16. A Queen for a Queen
A Queen for a Queen
Matilda growled when she parted the curtains in the private quarter. Instead of being met with sweet freedom, she was met with bars barricading her newly appointed bedroom window.
“You didn’t think I’d let you go so easily, did you?”
Matilda whirled on Luka, finding the annoying man leaning against the wall.
“You are deranged!” she snapped, looking for anything that could aid her escape.
“Deranged? I find my plan not only ingenious but fair—a queen for a queen.”
“I’m not marrying you! It’s bad enough that we’ve had relations a few times.”
“Six.”
“I beg your finest pardon?”
“Six. We’ve fucked six times; once in the forest, thrice at Prince Lykaon’s castle, and twice in the carriage.”
“Our encounters obviously mean more to you than me since you’ve been keeping score,” she retorted with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“There is no use fighting it. We will be married in a month’s time.”
“King Alesi—”
“Luka,” he corrected.
“Luka… we can’t.”
“We can and we will.”
“There are laws against such unions.”
“That law is in the process of being abolished as we speak.”
“What about my reputation and my bloodline?” she asked skeptically.
“What about it?”
“I am Matilda Helsing, the last of my name, a descendant of generations of vampire hunters. I will not taint the last of my bloodline with your hybrid monsters!”
Luka smirked. It would be a miracle if she weren’t carrying his future heir to the throne as they spoke.
“Any other remarks?” Luka drawled, growing weary of her temper tantrum. Arguing was pointless—he could not be coerced into letting her go.
“I’d look like a hypocrite. I’ve spent my entire life preaching about your kind’s evilness and how you must be eradicated!”
“It seems the feeling is mutual. What else?”
“The sex is horrible,” she said childishly.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Of all the frivolous lies you could tell. I have you begging for it,” he snarled.
“That was the venom talking.”
“I would almost believe you, except I didn’t bite you in the carriage.”
“I was faking.”
“Please prepare yourself for supper. There are gowns in the wardrobe.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Luka ignored more of her senseless lies and opened the magnificent wardrobe, revealing a row of satin, velvet, lace, and tulle.
“Come hither, huntress. We don’t have all night,” Luka said, waving her to his side. “What say you?” he asked once she planted firmly by his side.
“May I?”
“Of course. They’re yours.”
Matilda’s eyes scanned the lavish fabrics of gowns she never thought would grace her body.
As a huntress, she’d never be able to afford such luxuries.
Her eyes caught a sheer white nightgown tucked in the back.
She slid the dresses aside and gasped. Luka stilled, gauging his future queen’s reaction.
He was a mess, and his heart jackrabbited in his chest every time her fingers caressed the material.
The guilt of his treachery was eating him alive, but his longing to see Matilda in the nightgown edged it out. “Do you approve?”
“It’s absolutely gorgeous, but I think Lord Gustafson would frown upon me wearing it to dinner,” she joked, carefully replacing it in the wardrobe. “He doesn’t like me very much, does he?”
“He doesn’t like most. I shall wait outside.”
Once he had gone, Matilda turned her attention back to the wardrobe, searching for something more suitable for dinner.
“This should work lovely,” she murmured as she observed the extraordinary gown. It was a simple black velvet dress with long sleeves. She adored the intricate gold stitching on the hem of the billowing dress and appreciated the matching cape that dragged behind her.
“Whose funeral are you attending?” Luka playfully teased when Matilda finally emerged from her room.
“Yours. I’ll finish what Beta David started,” she replied, accepting his outstretched arm. Her eyes wandered to Luka’s cheek, which sported jagged claw marks that trailed down his neck to his pectorals.
“Stop looking at it.”
“Be truthful. How close were you to losing to Beta David?”
“I wasn’t in danger of losing. I’ve been fighting longer than Beta David was a seed in his father’s balls,” he claimed, escorting her to his private dining hall.
Matilda snorted at his crassness. “How long until it heals?”
Scratches from werewolves could be toxic and often left their surviving victims with lifelong scarring; even vampires were not immune.
“A few more days, according to the physician.”
“King Alesi—”
“Luka,” he reminded her.
“I’ll never get used to calling you that. We need to discuss who hired me to eliminate you.”
“Another time,” he replied, waving her off.
“Another time? We must strike now. He has murdered children and has threatened to burn the tavern and kill my friends.”
Luka paused to address her concerns.
“Very well. Tell me about the man who hired you.”
He listened tentatively and nodded along as she divulged everything she could.
“Gregorio, you say?”
“That is what he claims.”
“You would think he would choose a more menacing name,” Luka commented.
“His name is not important,” Matilda said flatly. “There is a murderous hybrid on the loose.”
“Fret not,” he responded, shepherding her to the dining hall.
“I’ll have my men searching for him. It would not baffle me if he returned to Moonshire and is currently under Prince Lykaon’s protection.
However, I have more pressing concerns than a treacherous lowlife who was too much of a coward to handle me himself. ”
“True. But have you considered that I might be biding my time for the perfect opportunity to end you?”
“Nay. You would’ve done so by now.”
“‘Tis not too late.”
Luka glanced down at her, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“No,” he murmured. “It is not.”
His gaze lingered on hers a moment too long, silently challenging her.
“Well… perhaps I may be able to change your mind.”
***
“I suspect you are enjoying your meal,” Luka commented. His betrothed was sprawled out in her dining chair, looking as stuffed as the turkey she attempted to devour on her own.
“I think I’ve overdone it. Goodbye, cruel world,” she mumbled as her eyelids lowered.
Luka loudly cleared his throat, catching her attention. “I’ve heard that it is ill-advised for humans to go to bed on full stomachs.”
Matilda cracked an eye open.
“You have?” she asked with a lopsided grin.
“Yes. It is called indigestion. Have you ever heard of it?”
“I’m familiar, and it’s a pain in the ass.”
“So I’ve heard. We should avoid such an ailment at all costs.”
“What do you suggest, Ki—” she paused when he gave her a stern look. “What do you suggest, Luka?”
He politely dabbed at the corner of his lips with a dinner napkin before standing from the table.
“Hunt me.”
“Excuse me?” Matilda asked in stunned disbelief.
“You heard me. Hunt me, huntress.”
She didn’t have time to reply before Luka’s wings sprouted from his back and he shot out of a nearby window.
With a heavy sigh, she rose to her feet.
“This vampire is insatiable,” she complained, dropping her cape onto her seat. She snagged two carving knives from the table and stormed to the window, where she spotted the vampire king swooping through the air.
“I have demands, vamp!”
“Let’s hear them.”
“No biting!”
“No promises. Anything else?”
“Take me to the moon first?”
He grinned. “Jump.”
Throwing caution to the wind, Matilda turned and fell out of the castle window. As her body sliced through the frigid air, she wondered why she trusted her mortal enemy as much as she did. What was it that made her believe that he’d never let her fall?