Chapter 18
THERON
I lift Helena in my arms and carry her to the bed, only to realize she’s wearing her daytime clothing rather than a nightdress and robe. I set her down next to the bed and contemplate removing her dress. I also experience a stab of guilt. I still haven’t provided her with a new wardrobe.
And I still need to escort her to Marlow Street so she can collect her belongings.
Perhaps tomorrow or the next day. But first, I must wait for Commander Ashvale to report on his findings.
If he cannot locate the Sinclairs, that will present another problem.
Now that I know how much the Sinclairs mean to Helena, I doubt she will rest until she learns of their whereabouts and confirms their safety.
She sucks in a sharp breath and her brows draw together. As she stares up at me with a mildly accusing look, I already know she’s heard my thoughts.
“You asked a commander to check on Isabel and Mr. Sinclair. They didn’t show up to pay tribute today.” Her eyes cloud with worry.
“Yes, darling human, it’s true. Your friends didn’t attend Tribute Day. But fear not. Commander Ashvale is my most trusted comrade. He will learn why your friends were absent today and will report back to me as soon as possible.”
“I-I don’t understand. They had the money. They were planning to attend. Mr. Sinclair told me so himself. He even promised to include me as a member of his household so I wouldn’t be… taken.”
“Commander Ashvale is going to Marlow Street at first light tomorrow. Whatever the reason for their absence today, he will find out, and we’ll know soon enough. And if they are still at the bakery, you will see them soon when I take you there to collect your belongings.”
“If they are still at the bakery…” she whispers in a faraway tone.
Then her eyes flare wide. “Oh, I really hope Mr. Sinclair didn’t do something foolish.
I know he was worried about Isabel being taken even though he had the required tribute for his household.
As I already told you, she is young and quite beautiful.
What if…” Her voice trails off, but I know what she’s thinking.
“You’re worried your friends tried to flee Braemar.”
“Yes. I am.” She pauses and draws in a long, steadying breath.
“Please, King Theron. If they did run, please don’t hurt them.
Please don’t kill them. They are good people, and I’m sure Mr. Sinclair only wants to protect his daughter.
She was captured by orcs once. She spent two days in captivity before she was rescued.
I don’t know for sure what happened during those two days, but I can guess.
If they did run, it’s because Mr. Sinclair only wants to protect Isabel.
He doesn’t want her getting hurt all over again.
” Reaching for me, she places a hand on my arm.
She stares up at me with a beseeching look, and I sense her desperation.
She’s even open to making a deal with me just to keep her friends safe.
Do not fear, darling human, I say down the tether, savoring the intimacy of speaking directly into her mind.
If the Sinclairs escaped Braemar, I will show them mercy.
But do not ask such a favor of me again.
I am not as kindhearted, or forgiving, as you wish me to be.
Runners are usually put to death. Or kept as slaves.
I feel her cautious relief just as it reaches her. She leans back against the bed as though her legs have given out beneath her.
Thank you, King Theron. Her voice is a breathy caress in my mind.
Then, stubborn as ever, she adds: But I cannot promise not to ask such favors of you again.
Surely you must know that. I do not approve of your cruelty.
It’s wrong of you to condemn an entire city just for the actions of a few soldiers.
In that case, I look forward to arguing with you, darling human, I tell her. I look forward to hearing you beg. I pause for a moment to let the words linger, to let their meaning sink deep. But know this. Next time you dare ask such a favor of me, I will have you on your knees.
She gasps, and I sense her shock, followed swiftly by indignation. But beneath that first rush of outrage, I feel it, the warmth blooming in her body, the helpless pull of desire tightening low in her core, a breathless whimper caught at the back of her throat.
The thought of surrendering to me unsettles her… and stirs her all the same, betraying her in ways her pride would never allow her to admit.
Yet she cannot hide the truth from me.
A dark thrill cascades through me.
Winter magic buzzes in my veins, making me feel more alive than ever.
“Gods, Helena, the scent of your arousal is so delicious.”
“What?” she says with a gasp. Her eyes go wide. Her outrage burns stronger yet somehow fuels her burgeoning desires.
She springs into action, trying to slip around me, but I quickly place my arms on either side of her, effectively pinning her in place.
“I am not aroused, and I’ll thank you to leave me in peace. I am tired and I must go change and get ready for bed. You are vulgar and rude and…” She ceases speaking and shoves at my chest.
A wicked laugh escapes me. Do you like it rough, darling human? I ask down the tether. I had thought our first time together would be slow and sweet, as I am eager to earn your affection and your trust, but if you want me to wrestle you onto the bed, I would be happy to oblige.
“Our first time together?” she asks in an angry whisper. “We are never”—she gestures sharply at the bed—“doing that.”
“You mean fucking?”
A flush spreads up her neck and covers her face. “How dare you? Just because you’re a godsdamn fae king doesn’t mean you can talk to me like… like…” She blushes more profusely as her words break off. “It’s hard to think when you’re standing so close,” she adds in an accusatory tone.
A slow, unrepentant smile touches my lips.
“Today wasn’t the first time I heard your thoughts,” I say, making no effort to hide the arrogance in my voice.
I lean down until my lips hover at her ear.
“I know you find me handsome. That you like the way I smell. And also, that you’ve had some interesting thoughts about my cock, like how delightful it feels when I stand close and press my hardness against your trembling body. ”
Her breath hisses inward. She shoves at my chest, and an anguished cry rips from her throat. “I’m supposed to hate you!” she shouts.
Her eyes glisten, and I sense her turmoil. But the scent of her excitement remains heavy in the air, and I know beyond a doubt that if I were to slip my hand beneath her clothing and touch her pussy, my fingers would come away glistening with her arousal.
I grasp her arms, push her firmly against the bed, and press my hardness to her stomach. I grind forward once, twice, letting her feel the proof of my desire. Her breath hitches, and a second later, she emits the loveliest whimper.
Using my weight to keep her pressed to the bed, I reach one hand up and circle it around her throat. I don’t squeeze. I simply hold her throat. She trembles and squirms against me, but she’s no match for my strength.
She shudders and another fragrant wave of her excitement hits me. Pungent, sweet, and intoxicating. Addictive. I suspect that once I taste her, I’ll never be able to get enough. One taste and I will spend the rest of my life hungering for her. Desiring her.
I lean closer and place my lips at her ear again, allowing her to feel the chill of my winter breath.
“Then show me, darling human,” I whisper, my voice dark with promise. “Show me just how much you hate me.”