Chapter 4 #2
“Ask or beg?” I begged you not to honor the man who murdered my brother!
“The latter.” He playfully grins.
You honestly think I’d forgive you this easily!
Words can be sweet, and Galen knows what letters to string together to get my lady-bits into a wet heat. But what men fail to learn is that women want more than just their cocks. We can get that at any corner. We want a heart to treasure us, arms to hold us, and ears to listen to us.
We seek a partner who can be both our shield and our sword.
“It’s hard to be in the mood when you plan to honor the man who killed my brother this evening,” I hiss.
Cold water. How do you like it, husband?
Galen and I’s marriage is fucked up yet more normal than my parents’. We fuck, talk about surface-level things, we argue, but then we fuck again, and I guess it makes it bearable. I know that, over time, some marriages can evolve into loving ones. That’s what we needed. Time.
He’s about to shatter the hourglass. Time’s up.
“Dance with me,” he says in a hushed tone as he swipes his thumb near my bottom lip.
It’s a kind gesture only I hear. He’s giving me a choice without looking weak among his men. I look past him at the black roses hanging along the walls. There you are! My little window of salvation is barely seen because the florist stacked the roses so thickly.
I look around the room. Galen thinks I’m nervous. He allows me to leave these dreadful events early because he knows they make me uncomfortable, and also because he can flirt with other women.
I don’t like being around people. I don’t trust them. Too many have tried to kill me; some almost did.
Where are you? I look from soldier to soldier; every one of them is dressed in ceremonial leather, dyed grey, and embossed black roses decorate the collars.
Which of you killed my brother? Was it you, or you there, who only reaches my chin?
Galen’s eyes shift. I reach for his hand. He grips mine with a force that does exactly as I plan. You see, Galen was so focused on that necklace that he didn’t see the rose I held in my hand or how his grip pushed the thorns into our flesh, cutting his queen for everyone to see.
It’s a reminder to all his court that those Galen claims to care about can bleed. No one is safe. Therefore, it will shake their trust in him.
That crown? It means nothing. Galen is flesh, blood, and bones like everyone else here. I intend to make his people remember that.
“Oops,” I mutter. “I forgot.” I flirtatiously smirk. His eyes emit heat as he gazes at the rose that wounded us both. “Sometimes things we admire can cause us harm. Fuck you,” I speak fast and hushed.
The tip of his shoe hits mine. “What was that, my love?” His lip twitches.
“I said I plucked this for you.”
“Plucked?” The arch of his brow rivals a staircase that reaches the sky.
“Yes, you heard me right the first time.” I nod.
I glance down and see his wound slowly start to heal. First, the blood slows, then comes to a halt. Next, the skin turns pink as it begins to knit shut. Vampires heal almost as fast as shifters. Fae and mages are only a step above humans.
Every eye watches as the king holds my now-bleeding palm.
“Heal yourself,” he orders under his breath.
“The hour is late.” My lips tug up. “All my magic is gone. I need rest.” Unlike vampires, who can drink blood to fill their magic, fae and mages need rest in order to recharge.
His nostrils flare. He’s trapped in a corner. Either look weak as his queen bleeds, or offer to slow my bleeding, but it will cost him.
“A very kind gesture.” He speaks loudly as he takes the rose and tucks it into his front pocket. “I should see if others need plucking.” An evil smirk graces his face. His long stare says, Are you sure you want to threaten me, because I can kill more fae if you do so.
“A lot of things need to be weeded from your garden,” I murmur.
“I shall make sure you have the freshest of flowers, my love.” You will pay for this.
Reaching out, I adjust the flower, making sure it’s straight as an arrow, pun intended. “I think I’m allergic,” I reply.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Unlikely.” I hiss. I glance at my palm and see some thorns are buried in my skin. His eyes, along with those of everyone in the room, follow mine.
His hand clamps around mine, holding it midair. You just did exactly as I wanted, husband. Thank you.
Our eyes clash, and suddenly, he is not the husband trying to woo me with fuck-you-banter; he is the king judging me. The music stops, so does the chatter. Every breath can be captured, held, and heard.
“Why did the music stop?” His tone is so heavy that it causes the onlookers to edge back. The musicians resume playing their instruments. The first note is offbeat, like hammers hitting glass; it pains the ears.
“One misstep can ruin everything, don’t you think, husband?” One small gesture, granting me my vengeance, could have stopped your downfall. One small gesture to show me you valued me and respected my heart. One small gesture, Galen.
“Dance,” he orders the crowd.
Bodies spin behind us, and we remain locked and forced onto the center of the dance floor.
My large green eyes work in my favor. I force them to widen like a child who has done something naughty.
“I know how much you love the roses,” I say softly.
“I just wanted to give you something you loved. I never want my husband to feel the ache of betrayal.”
You want to play, I’ll play. That’s what his grin says. “The only gift I require from you is your heart, my queen.”
My lips press into a flat line like an un-beating heart. “You could have it,”—I hold my chin high—“in time.” Call this off!
His left hand presses against my lower back. I hiss when he forces our hips together. I’ll need a peeler knife to scrape off a thin layer of my flesh after this dance. “That’s all I ask for.” It’s happening. Suck it up like a queen must do.
But I’m not just a queen. I was once a sister to a brother.
His grip on my palm tightens, his eyes leaving mine to look at my blood.
He raises my palm, and as it ascends each inch, my heart beats faster. “You don’t have to,” I test him. I want him to hurt as much as I do tonight.
His eyes darken, his mouth parts, and then he kisses and licks away the small droplets. When his lips meet a thorn, he rips it from my flesh using his teeth. Our eyes lock as he swallows the thorn rather than spitting it out.
Sick bastard!
He continues to clutch my hand as he interlaces our fingers and begins to lead us into a dance.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, “I didn’t mean to.” Oh, but I did. Fae blood is toxic to vampires, and if drunk in a high enough dose, it could kill one.
“You should be more careful,” he replies as he licks his lips with distaste. “I might need to assign you a personal guard.” His eyes turn hard, but he’s still eager to play this game with me.
I whisper in his ear, “I’d hate to see you lose more men.” A personal guard? Absolutely not.
He catches my chin. “Do not test me, Selene. I like pain,” he hisses before he presses a long, slow kiss to my unopened lips.
“You like pain with pleasure, which you will not be getting from me tonight.”
What did he expect of me, to drink to the man who killed my brother?
Galen knew I would act out; thus, the fancy new necklace. “Was that what my brother’s life was worth? Gold and rubies?” I challenge.
He looks away. At least he’s remorseful. “I did not mean the gift to resemble that. I…” His jaw clenches. “I’m trying to make you happy, but it is you who needs to remember I was not the one who killed him, Selene.”
“No, you’re the one who praises the killer.”
“This is politics. You were raised in this, so I’m warning you, my beautiful wife, to tread carefully. We are still learning how many buttons we can push, but I will not be tested in front of my court again.”
“I’ll watch where I step, knowing that if I fall, you’ll catch me like any good husband would.” I hold my breath, heart pounding as my face reddens. I look back at his handsome face and watch my threat sink in.
Isn’t that right, husband? I’m your queen, after all, and my life is tied to a fragile, newly signed peace treaty. I hold his stare.
He holds mine with a firmness that resembles a hook in my cheek. What are you up to?
I’ll never tell.
He runs his nose along my jaw. “I could have your tongue, but I’d much rather have it on my cock, so I will pretend you didn’t just threaten my peace treaty,” he purrs.
I snort. “You’ll never have it again.” I’d rather bite my tongue off and swallow it!
“Protection can come in many forms, Selene.” His warning is clear. I’m granted many freedoms here, but he’ll take them away if needed.
“If you cage me, I’ll show you the animal hiding inside.”
He flashes his teeth. “Taming wild animals is my speciality.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you make the suffering of the crown so much more enjoyable, wife.” He spins me, his hand dipping to the curve of my ass as he presses me tighter to him. “Some days, I think you want my hate more than my love.”
“Says the man who is forcing me to hate him,” I admit in a hushed whisper.
The stop in our dance is sudden, jarring me as he lowers his lips to mine. It’s another test as he pushes his tongue into my mouth.
I kiss him back. I have to, since his whole court is watching. But when I open my eyes, his are already watching mine. Daring me to fall into line or else.
Life is short. Sometimes it pays to pick the other option.
Bite! I trap his tongue between my teeth. Hard. The taste of his blood hits both our lips, but he licks it away, ensuring no one notices my attack. I watch as he runs his now-bitten tongue over his teeth, satisfaction gleaming in my eyes.
A smirk tugs at his lips, torn somewhere between attraction and retribution. “I know you are upset about tonight, but this little stunt worked in my favor.”
“It was not a stunt.”
His lips pull into a cruel, mocking grin. He presses his lips to mine again, but this time, he bites my lip. I want to pull back, but I hold my ground as he proves yet again he’ll drink my blood. He swipes his tongue over the cut, causing a sting before he pulls away.
He smiles, shoulders wide and worthy of the weight of the crown on his head.
“Your father and the fae will learn of this. They will not see me as a monster who praises your brother’s killer.
I’ll be seen as a man who is willing to risk myself in order to protect you.
So please, my beauty, pluck all the roses you’d like.
Bleed. Play games against me in front of my court, but Selene, remember that if I choose to screw you over in front of my court, it will be actual fucking.
Weigh the cost before you make the move, my beauty.
The game of a crown is long, and the road only grows more bloody and narrow. ”
My bones shake with fury. He holds my hand as he guides me off the dance floor and to his table. Instead of allowing me to sit in my chair, he places me on his lap. Fingers dance over my shoulders as he pushes back my hair, exposing my neck.
What is he doing? He wouldn’t bite me!
“I am not the monster you think I am.” He presses his lips to my skin. “But I will be the monster you make me, Selene,” he croons.
“Another warning.”
“You should heed it.” One second, two, three, he holds my stare before he looks away and grabs his goblet, drinking down the rest of the blood.
“You want my heart, yet you give the man who killed my brother a title.”
“What would you have me do?” Galen sets the goblet down firmly. “He helped end this war.”
“When you recognize my sorrow, then and only then you may have my heart, Galen. Until then, you continue to crush it.”
He’s too stubborn to call this off now. “Stay and eat. Once you are finished, leave. I will wait to honor him with the title once you have left.”
“How gracious of you,” I sneer. I’m pushing him to every limit. It’s foolish, but I have nothing else to lose. Everett was everything to me.
Galen’s sigh sounds as heavy as an old ocean wave that’s tired from the repetition of the tide. Soon, it might break free, swallowing land from the map, or perhaps it will continue the natural ebb and flow. One never knows what nature—or a mad king—will do.
Galen’s hand reaches out to turn my neck. His touch is gentle. “I lost men who were like my brother, too,” he admits as he cups my cheek.
His eyes dip, taking note of my trembling bottom lip. “And what would you do if my father held parties for the men who killed them?”
His honest answer remains unspoken. Only the lie is told: “I would remember this was war, and now we have peace, and I would do everything in my power to make sure that peace lasted.”
He’s so good at giving warnings and threats wrapped in pretty, loving words.
So am I.
“Peace is a prelude to war.” I make sure each word I speak cuts like shattered glass.
“War is a prologue to a crown,” Galen replies. His glare is meant to cut me like a blade, but I've been numb since my brother died.
“And the epilogue of a crown worn by an unworthy king,” I slide off his lap and press a hand to his shoulder, “is an uprising.”
I bow, acknowledging that he and I are officially at war.
As I saunter away, I bite my inner cheek, hiding my smile.