in the quiet privacy of the dungeons, after all.
Sartor held up his hands again, suddenly subdued by the three males standing around Luella like guard dogs. "Sorry, sorry. I’ll take my leave now. It was knowing the rumors were true. She is absolutely edible." Sartor winked at her, a piece of his red hair curling over his temple as he turned to leave.
Az tensed behind her, poised to strike, his body angled to run after Sartor. Luella knew he would have if it weren’t for the chains binding him.
"I haven’t seen that bastard in ages. Still as insufferable as ever," Az groused.
The demon was coiled to attack, even though the male had disappeared into the crowd. Luella placed a palm on his lower stomach—to subdue or comfort him, she wasn’t sure. He tensed under her, amber eyes heating as they held her gaze.
Tharen walked his fingers along Luella’s chain, tone lackadaisical as he said, "He’s usually not that brazen. He prefers to take his females unwillingly, so these chains only serve to excite him more. There’s something about wanting what you know you can’t have." The last part was said quietly as if an afterthought.
"The forbidden is always tempting," Az agreed, placing a hot palm over hers, keeping her hand on his lower stomach. His tanned skin glittered with the enchanted dust, horns nearly sparkling with it. He was so… pretty.
Graves broke his stint of silence. "About your eyes… That wasn’t a compliment."
"What…what do you mean?" Luella asked him, but the raven shifter merely regarded her impassively, dangling the information in front of her with a taunting shimmer in his jeweled eyes.
With a lazy hand, Tharen pulled an unlit hookah from the passing hand of a courtier, the male rising to fight with a curse and narrowed eyes.
"What the fuck?" the male spat, but his offensive stance wilted as soon as he realized who the offender was. "P-Prima," he stuttered, before scurrying off.
Tharen rolled his eyes as if it were common to take from those he deemed lesser than him. The mage lit the end of the hookah with the wave of his fingertips, flames sparking along the end as he fit the tip between his lips, and he left it to dangle there as he regarded her coolly, keeping a firm point of contact with her. She cowered back into Az, his fingers digging into her side and the links of their shared chains resting over her arm and cutting into her waist.
"Sartor is a dragon shifter. And his hoard?" Tharen answered on Graves’s behalf with a smirk. The mage came closer, a whisper of space between them as he lowered his face to hers. "Pretty eyes."
Luella jerked her hand up to hover protectively near her eyes, and the innocent act made the mage huff a laugh.
Bastian stepped closer to her side and fiddled with the neckline of her dress, fingers skimming under the thin lace as his hands roamed lower and lower with each pass. "He has a thing for gouging out the eyes of his bed partners after he fucks them. You won’t be lying with him, so we don’t have any worries, pet."
Luella’s heart seized, and all the blood pooled to her feet. Her mouth opened and closed as she floundered for what to say to that .
A blush overtook her face, and Tharen, the animal that he was, immediately honed in on it.
"Aw," Tharen crooned. "She’s embarrassed. Don’t worry, lamb, that modesty will be done away with in time."
Bastian gripped her shoulder, palm pressed over her breastbone, and fingers dipping under the collar of her gown, his skin cool against hers. She suppressed a shudder.
The vampire leaned forward, lips ghosting over the point of her ear, as he whispered, "Don’t let him think he has the upper hand. Trust me. Fight back." He gave a gentle nip to her lobe. And this time, Luella couldn’t contain the shudder that wracked her frame.
Blame it on the few sips of wine earlier, her nearness to the four males, or the vampire’s words, but Luella couldn’t stop herself from rising to Bastian’s challenge and attempting to play their game…
"What if I want to l-lie with him?" She stumbled over the words, couldn’t bring herself to say that other thing.
Bastian went rigid beside her; the red in his eyes grew more pronounced. Tharen bit down on the tip of the hookah so hard the wood splintered, a lone crack radiating from where his teeth ground into it.
"Too far," Bastian muttered in warning.
Az rumbled a growl behind her, pressing tightly to her back, towering over her. He was all hard muscle and warm skin, and his hands settled on her shoulders as he curved himself around her, warning the others off.
"Calm down, Azgorath." Graves eyed the others with a look of contempt. "It’ll take more than a few words to get me to lose control, unlike others." His appearance contradicted his words—gloved fingers tapped against the muscles of his upper thigh, and though she could not see a hint of skin save for his eyes, she had the feeling he was wound up, poised to snap.
Bastian ground his jaw, closing his lids for a brief moment and taking in a slow breath. His lips moved soundlessly like he was counting, then after a few moments, he opened his eyes once more, the red tinge not as vivid, but his shoulders were still rigid with tension.
"As much as hearing you say that makes me want to drag you back into the alcove and show you what it really means to lay with a male, I won’t make a move, pet." Bastian settled his attention on Az. It was then that Luella realized how he acquired his role as the Advisor. He was diplomatic. Ever the voice of reason. "Be at ease, beast. After all, Graves was right—some of us have control."
Tharen’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his hands into fists. The mage flipped up his dagger to press the sharp point into Bastian’s throat. She waited for him to move the blade forward, but as if an invisible hand was holding him back, Tharen didn’t move any closer. Bastian shifted, the blade inadvertently digging further into his neck.
"Are you implying that I don’t?" Tharen seethed.
At the display of violence, the demon at Luella’s back wrapped both arms fully around her chest, the chains rubbing against her arms as he held her. His chin brushed the top of her head, and she allowed herself to melt into his embrace. Protected.
Bastian didn’t even seem fazed that the psychotic and powerful Prima held a weapon to his throat. A finger raised, and Bastian placed it right on the sharp edge of the gleaming blade, held still against his neck. As Bastian moved his neck closer to the edge of the blade, blood welled as it cut into his skin, but he didn’t even flinch. Tharen eyed the droplet with glee. The bloodshed made him joyful.
"Oh, I’m not implying it. I’m stating it. When it comes to the Princess, your scarcely held control is all but naught. I don’t blame you, Prima. When was the last time you had a good fuck? I know when I go a while without a tumble in the sheets, I’m bound to lose control." Bastian’s lips curved up into a full-blown smile, but it was not genuine. He lifted his finger and rubbed the bloody tip of it over his lips, sucking on it. "Having trouble finding someone who wants to lie with you? That’s what happens when you scare everyone off."
"Fuck. You." Tharen dug the tip of the blade deeper into Bastian’s throat, uncaring of the attention they were drawing from the crowd.
The musicians still played, but as if they could hear the tension building to a crescendo, their tunes turned into a thick rhapsody of vexation. Feeding into the mood of the throne room, the revelers grew more unruly and untamed, spurred on by the music and promise of violence, fists flew, and a few glasses shattered on the ground from being thrown.
Luella gripped Az’s arm that was wrapped over her chest. "Az," she implored, biting her lip.
The demon shushed her, and Graves cast her a weary sigh.
"Enough," Graves called.
Tharen ground his jaw, waiting for a beat before wordlessly pulling the dagger back from Bastian’s neck.
Bastian flicked his eyes to Luella, straightening the lapels of his coat with a quiet clearing of his throat. "Sorry you had to see that, pet." He gave one last smile to Tharen and taunted, "I’m sure your ego would have taken a grand hit to lose in front of her."
In a flurry of angered curses, the mage made to lift the dagger again, hands fisting in the collar of Bastian’s coat as he pulled him up.
"Okay, okay. I see that didn’t go over well." Bastian held his hands before him in a mockery of surrender.
"You would be no match to me in a fight, Advisor. Best remember that for when we’re on the training grounds," Tharen growled.
Graves, deadly as the night and silent as shadows, drew a thin sword from the sheath at his side, holding it aloft by the ornately carved hilt as the pointed tip cut between the pair. It made a whisper of sound as he extended it before him, and Luella felt her pulse quicken, head turning to look at the males as they faced off in a battle of wills and over-inflated egos.
Just when she feared they would descend into a brawl, an order echoed throughout the room.
"Enough," King Vale boomed.
The males paused like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over them, freezing them to the spot.
King Vale stepped into the circle the group had made, placing his hands on Tharen and Bastian’s chests as he walked right into the tip of Graves’s sword. The point indented the silk of his shirt, almost cutting a hole into the fine weave of the fabric. The King paid it no mind, eyes finding Luella where she was pulled in Az’s protective embrace, shoulders quaking with fear at the mix of angered scents and prideful stances.
"Were you planning on whipping out your cocks to compare sizes?" The King sighed and held out a hand for her to take. "Let’s leave these males to their preening. Come, Princess Luella. I believe I’m owed a dance."
Tharen and Bastian broke apart with twin huffs of indignation, but the mage didn’t put his dagger away.
Graves sheathed his sword and clasped his hands in front of him. The dark, silky hood of his cloak slipped forward as he bowed his head in deference to the King and said, "King Vale, my apologies for not stopping them sooner."
The King waved the apology away as the corner of his lips tugged up. "They are not your responsibility."
Graves’s downcast shoulders seemed to think differently, however.
Luella eyed the King’s outstretched hand.
"I do not owe you anything, King Vale," she stated. Az tightened his grip on her shoulders in a warning.
The King merely stood still as stone, hand unmoving as he waited for Luella to comply.
They both knew she would; there was no guessing if she would rebel or fight back. All the fight had been beaten out of her long before she was taken captive. In her youth, any sense of rebellion had been forced out of her before it could even fully develop, shaping her into the meek creature she was today.
Luella’s malleable temperament had gotten her this far—alive, out of the iron bars of the dungeon, and into this gilded cage. Meek, she may be, but stupid, she was not.
A cage was a cage, and just because she was allowed nice meals, warm baths, and some of the luxuries she had at her home in Solis, Luella knew all it would take was one misplaced word or the barest hint of her plans to escape, and she would be right back in the dungeons. For good.
Luella had been playing the game of court and silence all her life, and that’s why she knew when to pick her battles. When to acquiesce and when to rise to a challenge with wit instead of fists, like these males seemed to favor so much.
She looked to King Vale’s outstretched hand, then back up to his face. He did not waver, not even once.
Her golden eyes tracked up the strong rope of corded muscles peeking out of the rolled-up cuff of his shirt, and she followed those impressions of strength to his elbow, up to his shoulder, and finally— finally —met the piercing green of his gaze.
"Okay," Luella breathed, placing her palm in his.
The King’s grip was warm as his fingers completely enclosed hers, and he tugged her into him.
"Obedience suits you," King Vale remarked.
Anger surged within Luella, and in an impulsive moment of weakness, she attempted to jerk her hand back. The King’s grip was iron-clad and unyielding, just as he was.
It was no use.
His eyes sparked in delight at the tiny act of disobedience. "So you can fight back. Good. I was thinking you would be content with whatever we threw at you."
"I know when to fight and when to yield, King Vale," Luella said, emboldened with her demon still at her back, chained to her.
While she had been wrapped up in a game of wills with King Vale, Graves had given the King her chain, and Az trailed behind her like a dutiful protector. The raven shifter, mage, and vampire were nowhere to be found, dispersed into the room like smoke. Off to do gods knew what.
Bastian to find a willing—or unwilling—blood supply, Luella assumed. Or to fight with Tharen.
She allowed herself to be pulled into the throng of dancing revelers, the crowd easily giving way as their King entered their midst. Courtiers stumbled back from the odd trio: the dragon King, the captive Princess, and her demon protector.
Eyes warmed her back, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Graves would be watching her from somewhere. She could not see him, but that did not mean he couldn’t see her—she had a sense the male preferred it that way. To see , but not be seen. Watch, but not be watched.
King Vale had her now, and he could do whatever he wished with her. Luella was merely a passive spectator, unable to object to his wicked impulses if she didn’t wish to find herself back underground in the darkness of the dungeons.