Chapter 23
Guinevere
I vow to myself to wipe the smile off Alaric’s face before I end him. I did not expect him to smile when he saw me, much less laugh as he pulled my knife from his back, but I see now what a monster he is.
I cannot believe how much I underestimated him all those years. I thought him merely weak, infatuated by my stepmother the way all the men seemed to be. Now I see he must have taken delight in hurting me and thinks somehow to do so again.
My gargoyles drag him back to the castle bound in ropes, gagged and helpless, and by the time we have him trussed to the huge wooden stake we set up in the courtyard, I’m starting to enjoy myself.
When I’m certain he cannot escape, I go to him and untie the gag from around his mouth. Then I draw my blade.
I want to hear him scream.
Alaric watches me, but his expression is impassive, calculating. I’m certain he still has no idea how far I intend to take this—to be honest I’m not sure myself. I know what I have planned, but I’m not sure how much of it I’ll be able to carry through with.
“Is my father dead?” I know the answer already, but when he inclines his head, it cuts me all the same.
I look away, blinking back tears as I reach for the iron poker to set it in the bonfire the gargoyles made for me.
The three hounds gather around, sniffing at Alaric’s feet, growling at his every movement. évandre, Corvin, and Raban hover, watching to make sure he can’t escape.
I’m composed by the time I turn back to Alaric. I straighten my back and put on my best regal tone. “Did she kill him?”
His jaw tightens. “You saw for yourself how sick he was by the end, princess.”
I frown. “That’s not an answer.” Neither of us needs to ask who is meant by ‘she’.
“She could have put him out of his misery earlier, but she chose not to. If you’re asking whether or not she made him sick, then of that I’m less certain. It’s certainly possible.”
Gods, I hate him. The way he says this so impassively, as if it is of no more importance than what color dress I might wear to dinner. “Why did you take me?”
“Because she ordered it,” he says simply.
I want to scream. Instead I keep my face impassive as his. “Of course. And you are her dog and never question her bidding.”
A knot forms between his brows. “I warned you not to cross her. You should have taken the marriage she arranged for you and been rid of her. Rid of this place. You could have started afresh.”
“With an old man!” I step close, pressing the blade of my knife to his throat in anger. He does not flinch.
“Who would have died, leaving you as free as she is.”
How dare he? How dare he throw in my face the way she used my father! I pull the knife from his throat, dragging the tip down his chest, cutting open his shirt, and scoring a long harsh line down his bare skin. It does not bleed. Perhaps I needed to score deeper.
He watches me cooly. “Are you angry with me, princess, for telling you the truth? You never liked to hear it.”
“Do not try to make this about me,” I spit. “This is about you. The monster that dragged an innocent girl into the woods and ruined her. Ruined me. You thought you’d left me for dead, didn’t you?”
“I made sure of it before I left you.” There’s nothing but ice in his veins.
Well, a fire burns in mine. I toss my knife aside, reaching for the iron, holding the red hot metal up to his face. “Enough talking.”
When he doesn’t turn away, impulsively I press the hot iron to his skin. There’s a sizzle. He holds completely still, but I’m pleased to see the muscles jump in his cheek.
When I pull the poker away, there’s an ugly black mark on his skin.
“You mean to make me suffer, then.”
“Like I said, I mean to make you pay.”
“Then do your worst, princess, but you will not kill me this way.”
I ignore his words. I don’t want to kill him anyway. Not yet. “Turn him.”
The gargoyles leap into action. évandre unties the ropes that bind Alaric to the stake, and Corvin and Raban drag his wrists around it until he’s bent over for me.
I step close, reaching around him to the fastening of his belt.
Does he know yet what I have in mind? I wonder if he guesses as I unlatch the belt and let his trousers drop to the ground, kicking his legs apart and looking down at him spread open for me.
I’ll repay like for like until I tear the heart from his chest and leave him in the forest as good as dead.
I hold out my hand, and évandre hands me the wooden cock Corvin carved for me. “Are you sure, Guin?”
I frown at the worried look on his handsome face. “Of course I’m sure.”
I am pleased when I show the wooden member to him and see the first hint of trepidation on Alaric’s face. “Be careful, princess. You rival your stepmother for ruthlessness.”
“If I’m a monster, then who is responsible for that?” I snap. I press the tip of the hard wooden shaft to his ass, satisfied when he jumps. “I’ll open up your hole like you did for me. And I hope it hurts just as much.”
Without waiting, I spit on the shaft and spear it forward, smiling when he grunts, forcing it deeper inside him. It’s so tight I have to pull back and shove forward again. This time I push past whatever barrier within him held me out, and the shaft sinks deep inside his ass.
Alaric lets out a muffled moan. I hope it aches deep inside him as I plunge that thing in and out of him. I pull it back only to shove it deep again, over and over until his knees buckle.
Raban, Corvin, and évandre watch me with fascination, and I must admit, the longer it goes on, the more a wild joy sparks to life within my belly.
I love the way the dark wood impales his ass.
It drives me on, and I find myself stabbing it into him violently, aware of nothing for a moment but the jab, jab of my thrusting hand.
Finally he cries out. I stop and pull the wooden cock from his body, casting it aside.
“Guinevere?” Alaric’s head hangs down between his arms. He is shaking. “What have you become?”
Indicating to the gargoyles to turn him again, I stand over him with my hands on my hips as he sinks to the ground with his hands bound behind him around the pole. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Alaric swallows. “Beautiful. But by the gods, terrifying too.”
The wild anger leaps at his words, and my smile grows. Is my enemy defeated at last? I hold out my hand, and this time évandre gives me my sword. “Have you any last words?” I say to Alaric.
“They won’t be my last unfortunately.”
I roll my eyes. Does he think I’ll spare him?
I press the point of the sword to his chest over his heart. “Speak them now if you would.”
He shakes his head sadly. “You are wasting your time.”
Impatient with his nonsense, I take one last look at the face of the man who ruined all my hopes at a future. Has he suffered enough? Probably not. But I’m tired of his whining.
I thrust forward, impaling him now with my blade rather than the wooden cock. The sword sinks deep, the edge so sharp there’s less resistance to my invasion than when I fucked him.
Alaric winces. He lets out a long groan. I hold still expecting blood, but nothing flows from him.
I withdraw the sword, but there’s still nothing. I stab again. Then again and again, but each time the blade comes out with only a thick black smear dirtying its length.
I step back.
Alaric’s laughter is half crazed. His eyes wild. “Do you… believe me now, princess?” He spits upon the dirt.
I stare.
I stabbed him through the heart over and over and yet he will not die. Then a sick recognition fills my belly, making bile rise in my throat. “What are you?”
“What are you? Did you die when the dire wolves attacked you?”
I blink. “How did you—?”
His blue eyes flash with an eerie light. “No. You did not. Things like you and I do not die so easily, but there is one way.”
I glare at him. “What trick is this? You want me to kill you?”
His wild laughter dies with a sob. “I want you to end it, Guinevere.” With a grunt, he struggles to his feet and presses his chest against the tip of the blade I’m still holding.
“After you help me end the one who made me this way.” The wounds have already begun to close, but I’m not really paying attention. I’m staring at him in disbelief.
“Melantha?”
He nods. “Help me do it and you may do what you will with me.”