Fierce Monarch (Gilded Empire Book 3)

Chapter 9 – Mari

The last few days had been tiring and awful and more emotional than the entire last year of my life, which was saying something since I’d buried my cousin not that long ago. Hell, maybe that was part of the problem. I was a volcano, pressure building inside me with every irritation, every pain, every second of grief I faced.

This was the last straw, the final push to set me off.

I felt something inside me—something frail, desperately clinging to life and sanity and calm—snap.

I didn’t remember reaching for the first shelf or the feel of the pages beneath my fingertips. All I felt was rage. Bone-deep, blood-boiling rage.

Nate had invaded my home. He’d made me love him. He’d put everything I cared about at risk: my family, my empire, my city. And yet nothing felt worse than knowing he’d stolen my family’s legacy. My brother’s last remaining words.

I watched as I tore the books from their shelves and threw them across the room, like I was having an out-of-body experience. Present, but unable to stop myself as I went to the next to do it all over again. The soft tinkling of glass said that I broke something somewhere, but I didn’t know what, nor did I care. I was too focused on expelling the anger from my body, and the red haze covered the entire room.

Why did I have to lose everything?

Why was nothing mine to keep?

Why did I always have to sacrifice?

Growing up, I’d given up any dreams of love and joy because my father expected me to be a tool in his arsenal, and I accepted it. When I buried Antoni, I gave up a future of my choosing to take over my birthright. I gave up ever feeling safe or living to old age.

I’d given up everything for this city, and all it did was bleed me dry.

Why was nothing I did good enough to keep my family—my heart—safe?

I didn’t know, and the pressure in my chest said I wouldn’t. So I just kept going.

Row after row, bookcase after bookcase, I dismantled the library in a fit of rage that rivaled most other forces of nature: deadly, chaotic, and dangerous to behold.

Time lost all meaning, and the rush of blood in my ears deafened me as I defiled my brother’s favorite space. So I had no warning before I was crushed between not one body but two.

Struggling was second nature because I’d lost my sense of self and I didn’t know these bodies, except…did I?

“Stop, Mari. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

I knew that voice.

Come back, I told myself. It’s time to come back.

It took a long time to stitch myself together after a fracturing of that magnitude, but when I did, the scents of the men I loved surrounded me, soothing me.

Healing me.

“Dominic?” I asked, because I knew Greyson was in front of me. My throat was scratchy, and my eyes felt drier than sand, though I didn’t know why.

Had I been crying? Screaming? Was this what a true mental break looked like? If so, I’d earned it after the last year, but fuck. Bad timing.

“I’m here, mariposa.” Dominic’s voice was low and soft, and his skin was warm. He didn’t have a jacket on, though it had been pouring rain earlier and he was completely dry. Which begged the question—how long had I been losing my shit while they watched?

“How?” I didn’t need an answer to that when I already knew Greyson had called. I was really asking Why?

Why are you here?

Why have you stayed?

Why do you love me when I’m like this?

“You needed us,” Dominic said softly, his lips pressed to my temple.

Greyson mirrored him on the other side. “And we need you.”

I did need them—both of them—but I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to need them like this. One look at the destruction of my brother’s safe space told me why.

People left. They left and they took part of you with them, and you never got it back. You just lived with a hole in your chest like it was normal. I already had too many holes in my chest.

Mama. Mario.

Antoni. Rey.

Nate.

I couldn’t take another.

But I couldn’t let them go either.

My men held me together as my mind whirled, catching on thoughts I didn’t want to have. Circled by the ones who’d loved me longest, I realized something awful. Nate hadn’t just broken my trust; it felt like he’d broken me in a way I’d never heal from. The wound itself would fade, but it would scar. And while they were reminders of past pain, past traumas, Nate had made sure his mark was too deep to ever fade.

Another one for the collection, I thought wearily.

I was tired of life shitting on me. Tired of never getting to feel whole. Tired of second-guessing everyone’s motives because with power came power-seekers, and I should’ve learned that lesson long before Nate snuck through my defenses and laid siege to my heart.

I was just tired.

But I didn’t have the luxury of being tired. Not yet. We had a war to win.

Clearing my throat, I withdrew from my men’s arms and stood on shaky legs to face the music. Some of the books were ripped to shreds, completely irreparable, others would need some serious work, but thankfully, most were okay.

“I’ve got a guy who can fix those for us,” Dominic said. Which was good because I didn’t have the energy to fix anything in this house anymore.

It was cursed. It had to be.

Looking away from the literary carnage, I met his eyes. “Did you drive?”

He looked at Grey with eyes shadowed like he hadn’t slept. Had I done that to him? Had I made him so worried he’d stopped resting, or was that the Nate effect? Had losing our fourth damaged Dominic too?

I hated that I was too selfish to ask, too wounded to care.

You don’t deserve them.

Eventually, Dominic nodded.

“Good. Give me your keys.”

“Mari—”

“I’m not going for a joyride. I’m going to the Celestine. No stops, no detours, no leaving the city.” He still didn’t want to give them up, and I sighed. “Please, Dominic. I just…can’t.”

Space. I needed space. It was all I’d needed since Nate’s betrayal. The boys looked at each other again, and I decided they could keep their secret looks if they would just let me leave.

I had to get out of here before I burned the whole place down around us.

Snatching the keys from his pocket, which was the closest we’d been in days, I headed for the door. “Lock it down. We’re done here.”

For now. For a while. Forever.

Didn’t matter to me. I was moving on, even if it killed me. Because if I didn’t, it would kill us all.

I’d just turned onto the street outside when my phone rang.

Dr. Grant.

Fuck, please let this be good news.

“What’s up, Doc?”

“Your results are back. You want them now?”

“Please.”

I took a turn too fast as I waited for her to pull them up and double-check, my heart pounding. “Everything was negative. No STIs, no pregnancy. We even tested your previous implant, and it was still functioning.”

Which didn’t mean Nate hadn’t messed with it, just that he hadn’t succeeded.

She was still talking about something, but I cut her off with a muttered, “Thanks” before hanging up.

I liked Dr. Grant, which meant she didn’t need to deal with my downward spiral. I’d send her an apology gift later, and hopefully, all would be forgiven.

It took three blocks for her words to sink in. Relief choked me, as well as the realization that I still didn’t feel clean. Potential STIs weren’t the problem either; it was Nate. Moments that had felt so good before were sullied now. None of it felt real. I needed something to make it sink in.

By the time I got to our suite, I still didn’t know what that could be, so I stalked into my bathroom, turned the shower to scalding, and stripped. With any luck, the water would burn away the last traces of Nate, and I could move on. Start over with a clean slate.

The water burned, but it also made me feel awake again. Alive. I slicked body gel over my skin, marveling at how every part of me heated at the touch.

For the first time since Nate left, I wanted.

Sliding a hand down my stomach and between my thighs felt like a revelation because, god yes.

This was what I needed. To reclaim myself, to settle in my own skin like he never existed.

I slid my fingers around my clit, gasping at how good it felt. The showerhead felt even better. If I was starting over, I was doing it with the most powerful orgasm I could.

Lifting a leg on the low ledge of the tile, I let myself feel again.

The warmth creeping in, the tension in my muscles as my body climbed higher, desperately latching on to any ounce of pleasure it could. My lips parted as soft gaps of yes, right there, and fuck slipped between them.

It was incredible. It was everything.

Except I couldn’t come.

Every time I got close, I remembered Nate’s voice, and my orgasm disappeared like water down the drain.

The longer it took, the more irritated I got, until I ripped myself from the shower with barely controlled agitation.

My skin felt too tight, too desperate for release. I needed this. I needed to let him go. Still damp, I threw myself on the bed, pulling out my most trusted toys.

None of them worked.

Not the dildo I slapped onto a chair and rode until my thighs burned. Not the vibrator that hit my G-spot just right. Not my clitoral stimulator that held the record for the fastest orgasm at ten seconds.

Nothing. Fucking. Worked.

Every time I crested that hill, so close to ecstasy I thought I’d scream, Nate ruined it.

You feel like home.

I’ll never stop loving you.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

All I could see were memories I’d almost cherished and a face I wanted to forget.

You’ll always be mine, even if I’m not yours.

“Goddammit!” I tossed the toy, watching it smash against the wall, shattering to pieces just like I needed to. I was desperate to come. Desperate to shatter and break so I could rebuild.

“I fucking need this.”

Slicking my fingers in my own moisture, I circled my clit with one hand, fucking myself with the other. There was no patience, no slow buildup. It was pure, single-focused fucking. The only sounds in the room were my agonized breaths, the occasional hiss as I hit a particularly good spot, and the wet noises of my pussy.

Calling the boys was an option, but I needed this. I had to take my body back.

Nate had been the last to touch it. The last to fuck me.

No, not fuck. Make love. It made me sick.

So, I’d do this because I was Marianna fucking Marcosa, and I could damn well bring myself to orgasm.

I fucked myself until my clit hurt, my wrists ached and burned at the stretch, while they and my thighs were sticky with sweat and my own arousal.

And I still couldn’t come.

I threw myself onto the bed, struggling through huge, gasping breaths as I finally, finally, let myself break down again. The sobs racked me, but I refused to curl up. Refused to cower. I let the tears trail down my cheeks and fall into my hair, the sheets, the pillows. I didn’t know, nor did I care.

All that energy had to go somewhere. Apparently, my body preferred crying.

So I lay in my bed, filthy and tired and so fucking sad, wondering if I would ever feel safe enough to come again or if that part of my life was over. Would I ever feel comfortable having sex, or was I doomed to scratch and claw my way to heaven, only to be denied access every time?

If I couldn’t have sex, would I lose Dominic and Greyson? Would they leave me if I couldn’t give them that part of myself ever again?

I had no fucking clue, and it drove me further into my spiral until I wasn’t sure I’d ever surface.

Trust them, my heart begged me. They won’t abandon you.

Too bad my heart had already fucked me over one too many times.

If the boys couldn’t handle a life without sex, I’d let them go. They deserved happiness and fulfilling lives, even if it fucking killed me to think of them moving on. But I’d do it. I loved them enough not to want to force them to stay where they weren’t happy.

But if they walked—if they left me because I couldn’t heal—I was taking it out on the man who’d gone from lover to enemy in the span of a heartbeat.

Nate.