41. Princess Esemeray
PRINCESS ESEMERAY
Esemeray’s hands shook as she stared at the Whitlock brothers and the seven dead bodies scattered across the sand.
She had killed the remaining women—she had no control, as if it was something else, something dark, inside of her.
Sinful voices enveloped her mind, “Esemeray, Esemeray, Esemeray.” The shadows levitating around her fingertips seeped into her body, and those voices soon quieted.
Her brows bunched. She had heard the same voices in her bedroom before Aria pulled her out of her trance.
Do the voices belong to the shadows?
Riggs wasted no time as he ran toward her, removing his bloody white tunic mid-run. Her heart lurched into her throat.
Riggs is hurt.
Her vision darkened as dizziness claimed her. She collapsed, sand scraping her bare body, eyes burning under the relentless sun.
“Esemeray.” Riggs panted heavily, his knees hitting the sand as he threw his shirt around her. Killian made no move. He just stood there watching from a distance.
Her stomach plummeted with the fury in Killian’s gaze.
Riggs ran his hand across her forehead. His voice soothing her ears. “Are you alright?”
She nodded, tracing the punctures in his chest, blood coating her fingertips. “You’re injured.” She coughed, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.
“I’ll live.” His warm, calloused hands slid around her middle, his voice hoarse as he lifted her. “I told you I would find you. I had them.”
“I couldn’t leave you.” One moment, she was flying north like Riggs had told her to, then the next, she found herself sprinting back to him.
When she saw that thing sink its teeth into Killian’s neck, she knew she had to do something. Anything. As if her power were listening to her pleas, it unleashed without warning.
The shadows had saved them.
She had saved them.
Riggs carried her toward Killian, his arms banding tightly around her. He glanced down and murmured, “Try not to move, Esemeray.”
But even if she wanted to move, she couldn’t. As soon as Riggs had touched her, she could feel her power settling deep within her bones, chills pebbling her flesh as she shut her eyes and darkness claimed her.
Esemeray could hear distant, deep, rough male voices echoing around her. Her eyes flew open, her heart thundering. She blinked her blurred vision away and noticed light dancing along a rocky ceiling.
Where am I? How long was I sleeping?
She glanced around at the open, yet small, space and hummed.
The texture of the rocky walls and ceiling told her they were in a cave, and the rough surface biting into her side told her she was laying on uneven ground.
Her fingers gripped the blanket beneath her, and the fresh tunic that covered her body—no sign of Riggs' blood.
Those voices spoke again, freezing her in place. Esemeray slowly turned, and her chest heaved at the sight of Riggs sitting by the fire talking to Killian. Riggs was wearing an entirely different outfit, a chestnut tunic and black pants.
“You saw what came out of her!” Killian shouted. “She killed seven women.”
Esemeray flinched.
She protected Riggs—protected them.
Her shadows had been too late to save Mr. Pebbles, but not this time. This time, they served a purpose. This time their power was welcomed.
“I am aware.” Riggs' hands bunched into fists.
“She’s unhinged. She’s a monster,” Killian rasped. “She’s going to get us killed.”
Esemeray winced, her eyes swelling with tears. Mother’s right.
I am an abomination.
“Take. It. Back.” Riggs seethed. “She is none of those things!”
Killian raised his voice. “And to lie to me? To make me think I was hallucinating? When the whole godsdamned fucking time I was hearing her, and seeing her.” Killian’s chest rose and fell. “Fuck you, Riggs.”
“No.” Riggs' jaw clenched. “Fuck you.”
There was a heavy moment of silence.
Killian’s stern voice carried through the cave. “When were you going to tell me, huh? When you’re pleading for your life?” Killian held his hands out, cupping his palms and shaking his arms. “When the king holds your head in his hands?”
Riggs threw his head back and laughed.
“You think this is fucking funny?” Killian scoffed, throwing his hands up. “Of course you think it’s funny.” His face turned crimson. “You think everything is a fucking joke. I’m tired of it.”
“Well, what you just did, yeah, it was funny.” Riggs mocked Killian, repeating the same movements.
Esemeray gasped, covering her mouth.
“C’mon, Riggs, why?” Killian questioned, his voice lowering, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Riggs dragged his hands down his face. “I… It was complicated.”
Killian huffed. “Complicated? You kept a secret from me. A big one at that! She’s the fucking princess.” He took a calming breath, and continued, speaking softer, “People are looking for her…her people are looking for her. What do you not get?”
Esemeray’s heart pounded through her ears.
“You think I don’t know the consequences?
I was willing to accept my death if it meant touching her one last time.
” Riggs' voice raised higher. “I’ve already thought of every possibility, and guess what? I. Don’t.
Care. I lost her once, and I am not willing to do it again.
” His voice dropped. “We would have died if she were not with us.” He gestured to his chest and Killian’s neck. “She saved us, and you know it.”
Killian stood, glass rattling as he kicked over an empty jar. “She is not worth losing your life.”
The blood drained from Esemeray’s face. Killian was right. She hated that she couldn’t face the truth. If she were smart. She’d leave now.
But the thought of leaving Riggs hollowed her stomach.
No.
She wasn’t leaving him.
If it came down to it, she’d kill her own father.
Riggs stood, baring his teeth. “She is worth it. Every second spent with her is worth it.” He pushed at Killian’s chest. “If I’m as good as dead, I would die happy knowing I got to spend my last days on this gods’ cursed planet with her in it.”
Esemeray’s chest sank.
“You would die a stupid fool,” Killian said, his voice a lethal calm.
Riggs raised his fist. Esemeray’s heart clenched. She needed to do something. She willed her legs to move, but they did no such thing. No! I have to— “Stop,” she whispered, reaching out as spots danced across her vision.
Both brothers turned.
Shock spread across Killian’s face, while relief spread across Riggs.
“Esemeray,” Riggs murmured with relief, running toward her.
Killian squinted his eyes, mumbling something under his breath as he walked away.
Riggs crouched, scanning her as if he were looking for injuries. His calloused hand met her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. “I’m worried about you.” He roamed her body once more, his eyes burning with concern. “You need to eat.”
“Okay.” She didn’t object, her stomach had been grumbling since this morning. The oats Riggs had fed her hardly satisfied her hunger. “Riggs. I’m sorry,” she rasped out.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Riggs smiled. “Nothing okay?” He kissed her forehead. “Let me get you some food.”
Riggs returned with a bowl, steam curling around the ceramic.
He set the bowl down, sliding an arm around her waist, and his other under her arm, lifting her gently. “Are you comfortable?”
Esemeray braced her hands on her knees and gritted her teeth. She shook her head in jerky movements. “Just tired.” Remembering his injuries, she grazed his chest, applying little to no pressure. “Are you hurt?” Her eyes fell to his forearm, her stomach turning inside out. “Riggs.”
“Fine.” His lips went tight. “I took care of me and Killian. It’s only a few scratches, nothing serious.”
“It’s more than just a couple of scratches.” Her brows drew inward. “You need stitches.” She had felt the depth of his open flesh enough to know it was bad. The gouge running down on his arm was almost as bad as his chest.
He angled his head, letting out a breathy laugh. “Are you a nurse, princess?”
“No, but…”
“But nothing. I’m fine.” He brushed her lips with his thumb. “The only thing I’m concerned about is you eating.”
She nodded, accepting his answer.
“It’s tomato soup,” Riggs said, eyes bright as he held onto the bowl. “It’s something I picked up from Eddie in my village. He says it’s the best.”
“Thank you,” Esemeray said, holding her hands out.
Their fingers brushed as he placed the ceramic in her hands, a spark simmering deep within her bones.
Smiling sweetly, Esemeray lifted the steaming meal to her lips and drank the warm, savory soup.
First an overwhelming taste of tomato simmered on her tongue, then a jolt of energy, then strength, then something else she couldn’t identify.
She took another sip, then another, and another until she drained the bowl entirely.
Riggs raised his brows and grinned. “You want more?”
Feeling rejuvenated, she set the bowl down and attempted to stand. Her legs wobbled at first but then managed to stay on her feet. “I feel better,” she admitted, rotating her hands in front of her.
She didn’t just feel better, she was feeling something else…
something like arousal. Her body flushed, cheeks staining.
What was in the soup? Excruciating heat erupted beneath her skin.
“I’m hot.” Esemeray gripped the tunic, failing to remove it.
“Riggs, I’m hot.” Her fingers clawed at the fabric, yanking at the collar.
She murmured, “Rip it off! Just rip it off!”
“Slow down.” Riggs tore the tunic off her body, blowing on her neck, her chest. “Just breathe.” He ran his hands down her arms in comforting strokes, his palms cooling her. “Breathe, Em.”
She sucked in a full breath, her internal temperature steadying. Riggs continued blowing across her stomach, over her breasts.
“Just breathe.” Her core throbbed. “Thats it, keep breathing.”
She closed her eyes, focusing on the gentle sensations he was delivering with his mouth, unable to stop the moan escaping from her lips.
“That’s it,” Riggs said, fanning lower. His knuckles dragged across her chest, his breath trailing down her navel, his voice rough. “Princess?”
Why did he stop?
Her eyes flung open. “What was in the soup?” she asked, breathing uneven, grabbing the tunic, and shamefully covering herself.
“I don’t know, Eddie made it.” His eyes widened. “Eddie made it,” he mumbled as he ran toward the fire.
What was that soup? Her desire thickened by the second, her body craving to be touched—to be kissed.
Riggs picked up the jar, scanning it with intensity.
Esemeray flinched as Riggs shouted, “Holy shit!” and winced again as Killian bellowed, his voice low and deep like a rabid beast from somewhere deep within the cave, “Keep it fucking down!” She could have sworn even the walls of the cave shook.
Killian’s voice almost sobered her, almost, but not wholly.
Riggs approached, her pulse fluttering.
It’s getting worse.
The throbbing between her thighs. The wetness pooling there.
What’s happening to me? Her toes curled across cotton, tingles shooting up her leg.
“How…how are you feeling right now?” Riggs asked, bunching his brows.
Esemeray simpered at the sight of Riggs' muscles flexing as he slid his hands in his pockets. She pulled in her lip to keep herself at bay, but she may have accidentally sighed as she looked into his eyes.
His deep, dark, mysterious brown eyes.
Oh gods.
She swallowed hard. “Fine.” She was far from fine. She wanted to touch him—wanted him to touch her, wanted him to feel how wet she was. Her eyes grew heavy, and the closer he came toward her, the harder it was to restrain herself.
Riggs' forehead creased. “Esemeray, there was a magical spell in the soup. Eddie…the man you met in the shop in Aldmoor…” He scratched his head. “Well, he is a wizard,” Riggs gulped, “and you may be feeling?—”
Esemeray didn’t let him finish, not as she stood on her toes, slamming her mouth on his.
She moaned in pleasure and nearly shattered as Riggs' hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush to his body. The press of their lips was not close enough to satisfy her. She needed more.
Riggs lifted her up, gripping her ass. Esemeray wrapped her legs around him, not caring who heard or watched.
She wanted him.
She wanted him now.
“Esemeray,” Riggs panted, breaking their kiss. “We shouldn’t do this.” He swallowed hard. “Not here at least.” He set her down and rested his forehead against hers. “Esemeray, I know a place.”
Esemeray nodded. “Take me.”