Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Selene
With the same musical ease that the ballads detailed Titus slaying my brother, he sliced my arrow in half. Titus isn't just a soldier—an instrument of war—he’s a composer.
I kick my feet, pushing the sheets off as I roll onto my side.
Polished boots walking down the hall reach my ears. Here he comes.
Boom! My door is kicked off its hinges.
Looks like you need better craftsmen, Galen.
Do I move from my bed? No, not addressing Galen’s presence brings me joy.
“I know you’re awake.” His voice is a cold slither.
I press my fingertips into the mattress. I’ve pissed him off before. This is next level. Avenging Everett was worth it.
“Oh, silly me.” I roll onto my back and stretch my arms above my head. “I thought I was dreaming.” Angering you makes me sleep soundly.
Like a piece on a game board, he inches closer. His scent of blackcurrant and jasmine invades my nose. His eyes press into me like lips to a glass, drinking, slurping me down in a single gulp. Closer, closer. Only a thin sheet of paper can slip between our lips.
That little gap defines our relationship—a small separation, locking us in a constant state of love and war.
A bridge could have been built, but Galen burnt down all the forest that would have supplied the wood. Now, he will suffer as he shouts across the chasm.
And me? I’ll simply watch as he struggles.
“Your dreams start wars.” His eyes churn like soil being tilled.
“As. Do. Yours.”
“Allow me to show you what a nightmare is.” His hands shoot out. I yelp. Thorny vines seize me, clenching so tight they shred the sheets. Their thorns pierce the mattress and begin to make shallow cuts on my body.
Galen pauses.
I will not plead. “You’re too used to me begging you, Galen.” I lower my eyes to his cock. “It was my mistake to spoil you.” I smirk.
“Oh, Selene,” he purrs as he marvels at his vines, “you truly wish to turn me into a beast.”
He shakes his head, then pulls the rose I gave him out of his pocket; he spins the stem between his index and thumb fingers. The vines holding me grow tighter. My blood seeps into the blankets.
“You need no help.” I look away. He grows another vine that pushes my face back. A single thorn cuts my cheek in the process.
“I’ve heard you’ve come close to taking your own life,” he begins.
“During the war, you’d stay with the healers, working yourself into an exhaustive state of near death, trying to save your warriors.
Pouring your life magic into them, regardless of your own life.
Such a selfless act. A trait I wanted in my queen. ” He smells the rose.
“People are not ingredients at the market.”
He chuckles, “You’d be surprised, my beauty; I can take everything away. I’ll turn you into a mere object for my amusement, then store you away.”
This was why hate-sex was bad, because you hate the person, Selene!
I grind my teeth to flat horizons. I wish I had never let him between my legs. Some monsters cannot be changed.
“Some items are deadly if used incorrectly. It’s not the poison that is the killer, my sweet husband; it is the dosing. Careful, don’t take too much of me, or too little. You need to determine the perfect amount. You realize that now, don’t you?”
His cheeks redden, making his brown hair look more woodsy.
“You took too much. You will suffer the effects.” I push against the vines holding me down. “How dare you praise Everett’s killer!”
His inhalation is so deep, it steals the air from my lungs. “How dare you test me in front of my court!”
I sink back into my mattress, but I smile. Some animals can survive having an appendage cut off. They can regrow it. I’ll just mimic them.
“You are right, Selene, you are poisonous.” He sits on the edge of the bed.
I try to edge away, but his vines dig into me.
“Poisons can be mastered. I just need a small daily dose.
He reaches out and slides a finger down my cheek.
“A little taste.” His touch glides down my neck, then lower, between my breasts.
“Every day. Eventually, I will become accustomed to it.”
“There is no more of me to take. We are finished. This marriage is over.”
“Your death is the sole escape from this marriage. I’ve not tired of you yet.” A flash of his fangs makes my stomach knot. “I’m well trained in control. I never give in to my lust.”
“Lust and boredom got us into bed, not the need to make this marriage survive.”
“It wasn’t lust that made my cock hard. It was possession.” He palms my breast, finding my nipple as he pinches it. “I own you, dear, sweet wife. That’s what made my cock ache for you, and you liked that, being owned. That’s why you spread your legs for me.”
Cold air replaces his hand. He cups the rose in his palms now.
I spit back his own words. “It wasn’t being owned that made me wet for you, my dear, sweet husband; it was purely boredom. Any cock would have done.” I arch a brow, waiting for his rebuttal.
“If I had not seen you use your magic, I would have claimed your father tricked me, married me to the wrong twin.” He looks down at me. “All you seek is death and war.”
“That’s what revenge is built on, Galen.”
“Revenge should not be in your vocabulary.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, silly me.” I playfully roll my eyes. “Should only ‘let me suck your cock, my king.’ be the words I know.”
Oh, Selene, you don’t know when to stop. It’s too late. I’ll go down swinging.
“What shall I do with you?” Reaching out, he runs the rose down my cheek.
Stop petting me like a dog. Pets can bite, Galen.
I avert my gaze; escape proves impossible. His vines cover me. More crawl out from around him, covering the floor, then they creep up along the walls. They intertwine, forming a ceiling above us. No, a cage of thorns and roses.
“You seem to be quite the horticulturist; I’m sure you can set me aside in a pretty vase,” I taunt.
His smile is filled with amusement. Tossing an insult back, he allows black roses to bloom on the vines holding me down. “That sharp tongue…” He looks away, admiring the vines as if they were his children. “There are so many uses for it.”
“None that will please you,” I retort. “I’d rather bite my tongue off!”
“Your mouth would still be a hole to use, Selene.”
I buck against his vines. The thorns dig deeper. He twists and grabs my shoulders, trying to make me stop.
“I’ll never forgive you!” I spit.
“I don’t need your forgiveness, Selene. I am the king!” His shout causes his vines to squeeze me so tightly that I begin to panic.
He watches the fear seep into my eyes, allows it to linger like a fisherman watching a fish nibble on the bait, right before they reel it in; then he sweeps his thumb over my shoulder. His vines pull back an inch. I feel no relief.
My body shakes. “What we had before tonight will be the highlight of our marriage. Never again will I love you.”
“You never loved me. You never gave me the chance!” he seethes.
“The chance was not something I needed to place into your kingly hands, Galen! It was to be earned, not given. For once in your life, you needed to do something yourself. I am not a soldier who bows down to you, nor am I a trinket you can adorn your body with! I am a queen. I have rights, opinions, and yes, demands. If that is too much for you to handle, you do not need a woman as a wife, but rather a dog. Find a bitch to train. I will put up with you no longer. It’s my right as a woman to tell you, as demurely as I can, to kindly fuck off. This relationship is over.”
His silence could easily delineate borders and establish new territories within its vast expanse.
“You’re a queen. A pawn. You forget your place.” Is that hurt in your voice? “That’s okay. You will find it. I know you, Selene; I know how to make your body purr and hum, beg and shout. You think you crave love, but you need hate.”
He smirks darkly. He raises the rose I gave him to his nose and inhales.
“You love my cock. You will beg for it again.” He presses the rose to my lips before he places it between my breasts. “Vampires and fae live long, Selene. I’ve mastered how to play the long game.”
“Being an old player makes you blind to the rules, Galen. They will come back to haunt you.”
“I make the rules, Selene.”
I chuckle. “The mere fact that you think you do shows how deluded you are. Kings who don’t see reality don’t see the knives aimed at them. Sleep tight, husband. Careful who you invite into your bed; even a whore can get lucky and land a deadly blow.”
“It bothers you that I sleep with others.”
“Oh no, not at all. It gives me a break from having to act like I enjoy our sex.”
His lips press against my ear. “You need more acting lessons. Say that more passionately next time.”
The mattress dips. He stands, legs wide, chest proud; his chin raises as though the world itself bends to his will.
I curl my fist, wishing I could smack him.
“You don’t know the game you started, but in time, you’ll learn the rules. You kicked and screamed, and yes, I heard you, but now you will hear my silence.”
“Finally.” I dismissively roll my eyes. “Careful, husband, your jaw is clenched so tight, we wouldn’t want you to chip your pretty fangs.”
He wants to step forward. His heels raise, but then he flattens them. “Mark my words, it will be you who comes crawling back to me.” He runs a hand through his hair, watching me fume. “You’re losing your composure. I suggest you find it.”
Neither will concede. It will be our undoing.
I can’t untie us fast enough.
“Define the word for me, Galen. I don’t think you know its true meaning.”
Galen slithers to the door. “A queen needs composure in order to remain alive. It’s the impulsive ones who the people tend to overthrow and kill.”
He raises his hands; vines grow, replacing the door.
“Sweet dreams, Selene, or should I say, welcome to the nightmare you begged me for?” He snickers. “If you scream loud enough, I might just come.” He makes sure I understand every pun before he walks away in victory.