Chapter 6
His chains, my throne
LORIEN
I wake to the sound of my heart beating.
It’s a dull, rhythmic drum in my chest, steady and unhurried.
My chambers are dark, as they always are, the flickering light of bioluminescent lanterns casting cool blue shadows across the gilded walls.
The bed beneath me is silk and velvet, a cocoon of opulence, but it feels empty, as it always does.
I let my eyes drift across the room and there he is.
Jude.
Asleep on the couch, still shackled.
His body is sprawled awkwardly, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
The chains around his wrists glint faintly, catching the blue light, and his skin looks pale, almost luminescent in the dimness.
There’s a tension in him even in sleep, a tautness to his limbs like he’s ready to bolt the moment his eyes open.
I allow myself the faintest smirk. He won’t be running anywhere. Not here. Not ever.
Yesterday’s events play through my mind, sharp and vivid.
The way his body fought mine, defiance burning in his eyes even as he shuddered beneath my touch.
The scent of his fear mixed with something far more primal.
His denial had been as unyielding as the chains now binding him, and yet… his body betrayed him.
That betrayal intrigues me more than anything else.
It’s been decades since I allowed a human to step into my realm.
Longer still since I took one as a lover.
The last time was unfortunate. I push the memory away before it can fully surface.
It’s a wound that never healed properly, a scar I refuse to examine too closely.
Suffice it to say, it ended in blood and ash. And I swore never again.
And yet, here he is.
Jude is different.
I can feel it, even if I don’t fully understand it. There’s a wildness to him, a fire that I haven’t seen in a long time. He’s not like the others—those weak, simpering creatures who would have given anything for my attention.
No, he hates me.
I see it in his eyes, in the way his muscles coil every time I get too close. He’s fighting me with everything he has, and it makes me want to break him all the more.
But he wants this too. I’m sure, and my lust isn’t clouding my judgment. He hasn’t experienced anything like what we did last night, and he doesn’t know what to make of me.
Or of his attraction to a male.
He’s going to need time if he’s going to accept this at least semi-willingly. More than I’d like to give him. I could force him into submission, but I find myself wanting it to be given.
He’s Helena’s last blood relative, and I want him on his knees before me, submitting to me completely as he gives me a pleasure I’ve rarely known.
And I want him to want this. To give himself to me. To let me use him, to do with him what I want because it pleases him.
It’s an inconvenience, but there it is, and maybe a little patience will go a long way.
I’ve struggled to keep myself entertained recently, and the pleasures of my position and my court have grown tedious.
The human is a distraction, but a pleasant one, and he could be more than that if he truly holds Helena’s powers.
A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Enter,” I call, my voice low and steady.
The door opens, and Soren steps inside. He’s dressed in the fine silks and armor typical of his station, his dark hair slicked back, and his sharp features twisted into a smirk that mirrors my own.
Soren has been my confidant for centuries, one of the few I trust implicitly.
He’s also insufferably nosy, which is precisely why he’s here.
“Is it true, then?” he asks, his voice dripping with curiosity as he strides into the room. His gaze flicks to the couch, and the smirk deepens. “You’ve brought a human here? I thought I was hearing things when the servants whispered about it.”
I rise from the bed, stretching lazily as I cross the room.
“Rumors travel fast, as always,” I say, my tone light. “But yes, it’s true. A human crossed into my kingdom and the guards brought him here. I’ve claimed him and now I will do with him as I want. As is my right, Soren.”
He raises an eyebrow, stepping closer to the couch to get a better look.
“And what, exactly, do you plan to do with him? He doesn’t look like much of a specimen. He’s scrawny, for one thing. His hair is a matted mess. And his smell…” He wrinkles his nose. “Is dreadful.”
I chuckle softly, moving to stand beside him. “He’s a work in progress. But there’s potential there.”
“Potential?” Soren scoffs. “For what, Lorien? Target practice?”
“For much more than that,” I reply, my voice turning colder. I step past him, approaching the couch where Jude sleeps. I can feel Soren’s eyes on me, his curiosity palpable.
“I might make him my concubine,” I say simply, letting the words hang in the air.
Soren’s laugh is sharp and incredulous. “Your concubine? You can’t be serious.”
Jude stirs and I find myself irritated. I’m riled that one of my closest companions has disturbed the slave who’s sleeping on my couch. It’s unnatural, unexpected, and I wonder how possessive I will become after I’ve fucked the creature.
I turn to face Soren, my expression hardening.
“Oh, I’m serious. He will be trained to serve me in every way. To please me.” My eyes flick back to Jude, still asleep, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. “It won’t be easy, of course. He’s stubborn, resistant. He’ll try to fight, but I like a challenge, and I enjoy winning more.”
Soren’s smirk falters, replaced by something akin to concern.
He’s remembering that from time to time, I tire of my playthings, and that doesn’t end well for those concerned.
They were discarded as broken toys after I’d become weary of defeating them, and for a few decades, my moods were more erratic as I searched for any other conquest.
Not everyone survives being my challenge, but I have a strong suspicion Jude will.
“Lorien,” he says carefully, “you remember what happened the last time, don’t you? This fixation of yours. It didn’t end well.”
I stiffen at his words, my jaw tightening. “This is different.”
“Is it?” he presses, stepping closer. “Because it seems to me you’re walking the same path all over again. You’re playing with fire, Majesty. And you know how that always ends.”
I glare at him, my patience thinning. “Enough, Soren. I don’t need a lecture.”
I pace the room, my bare feet soundless against the cold stone floor.
The bioluminescent lanterns flicker faintly, their blue glow reflecting the restless churn of the ocean beyond the glass wall.
Outside, the waves crash and seethe, their roar muted but ever-present, a reminder of the power I wield and the domain that bends to my will.
The water seems agitated today, as if mirroring my thoughts.
I turn away from the view, the motion of the tides doing little to calm the tempest inside me.
The ocean’s tides change again, and I turn away from them, my attention returning to Jude.
“He’s not like the others,” I say quietly, more to myself than to Soren. “There’s something about him. I can’t explain it.”
Soren snorts. “You always had a taste for the dramatic.”
I ignore him, my eyes tracing the lines of Jude’s face. Even in sleep, there’s a defiance to him, a stubbornness that refuses to be subdued. It’s infuriating and fascinating all at once.
“He’s Helena’s nephew.”
I hear the sucked breath, and I don’t need to see Soren’s expression.
He knows the implications, and he knows the game I’m playing is different this time.
He was there when Helena and I forged our agreement to broker the peace between her world and mine.
She bound her magic to the land and my power was confined to the sea, and we agreed she would contain the kelpies and stop them from becoming more of a bother than they invariably were.
I could, of course, manage them without her, or anyone’s, help.
But I saw little point in doing something myself when I could have her do it for me.
“He looks unwell,” Soren says.
“He was brought under by the moirai,” I say nonchalantly. “The guards found him on some reef, fending off a few kelpies. He was cold and wet, and he’s had a long night.”
Soren studies me for a moment before shaking his head. “He’s hungry, Lorien. Humans need to eat. Regularly. Properly. They’re fragile creatures and you never pay enough attention to their needs. This is part of why it’s a bad idea for you to take him.”
“He’s fine.”
“He is not,” Soren says, firmly. “He’s exhausted. He’ll die within a week at this rate. Feed him, Lorien. Clothe him properly and keep him warm. And for tide’s sake, explain to him that you are King of the Mer and give him time to process this brave new world he’s been pulled into.”
With that, he turns and leaves, letting the door close softly behind him. I stare at Jude, wondering if the human really is as unwell as my advisor seems to think. He’s pinker than he was last night, and he seems peaceful. Almost content.
He also looks a little worn, but facing a moirai is no small feat, especially if you’re human. They’re creatures of the dark and they drag you into it, pulling you down to the depth of the ocean and crushing your soul as you sink toward death. It’s beautiful. Painful, agonizing, but exquisite.
Admittedly, his neck looks sore where the collar branded him, but that’s to be expected. It’ll heal—eventually.