Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Titus
Queen Selene is a sunrise after a battle that almost killed you. Awe-inspiring, breath-stealing.
You’re so thankful to witness something this magnificent, but at the same time, reality hits you: you need to survive another day in order to be lucky enough to see the sun again.
How in the gods’ holy names do I get close to her without risking my dick? Because he’s perking up. Selene’s as striking as a diamond trapped in a crown I can never afford to own or look at.
But I need her. Desperately. I need to free her so I can use her.
I’m a copy and paste of every male—shit, the women too—in the room. Mouths parted, eyes wide. It’s a slap-me-silly moment to witness beauty at her level.
Galen and her dance like two skilled warriors, neither willing to back down. Her eyes smile darkly as she trades words meant for an intimate duel. The crowd’s shadows inch in, hoping to eavesdrop, but the music swallows their conversation whole.
“I’d let a woman like that bend me backwards and—”
My fist hits hard abs. “Shut up!” I glare at Tristen. “Do you want to die?”
“If it were by her hands, after she rode my cock, I’d die happy.”
Red stains my eyes. One blink removes it.
What was that? I never lose focus.
We travel faster than floodwaters ripping through a small ocean town as I drag my brother through the crowd, away from the dance floor, and towards the bar. I need a drink. I need the whole barrel!
Dying in battle is honorable, but maybe I should consider dying of toxicosis.
I grab a glass. Bloodwine spills over the rim, red drips down my fingers.
Is this a prelude to my time at court?
“Don’t mind if I do,” Tristen gingerly sings, reaching for a glass. I intercept, shoving water into his hand.
“Good idea.” He speaks unfazed. “Hydration is key to killing a hangover.”
“No more wine,” I growl, rolling my eyes.
“See, you’re always looking out for me.” He raises his water, smirks, then chugs it down. “Wine hangovers are the worst. I’ll stick to whiskey then.”
“No more, Tristen.”
He pouts. “You’re like a guy who fails to get it up when you have a beautiful lady on her knees. Come on. Can I at least try to pump you up—I mean, talk you up?” He waggles his eyebrows.
My gulp sounds like a hammer.
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes with a huff.
I shouldn’t drink blood, not here; it could fuel Everett’s magic, but I need to feel my magic calm me. One small sip can’t hurt. I lift the glass with a grunt. Warm blood hits my tongue. Ah, yes. Fire magic kneads through my muscles, slow and steady.
We’re so used to strict blood rationing when on duty. Blood wine is a rare delight. It makes our magic purr, along with other senses. But it can be addicting which, by the looks of it, our entire noble court is addicted.
Tristen presses into me like a bookend and whispers, “Please make sure I never fall in love; I will never willingly drink fae blood. Love makes you do crazy things. Then again, if a woman like that told me to drink from her, I would. I’m an idiot, but I have a huge cock, so there’s the silver lining. ”
“You touch a woman like the queen, and you’ll have no cock to brag about.” I swat him.
“Don’t be bashful; we’re brothers. I know you’re working with the same thickness and girth.”
A doe-eyed female next to us blushes more cranberry than the wine. She giggles and bashfully scurries away. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You did not just say thickness and girth,” I groan.
“Ladies love words like that. Trust me.” He puffs his chest out.
“I happened to take a peek inside one of Ember’s books.
You can’t imagine the shit she reads. Thick, aching, throbbing, pulsing heat.
It’s like a dictionary of what ladies want to hear.
You want a language lesson 101? How about we start with the words that get them wet and aching,” he jokes.
I turn away and cringe. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“Because you’re the older brother to us all. But as the younger sibling, I must support all sexual exploration.”
“You and Nero have spent too much time in the brothels.”
“They’re not brothels. Gods, you sound centuries old. Sex clubs are the hottest thing nowadays.”
“It amazes me you find the time to visit them between battles.”
“What’s life worth living for if not to spend my last days between a willing lady’s legs? They praise my tongue. Most call me a god.” He winks.
I can’t help but shake my head. “You’re drunk.”
“Absolutely. It’s the only way to survive this.
But some drunks spill only truths. I am one when it comes to my bedroom skills.
” Tristen leans closer. “What do you think fae blood tastes like? I mean, I don’t mind trying new things, but I don’t wanna risk poisoning my amazing body. ” He glances at his biceps and flexes.
He always does this, pretends to be self-centered and makes jokes; he’s just trying to snap me out of my mood.
Don’t get me wrong, Tris loves to fuck around, but he’s not the hit-it-and-skip-out the next morning guy. He is a cuddler, but he’d never admit it.
“Taste is irrelevant. Galen can’t let the queen bleed.” I argue. What a queen she is, dripping in red, tempting us all, toying with the reminder that her blood is toxic to vampires, only to force the king to drink it.
Her actions remind me of Everett’s. Both of them play games where they know the rules and you don’t.
Queen Selene embodies the role perfectly. Tall and regal, her beauty is unparalleled. She has smooth golden skin, like most fae in Solaria, but Selene has an inner glow of confidence others lack.
She’s only worthy of being touched by a king’s hands.
Get down! I inwardly shout at my cock, an action I’m sure every male is also doing after witnessing Selene bow to the king. Her tight red dress makes her ass look so fucking… Stop!
My ribs press into my lungs when I look at Selene’s face.
Tristen was right. I need Selene’s help. Everett’s magic has become a burdensome beast, and his words—mentions of runes—are a sweeping tide that threatens to wash away my sanity.
I hold the empty glass to my chest. The pressure of Tristen’s eyes digs into my face. “It’s going to be okay. They will help you.” He places his hand on my shoulder.
Why does that hand feel more like a child begging me to listen rather than an adult trying to convince me to weigh all the costs?
“What if their help comes in the form of a knife?” That knot of dread Everett placed in my belly never died; it grew. Tristen tried to help me, but I was the older brother. I solved the problems, not him.
I have no idea how to control this time-weaving magic, and it’s only a matter of time before someone else finds out. If the world discovers fae can gift their magic to other creatures, the world will fall into chaos and extortion.
“Make sure you smile widely, but not too widely. You don’t want to look like an ax murderer. Women don’t like that; they prefer swords. Long, hard, shapely steel cocks.”
“I’m gonna stab you with my sword if you don’t stop,” I groan, running a hand down my face.
“If I were a woman who wasn’t related to you, that would make me swoon.
Although may I suggest, ‘I’m going to plunge my sword into you with such a force you won’t be able to walk for days.
’ It’s got a vibe ladies would prefer.” Tristen slaps my back, but before I can reply, the king is calling my name.
My skin turns into a tough shell I want to shake off. Run away. I don’t want praise for killing. If only they knew I would have done anything, anything, to take back slaying Prince Everett.
They all smile and clap.
Miscreants, every single one of them.
I walk up to the king. Selene has left early, which messes up my plans because I was hoping to talk to her. I’d rarely have an opportunity to approach the queen.
Tristen thinks we should target Sable for help, and after seeing Selene this evening, I agree. But the other twin hasn’t shown up at the party.
Maybe she’s skinning bunnies for pleasure. I wouldn’t put it past a royal-born fae.
Why the heck would Sable come here to honor me, the man who killed her brother?
All I hear is a buzzing as King Galen’s lips move, his arms open, and he touches my shoulders and welcomes me.
Shit! It’s happening! No! No! Not here!
Everett’s time-weaving magic is complicated. I have no idea how to use it, but it certainly knows how to use me. There are signs, like the dimming of other senses. Sound is always first.
A soldier comes forward with a sword in hand, bows, and hands it to the king.
What is he saying?
Shit! Just nod. Oh, King Galen is giving me the sword.
Oh, it’s a gift. I dip my chin and accept it, and then my eyes shoot to Tristen, but his clapping slows.
No!
Movement is the second sense to dim, just like it did the day of the battle. When these time bubbles trap me, I can move freely. Others who are not trapped have no idea. Tristen has witnessed it. He said it always appeared as if I were there, moving the same.
The first time I pulled Tristen into the bubble, he was so impressed he started brainstorming dozens of ways to use it to our advantage.
That’s when I realized why Everett had given his magic to me.
I don’t want to use it to aid me in killing kings when they have no idea I could move faster than them.
I don’t want crowns. All I want is safety and security for my family.
I want to make sure no child is forced to become a soldier.
I don’t want a child to grow as Ember did, to have nothing, not even a name, for their first few years.
I want friendships to evolve into brotherhoods, not because they were forced to fight together or be killed, but because there was a genuine connection. I just… I know a better world is too much to ask for. I want a different world. A world where we respect life more than we value killing it.
I want land in a small village, where I know my neighbors and help them if need be. I want birds chirping and not men screaming as they die.
I think my heart is starting to sweat. I sink back, trying to distance myself without offending the king.
Snap! The time bubble traps me, and my breath turns to wet cement. Suffocating.
Wait, I’m… alone. How’s that possible? Galen is so close. Did the time-weave listen to me?
I feel like I’m going to be sick, but then… a chill ripples down my body. That’s not part of the time-weaving.
It’s something else. A new sense I developed on the battlefield. This sense tells me one thing.
I’m prey.
Hair stands, sweat drips through the tiny strands, my throat tightens, palms grow slick. I have only a moment, one reaction, one chance to escape.
I look at Galen. He’s not the predator that alerted my senses.
I start to turn my neck, but the time-weaving stops! My body jerks from the sudden inhale of all the sounds and movement again.
My eyes whip to Tristen, clashing with unspoken truths of what I just did. His smile drops faster than being told of a pregnancy scare, from a woman whose name he doesn’t remember. His drunken state is now alert. He looks around and nods, assuring me my secret is safe.
I can’t release the breath held in my lungs. “My newest General!” King Galen grabs my hand with the gifted sword and holds it high to the cheering crowd.
Their praises make my stomach revolt. My gaze shifts to the high ceilings and walls. Black roses line every inch, so many that you can’t see the stones.
Why not just have the party outside in the gardens if you intend to bring them in?
Because that’s what kings do, they cut and kill things, like these roses mounted and hung on their walls, for pleasure.
Like the darkness in Galen’s eyes, the roses are layered. Not just shades of black, but deep violets and uncharted ocean blues. It’s that tiny, insignificant glimpse of color that separates the sleek, dark depths that just move behind them.
There! It’s a small window of sorts. Who’s that lurking behind it?
You’re the result of my uneasiness. The predator stalking me.
I found you!
King Galen lowers my hands and releases me. I grip the newly minted sword as I narrow my eyes at the predator.
Now would be an excellent time to time-weave! But no! Work when I don’t need you.
There! I spot eyes peering at me through a small slit in the wall.
Holy shit!
I feel like ice being pelted with rain. Fracturing. Shocked. The predator steps closer, revealing her face through the small opening.
Silken black stands apart from the dark roses. What are you doing, Queen Selene?
Oh… Shit!
My sharp eyes catch sight of what’s coming for me, an arrow, a weapon, hoping to shatter what is left of me.
Sounds vanish, people slow, but that’s when I see it.
Death is coming, and it is aimed directly at my heart.