Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Kong
Seven Years Earlier
Her screams echo down the narrow passage, only matched by the thundering of my boots. I’ve been granted access to her wing since Rome became King of The Cradle. As his Guardian, I am his voice and presence when he is away or busy.
I have full clearance.
We were gone for six weeks on a campaign to settle a dispute at Ruins H, and every moment I’m away from The Estate, there is no one to stalk her monsters.
I stop outside her room. The heavy door is shut, but her cries still pierce the silence, raw and heart-wrenching.
“They want to break my bones!”
The sound rattles me, sending a jolt of adrenaline through my veins.
I know I shouldn’t go in; she’s the queen, and I’m not her Guardian, still…
‘I will find you, little queen.’ I swore to watch the monsters for her, the ones inside her mind and outside in the real world.
Even if she never asked, never commanded me to… and doubts I can.
Bound by duty and decorum, I fist my fingers in tight as each scream claws at my insides, a visceral reminder of her pain that stirs a protective instinct deep within me.
I look across at her Room Guard, no more than five paces away. “Has the nurse seen to her?”
“A nightmare, Kong,” he states, eyes glued to the wall ahead.
I take a moment to compose myself, feigning stoicism as I glance down the corridor, in case this is the time Rome comes.
And no one does.
“She likes her privacy,” her Room Guard says, and I watch his throat roll as he swallows his nerves down. “She takes a sedative. No one is to go in unless it is… yourself or Sire, of course.”
A potion can’t quell her nightmares—the monsters in her mind are far more formidable than any drug.
With a resolve that belies the turmoil inside me, I push the door open.
Her suite is dim, shadows creeping along the walls from the time-fire flickering red talons. The air is dense with the scent of citrus so powerful it almost burns my nostrils.
“I’m here,” I whisper as I kneel beside her bed, my voice steady, though my heart paces like a caged animal.
She thrashes around.
“My queen?” I risk it all and reach out to touch her. With the back of my knuckles, I brush a sweat-slick strand of honey-coloured hair stuck to her cheek.
In this fragile moment, I forget who I am to her. Her shield and solace. Nothing more. I feel the weight of her anguish and burst with an overwhelming urge to hold her.
“My legs,” she whimpers in her sleep. “I don’t want to, please.”
Fuck!
When my soft touch doesn’t get through to her, her head continuing to thrash from side to side, her body twisting and tight, fending off nothing and everything, I lie beside her. Scooping her to me, I hold the back of her head to my chest. Her entire body is vibrating.
“I’ve got you, little queen. I’ve got you,” I whisper, my voice choked. “You’re safe with me.” I only hold her. Fight my will to kiss her forehead. What a fool I would be to do that. My heart fucking pummels inside my ribcage, and she stills.
Hearing it.
Feeling it.
Waking up…
Any moment now, she will come to, and so I begin to lift her away. Now that the nightmare has retracted its claws.
She clings to my shirt. “Kong?”
“Yes.”
“Stay,” she pleads. Her voice is melodic and husky from sleep, as she surrenders again to the pull of the sedative.
I relax backward on her bed. My common sense is barking at me to get the fuck up, but my body won’t fucking listen.
“As you wish,” I lie to myself, pretending I’m doing as my queen commands when I know I am doing what I want.
A small husky voice comes from in my arms. “Watch the monsters for me.”
I hold her tighter. Her command feels powerful and starts something primal and binding inside me.
One minute I am listening to her breathe, the next I am surely asleep.
A dream swirls with visions of a first-light unburdened by The Trade, by duty. In this perfect dreamscape, I am half-asleep with Tuscany in my arms.
On the bed we share.
Her body is warm, tucked into the curve of my own. It is only a dream, so I slide my hand down her thigh and squeeze the thin column, nearly circling it entirely.
My cock thickens at her back. Aches. I press into her, the throbbing appendage pulsing between our bodies.
She moans.
Such a lovely sound. A new sound. I’ve no idea how my imagination came up with it, but it’s perfection. Sweet, vulnerable, and needy. I want to lick that moan as it rushes through her parted lips. Want to feel it vibrate against my tongue.
I bury my nose into her hair and inhale an obscene amount. It’s only a dream, so why not indulge in every inch of my little queen? Her hair smells of oranges and oils and feels like liquid silk.
I release her thigh and slide my hand between her legs, down her knickers. Fingers stroking a hairless mound, down to her lips. I dip one finger between them, finding her hot and wet. She arches backward, and—
My eyes snap open.
The dream dissolves.
Only it wasn’t a dream.
A surge of guilt and anger hit me simultaneously, and I’ve no idea which to react to first. I jolt from her bed, staring down at the sweet, young queen.
She rolls onto her back, big honey-coloured eyes gazing up at me, full of shock. Her mouth is open and panting.
Fuck me.
I grip my forehead, mortified, and immediately smell the sweet scent of her pussy on my fingers.
Fuck. Me!
“I’m sorry, little queen.” I reach for her face, cupping her cheeks. “Are you hurt?”
Her eyes well up, a clear sign I’ve fucked up. I just nearly finger-fucked The Queen of The Cradle! “Little queen? Tell me, are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her lower lip wobbles. “Leave.”
My heart twists in my ribcage, wringing pain and regret and rage into my veins, polluting my muscles and mind.
I grit my teeth. “As you wish.”
What have I done?
The truth is a heavy weight, and as I drop my hands from her face. Pulling away from her, the warmth of her body fades.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, and the words taste bitter on my tongue. Guilt feels like a noose tightening, choking, drawing up bile. It’s what I deserve for touching her.
Each roaring heartbeat pulses between my ears as I leave her room— I am in love with her. I am in love with The Queen of The Cradle.
I want her to be mine.
Consumed by a longing that immediately starts to fester within me, I lock my jaw. Wear my mask of stoicism, a facade I must keep for her and The Cradle.
But inside…
Inside, I’m unravelling.
The Hall feels different from only hours ago, and with each step away from her, I know I’m on the verge of making a decision that could shatter everything—my duty, our fragile relationship.
I enter my chamber. The tension inside me coils tighter as I grapple with this forbidden attraction I can never embrace.
I have to tighten the leash on my inner creature. I know one thing for fucking certain! That cannot—will not—happen again.
I am not fucking worthy nor vile enough to tempt a broken woman who may cling to kindness and safety. Everything I give willingly not in return for… anything.
I will not touch her again.