CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE #3
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the sound of my own ragged breathing and the distant crackle of the fire in his hearth.
I could feel my cheeks burning with shame as his eyes lingered hungrily on places I had kept hidden, cataloging every curve and hollow with the same merciless attention he used to identify weaknesses in his enemies.
The weight of his gaze felt heavier than his hands had been, violating me even before he touched me.
"Beautiful," he murmured finally, his voice thick with satisfaction and dark promise.
"More beautiful than I had dared imagine when I first suspected what lay beneath that clever disguise of yours.
" He brought his attention to my face once more.
"When I fuck you," he started, drawing out each word as though savoring a fine delicacy, "I will think of Arthur and how he wants nothing more than to have what I have.
" His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
"The mighty king, with all his power, all his glory—and yet I'll be the one with my cock inside his prize.
His precious new knight, defiled under his very roof. "
"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling as I made one final desperate appeal to whatever shred of humanity might remain in his twisted soul.
The words felt like broken glass in my throat, each syllable a surrender of pride that cut deeper than any physical wound ever could have.
"I... I've never been with a man before. "
The admission hung in the air between us like a confession torn from the depths of me. I watched his face transform as the meaning of my words sank in, his features lighting up with a perverse joy that made my stomach lurch. His thin lips curved into a triumphant smile.
"Today is proving to be one full of all sorts of unimaginable gifts.
" His voice rang with genuine delight, as though I'd just presented him with the crown jewels rather than revealed my vulnerable secret.
"To spoil Arthur's prize by taking the one thing he would no doubt sell his kingdom for—your virtue, your purity, your untouched flesh. "
He leaned down until his breath was hot against my ear, his words a poisonous whisper that seemed to seep into my soul.
The stubble on his jaw scraped against my cheek as he spoke.
"When I thrust through your maidenhead and claim what no man has claimed before, when I tear away that final barrier between innocence and ruin, we will both cheer our king.
" His voice dropped to a mockingly reverent tone.
"What a glorious toast to Arthur's reign—his youngest knight, deflowered and broken beneath me. "
I closed my eyes, hoping the pain wouldn't be unbearable and tried my best to picture myself anywhere but here.
Lance. Think of Lance.
"Look at me, girl." The sharp, cold crack of his palm against my cheek sent a jarring shock through me, forcing my eyes to snap open.
The sting spread across my face like fire, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out.
His pale eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction as he positioned himself above me, savoring this moment of absolute power over someone he saw as nothing more than a plaything to be broken.
The moment before Kay could complete his violation of me, though, something strange happened.
The temperature in the chamber suddenly plummeted with such shocking swiftness that it literally stole the breath from my lungs, leaving me gasping in the suddenly frigid air.
Within heartbeats, a bitter, bone-deep chill swept across every inch of my exposed skin like invisible fingers of winter itself, raising an army of gooseflesh along my arms, shoulders, and throat.
Kay paused above me, his brow furrowing in confusion as his own breath began to mist in the rapidly cooling air. The sudden shift was so dramatic that even he, even lost in his lustful fury, couldn't ignore the chill that was beginning to coat the entire room in frost.
The candle flames throughout the chamber twisted and writhed as though in silent agony before turning an unnatural, ghostly blue.
They flickered violently, then shrank inward on themselves until they were nothing more than tiny, eerie points of light, barely illuminating the suddenly frost-laden air.
A shadow by the door seemed to detach itself from the wall, sliding across the stone floor like liquid darkness given form.
The movement was too fluid, too intentional to be natural—as though the darkness itself had gained consciousness.
All the while, the room continued to spin around me in nauseating circles, the edges of my vision blurring and swimming as whatever drug Kay had forced down my throat maintained its merciless grip on my senses.
The silhouette wavered and shifted like smoke caught in an unfelt breeze, its edges indistinct and constantly moving before it began to slowly solidify into something more substantial.
The process was mesmerizing and terrifying in equal measure—watching darkness literally take shape before my eyes, coalescing from shadow into flesh and bone.
As the form grew more defined, I could make out the suggestion of narrow shoulders, a lithe frame, and the unmistakable bearing of someone accustomed to command and absolute authority.