Chapter Six #6
“This means if such a conflict arises, you must punish both the wolf and the other party involved,” Alisdair said. “Punishment for the violence. Punishment for provoking the violence by entering a forbidden area.”
I swallowed hard, identifying that area all too quickly. That dark, ominous pit. It was the home of bloodthirsty wolf faeriken that would’ve killed me on sight. The very pit Meallan tried talking me into entering. Instead, he helped me and let me go.
Why did he let me go? And what would’ve happened if I’d taken his hand?
“What if—” I cleared my dry throat. “What if you wander into that area by accident? Surely no one should be punished for an accident?”
“You are queen. You do not know the meaning of accident.” He rolled the map closed with a snap that echoed in my chest. “And you do not forgive them.”
“I don’t foresee me being the kind of queen you want, or expect.”
“You don’t foresee being my queen at all,” he lofted, crossing the room. “Isn’t your grand plan to escape through the dark, ice, and cold to the important things waiting for you in the kingdom of women-haters?”
I flushed. Again, every word out of his mouth was a dagger to my soft parts.
“Why should it make a difference to you what kind of queen I hope you to be?”
“It doesn’t,” I replied. “Because you’ll be dead by then.”
Slitted eyes tracked him to a darkened corner of the war room. He placed the map on the bottom of an overstuffed shelf, then waved his hand. Before my eyes, the bookshelf melted into the wall, leaving nothing but bare stone.
“How do you do that?” I blurted. “You’re not wearing any crystals. Unless, they’re... um...” I tried to stop myself, but I flicked down.
“You more than anyone know what’s in my pants, and it’s not coudarian crystals.”
Regret is swift.
A long, golden rope hung from the ceiling. Alisdair pulled on it sharply.
“Men do not have Mother Meya’s favor,” he said, surprising me again.
Anyone else would’ve called me impertinent, tried to slap me, or barked at me to shut up and waste someone else’s time with my questions.
It was strange comparing everyone I was raised to trust against the man I was raised to hate.
What does it mean when a good person treats you worse than a monster?
“We fight, struggle, and beg her for every drop of magic. Or, I should say, other men do. I brought Meya to heel a long time ago. Now, magic obeys my will. As all men do.” He looked me straight in the eyes. “As you will soon.”
Nothing. The answer is it means nothing when a monster pretends to be kind. He’s still a monster.
“I don’t know what disgusts me more,” I said, “your blasphemy, or your delusional fantasy that I will ever obey you.”
“Neither should disgust you. It is mere fact.” He stalked toward me, tipping my head back, back, back to hold my glare.
“I am now the god you worship. From the moment you stepped into that cauldron, you forsook all others and pledged your life, your hopes, your wants, and your body to me.” Holding my gaze, he slowly brought my palm to his lips.
I could’ve stopped him. Could’ve pulled away. But my body wouldn’t respond to the command. He pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of my wrist, scampering goose bumps down my arm. The other hand suddenly grasped my hip, startling a gasp out of me.
The thin fabric of my dress did nothing to hold back the heat from his touch. Pulling me close, he drew soft, slow circles on my back while kissing a burning trail down my arm—all the while holding me captive in his mesmerizing gaze.
If I was ever asked of this, I’d say he performed terrible magics on me, rendering me unable to move. But I’d know it was a lie then as I knew it now.
I knew what magic felt like. I knew it like I knew the well of trapped power, desperately clawing the cage around my soul. This was not magic or trickery.
No, this was all Alisdair Shadowsoul.
He brushed a kiss on my chin, teasing a sigh from me. “Kiss me,” he whispered. “My wife, my queen. Kiss me.”
Rising on tiptoe, my eyes fluttered shut.
“Kiss me.”
I frowned, blinking open—and locked eye to eye with the hideous, horned beast.
“Ahh!” I flung back and on a box of scrolls, tipping them and me onto the floor.
Alisdair laughed uproariously. “Do you see, sweet Ana? To deny my power over you is pointless. No matter what, no matter how—you’ll always end up on your back.”
“Fuck you!” I kicked and floundered under the avalanche of scrolls.
“It is that time, yes.”
I heard the creak and wheeze of the door opening.
“I’ll give you an hour head start tonight,” he said as I finally kicked free and got to my feet.
I huffed, boring a hole in his arrogant head.
He didn’t notice in the slightest. One of the servants came in, cleared a small table, and set down a food tray. Alisdair made short work of the apple.
“One hour?” I glanced out the pane window. It looked no different outside than it did an hour ago, or the hour before that, or five hours before that. “Why so generous?” I spat.
“It’s only sporting, considering you’ll need time to eat.”
I quieted, looking from him to the tray, then the door. There was no chance of me running past him. I considered trying anyway.
Relaxing, I shrugged. “Thank you, but no. I’m not hungry.”
My rotten stomach growled, betraying me instantly. Fruits, spiced vegetables, roasted lamb—their heavenly scent enveloped me. I wasn’t a stranger to missing meals.
Emiana was. Her body wanted food.
Now.
“I’m not h-hungry,” I repeated, voice cracking.
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not.” I casually inched toward the door. “I ate a big lunch.”
“Cease your lies,” he growled. “Your stomach has been trumpeting for days. Why are you refusing—? Ah, wait. I see. You have no hope of outrunning me, so you’re taking the coward’s way out by starving yourself.” Alisdair scoffed. “Pathetic.”
“You are so—!” I cut myself off, taking a deep breath. Why did a man I’d soon be free of irritate me so greatly? “No,” I forced out. “That’s not the reason. I just don’t... have a taste for Lumenfellen food is all.”
“You have yet to eat Lumenfellen food, so you know nothing of its taste. Again you lie, and again you do it badly. What is the real reason?”
I didn’t speak. My lips tightly pressed together. If I opened them again, I would shove that food in.
He hummed. “No, it’s not cowardice. It’s ignorance. You think if you eat our food, it will trigger the change.”
Shadowsoul read the answer on my face. Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose like I was tiresome. “Princess, it doesn’t work that way. I cannot tell you what triggers the curse, but I can assure you it isn’t food. The actual trigger has already begun its work.”
“What,” I cried, whipping around.
“Whether or not you eat will not change the result, or accelerate it. You starve yourself for nothing.” He shoved the tray across the desk. “Eat.”
I stared at the food for a long time, internal battle raging.
Incredibly, I didn’t think he was lying.
Everything around me was cursed from the plants, to the mountains, to the air.
The mountains were hardly eating roasted lamb, so it was never going to be as simple as refusing the food.
I only wanted to believe it could be that simple, because if I faced the fact that the curse was in the air I breathed, the water that bathed me, or the stone beneath my feet, I had to accept that another curse was taking everything from me.
.. and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“Very well,” I whispered, claiming the tray. “I will eat, but not here. You’ve given me an hour and I’m not wasting it.” I abandoned the vegetables and snatched up the rack of lamb and the mug of ale. “I’ll see you in the morning, husband...” I headed out the door, the lamb already half devoured.
“...as you’re weeping and waving goodbye to the back of my carriage.”
His laughter echoed through the hall.
I SETTLED INTO MY HIDING spot, checking and rechecking that everything was as it should be.
This is it. Finally the nightmare will end.
The doors banged open, blasting a whoosh of air that blew out half the candles, plunging the room in dancing shadows and smoke.
Alisdair stalked inside, fangs bared. He didn’t look like a husband preparing for a night of making love to his new bride.
He looked like a predator who finally caught his prey.
“Very clever,” he growled. “It took me an entire five extra minutes to find you.”
I dipped down in the bath, letting the water rise to the top of my mouth. Was it five minutes? It both felt like seconds and an eternity that I waited in my steamy, overly luxurious bath.
“Not clever enough,” I said, rising back up. “I thought filling the water with every scented oil, and the room with every scented candle would be enough to block your cheat— Oh pardon me, I meant you’re marking.”
Alisdair grinned at my scolding. “It was enough, little bird, hence you earning my compliment. I couldn’t smell my mark at all—”
“But then how—?”
“What I did smell was the thick, cloying scent of a bath that was all scented oil.” He tapped his nose, tsking my shame. “Let that be your third lesson of the day. You cannot hide what belongs to me behind what doesn’t belong.”
“Hmm,” I raised my chin, rising fully in the water. “A good lesson, but not one I’ll need to know past tonight.”
Alisdair ripped off his robe and threw the tatters into a corner. Sweet talk was over. “Come to me, Princess,” he said, palming his smooth, already-erect cock. “I regret that there is no hairy cat mole—”
My face caught fire.
“—but it will fuck you all the same.” He pointed down. “On your knees. Head down. Ass up.”
Oh, yes, the sweet talk is very much over.
“Hold that thought, and look.” I raised my hands, gesturing to the newest addition to the baths. “I got something in the village today. Something that’s going to make things much clearer.”
Scowling, he trained his gaze up. “A painting of you? Are you giving it to me as a... present?” The word sounded foreign on his tongue. “I don’t want it. Get out.”
Kakka. I strained to keep my tone neutral. “It’s not a present. Just look at it, then look at me.”
I pointed to the lovely, radiant picture of Princess Emiana of Lyrica, then pointed to myself, shook my head hard, then repeat.
The curse wouldn’t let me speak my true name. It wouldn’t let me write it down. It wouldn’t let me give clues to my identity. I couldn’t even describe my true face to the artist I met in the market square. But a painting of Emiana... that was easily done.
I thought of a million ways to get through to him that I’m not the princess, and he was teaching a poor peasant to rule his kingdom. In the end, simple was best.
His eyes narrowed to slits, the line down his brow growing more pronounced.
“Yes, yes,” I cried. He’s getting it. He understands! “Take me home. I have to go back—”
“Argh!” He jumped in the water, splashing half the bath in my shrieking mouth. “Enough of your presents and pantomime games. My tiny little fella failed to satisfy you last night.”
The face of evil. It was before me.
“Seven orgasms weren’t enough. Fucking you until you blacked out—twice.” He tangled in my hair, ever so slowly drawing my head back. Alisdair was daring me to stop him, and loving that I wasn’t. “Not enough.
“Clearly I have to redouble my efforts.” He licked a stripe up my chin. “I’m going to fuck you until all the water’s left this bath.”
“What does that mean?” I cried. “The bath doesn’t drain!”
But I knew what he meant. I knew all too well.
Our promise was that if he caught me, he was free to ravage me within an inch of my life, and I was the silly mare who didn’t even run.
Despite my ravings that morning, last night was the best sex anyone ever had, and I didn’t need the samplings of other men to know it.
Alisdair found every one of my body’s treasure troves and plundered it for gold.
I rocked back against the rim, brought my feet up, and kicked in his chest.
That doesn’t mean I’m making it easy for him.
He stumbled back and I shot past him—kicking and slapping at the water. I never did learn how to swim.
Claws clamped around my ankle and dragged me under.
The world disappeared in a soundless kaleidoscope of color. Hands grabbed mine. Threading our fingers together, he pinned my palms to the bottom of the water basin. No hesitation. No preparation. Alisdair buried inside me with one hard thrust.
My cry was bubbles in the water, floating to the surface to escape. I would not be joining them.
Alisdair started pumping, setting a furious, out-of-control, animal pace. Every breath I tried to hold exploded out of me in an ecstatic scream. Drowning has never been so pleasurable.
Alisdair was a monster. An evil, arrogant, impatient monster who used people as pawns, and crushed them when they ceased being useful. So why, in Meya’s wisdom, did he not fuck like one?
If there was any justice in this world, his true face would be as hideous as his cursed one.
His overconfidence would mask his insecurity over having a minuscule penis besieged by a hairy mole twice its size.
He’d be selfish in bed, hoarding his own pleasure and leaving his partner bored, unsatisfied, and cold.
Something that was not his hand slipped between my legs, found my clit, and rubbed it so vigorously, my back snapped in half arching off the floor.
If he was the monster at night that he was during the day... I could hate him so much less.
I hated that my body responded to him. Hated that I was choking on moans more than water. Hated that my mouth snarled at him while my pussy begged for him.
He was making a fool of me...
Alisdair’s lips pressed to my neck. The pinprick of pain smothered under my exploding orgasm, chasing away my rage at being marked again. Chasing away all thought entirely. The only thing that anchored me to reality was the shape of his smirk against my skin.
Yes, he was making a fool of me, and he knew it.
I WOKE UP ON THE BOTTOM of the dry bath basin. An unnaturally hairy arm slung a possessive grip over my waist.
Carefully, I wiggled free—stifling a groan over all the aches and sores that woke with me. Alisdair taught me my fourth lesson of the day. Never taunt him about sex... because he’ll prove me wrong.
Sighing, I glanced up at the painting. A simple plan, but I had faith it would work. At least it would get him to question. Wonder why I was acting so strangely, and from there he’d begin to wonder other things.
“It was never going to be that easy,” I said softly, getting to my feet. “Oh well.” I walked—limped—away. “Time for plan B.”