Chapter 6 #2
During that time, the king had proven he wasn’t a tattler. For if he’d spoken to my father about how I’d treated him during his last visit, I would certainly have known.
As Brey neared, his mouth parted just enough to reveal the tips of his fangs.
Captured before he’d even reached me, I tried to hide the odd beat of my heart with a dry laugh. “They pout in your absence.”
My betrothed didn’t turn back to glimpse the expressions worn by foes disguised as friends. He stopped before me. His widening pupils ensnared, and I failed to sense the warmth of his fingers until they brushed mine.
The question was quiet, almost purred. “Do you?”
I knew what he was asking. I still feigned confusion with a tilt of my head.
His fingers caught mine, and slowly, he brought them to his mouth. “Do you pout in my absence?” As his soft lips met my knuckles, he added, “Lethal.”
That name. Not mine, yet the way he said it nearly made me believe that, in his eyes, I truly was something lethal.
“Pouting ruins lip paint,” I said. “Majesty.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
A burning panic gripped me as I realized I hadn’t inspected my lip paint since Maxus had given me that bruising kiss.
As the king’s brows furrowed and he lowered my hand, I blurted, “Your carriage did not fall out of the sky, then.”
“Apparently not,” he murmured, eyes still cast upon my mouth.
To distract him further, though I wasn’t sure why I cared enough to bother, I stepped into him and whispered, “Shame.”
His scent wrapped around me like a rare and expensive skin oil. We were now so close that one harsh inhale would cause my breasts to brush against his chest.
As if realizing that, he blinked.
A tinge of color crept up his neck and over that hewn, clean-shaven jaw. Before it could touch his bladed cheeks, he hummed. If my lips were indeed smudged, then he seemed unwilling to comment.
He searched my eyes and asked, “How disappointed are you?”
“When I look at you, it hurts to breathe.”
Fingers tightening around mine, he drawled, “Then I ought to apologize for failing you so atrociously.”
“Now we agree on something.”
His lips spread into a half smile.
Dangerous, this pretty king. I couldn’t resist pondering how many he’d enticed to their ultimate demise with those looks and his silken words.
“I do, by the way,” he whispered. “Pout in your absence.”
Dangerous indeed.
He needs to marry you, I reminded myself. He needs to feed those wards and use your body to create an heir. Then you’ll become another piece of outdated furniture—and that’s if you’re lucky.
Remembering cooled me instantly. Maybe I should have been disappointed.
Instead, I felt relieved as I freed my hand from his, slowly and with my fingers grazing his palm. Knowing what to expect from this enemy was the only way to survive him and create some sort of future for myself after he’d robbed it from me.
With a taunting smile, I murmured, “I’m afraid I don’t believe you.” Then I stepped back and inclined my head. “Enjoy our betrothal ball and our lovely guests, Majesty.”
I left him standing among his many admirers, wishing I could have seen his expression—until my attention snagged on a familiar bearded face in the corner of the ballroom.
Maxus.
I clenched my wineglass so tight that I feared I might shatter it. Handing it to a server, I watched the made vampire who probably shouldn’t be in here glower at our king. As if sensing my gaze, Maxus then looked at me.
And immediately stepped forward.
I glared.
Before he could dare approach me, the pianist ceased playing.
“My friends.” My father’s voice rose to the ceiling panes. “If I could steal just a few minutes of your time.”
Quiet settled like a falling bedsheet.
It used to fascinate me—how quickly my father could garner such attention. That was, until I understood that such obedience was created through fear. My father believed power and fear were one and the same.
I believed it.
Yet as the king parted the crowd with nothing more than his feline gait and smile, I couldn’t help but notice that it was awe, intrigue, and perhaps even reverence within the orange and green eyes of our guests.
And I couldn’t help but wonder if that was true power.
No one did any such thing as I waded toward the middle of the ballroom. It made me itch to taste it, just a morsel of the respect these people had so easily given to their king, to see if I might like it as much as I imagined.
With that smile that was likely well-practiced still in place, Brey reached my father’s side.
Also practiced, yet it could use more, my father’s smile was stiff. Impatient. But maybe only to those who knew him.
Lord Aphylus cleared his throat. “We are gathered here this evening to celebrate the impending matrimony of our new king.” As I reached his other side, he gestured to me with his ruby-crusted tankard. “And my beloved daughter.”
Cheering and clapping erupted.
I held my smile and batted my lashes only twice. My gaze finished a slow sweep of the ballroom and collided with the king’s.
Almost playfully, Brey’s eyes narrowed.
“Not only will their union ensure the longevity of the Saltblood line but also our way of life. Together, King Breyron and his new queen will finally see to the perilous task of nourishing the wards encircling our wondrous isle.”
More applause and shouts exploded, and I realized the first round had been little more than customary.
I failed to care.
The gleaming floor seemed to bubble beneath my heels as I wilted beneath the weight of reality and expectation. My heart pounded as if I were being hunted, and not in a fun way.
Nourishing the wards.
Most evenings, I struggled to nourish myself.
Perilous.
My hand rose to my cleavage. But I needn’t have touched my chest. I could hear the panicked beat of my heart in my ears, in my whooshing blood, and in my quiet yet labored breaths. “Vexaya squash me,” I whispered.
The king chuckled.
I hadn’t even noticed he’d moved.
Perhaps another evening, many evenings into my uncertain future, I would be grateful that he’d hid my anxious state from our guests by blocking me from view. Right now, I was more interested in trying to mar that stunning face with my nails.
This was another much-needed reminder that the king wasn’t just ruining my life with this marriage but also endangering it.
“Soon, these uncertain times will be but a bleak memory,” my father declared. “One we must carry with us if we are to protect our immortal existence forevermore.”
The hardening of King Breyron’s jaw momentarily faltered his perfect smile.
My father lifted his tankard. The rubies caught the flames flickering in the chandelier above us. “All hail the goddess who gave us undying life, and the kings and queens who safeguard it by risking their own.”
Clinking tankards and wineglasses followed a chorus of enthusiastic agreement.
Beside me, Brey murmured, “Smile, lethal. We can soon make our escape.”
Those words knocked me from my stupefied state. I smiled, but as the noise dwindled and Brey offered me his hand, I pretended not to see it and left him.
He called my name only once. Anything more would invite questions from our hungry-eyed guests.
I hurried to the treat table, where I snatched two lemon cakes and a fresh glass of wine to take with me outside to the terrace.
Adythe and Deedra joined me.
I avoided their questions about the king and the wards by shoving the cakes into my mouth, then by sharing opinions I didn’t truly have about some of the finery worn by made vampires who acted as if they were born.
I was so unsettled, so desperate to flee my own skin, I failed to notice Clovia’s absence until I excused myself and found her just beyond the ballroom entrance, giggling at one of our guards. Needing to escape, I let her be and walked on.
Hopefully, some forbidden fun would help alleviate her ill feelings toward me.
“But when did you get such scars?” she asked. “Before you were made, surely.”
Halfway down the hall, I halted so abruptly that I almost tripped.
The screech in my ears kept me from hearing the vampire’s response. But I didn’t need it. I heard his voice.
Maxus.
As I turned, his eyes met mine over my friend’s head, bright yet too far to read. I didn’t want to read them. I didn’t want to know if he was simply on duty at the doors, or if he’d left the ballroom to entertain Clovia in a quieter place.
Sickened by the sight of them and by all I was being forced to do, I hurried through the halls to the stairs.
A tall figure leaned against them, ankles crossed. “You escaped without me.”
Unbelievable.
I slowed. “I don’t recall inviting you.”
Brey’s mouth quirked. “I detect far more menace than earlier.” Straightening, he sauntered toward me. “Why?”
“You know why.” I gathered my gown. “So if you’ll excuse me, I must now go and cry myself to sleep.”
He chuckled as if I were jesting, and gently grasped my arm. “Stay.” When I looked at his hand on my arm, he almost implored, “Take your worries out on me.”
I looked from his hand to his face. “There’s no need to exert yourself to gain my affection. I understand what is required of me, and I can see to all of it while loathing you.”
“Darling lethal.” His fingers slid to my wrist, so slowly that I shivered as he leaned down to whisper against my cheek, “I want far more than your affection.”
“Let me guess.” Though my breathing faltered, I spoke dryly. “My heart?”
He eased back, a smile curving his luscious-looking mouth.
His fingers took mine, forcing me to release my gown.
“Hearts are notoriously unreliable,” he said.
“Gluttonous one minute and weary the next.” Taking my chin with his other hand, he tilted it until our eyes locked. “What I crave is your soul.”
If he decided to rid the space between our mouths, I wasn’t sure I would have stopped him. But he only studied me—my eyes, my lips, and then my heaving chest.
Remembering myself, I said, “You’ve already secured possession of that.”
“Oh?”
“The bond you just have to have.”
As his eyes crawled back to mine, the green within sparked. “I would not call that true possession.”
It was difficult to find a response, to think at all with him so close. I swallowed thickly. “You excel in the art of smooth-talking, Majesty.”
“A compliment?”
“Hardly.”
He forced a pout, then said, “If you do not appreciate words, might you appreciate action?”
I didn’t answer, and for moments that might have been minutes, he just searched my gaze. Perhaps waiting. Perhaps simply content to stare and further unnerve me.
But it felt like a challenge to merely stare right back.
Until faint noise reminded me of our abandoned celebration, and of Maxus and Clovia. I averted my gaze. “The only thing I have truly come to appreciate is freedom.”
Gathering my gown again, I hurried up the stairs without looking back.