Chapter 31
KADEN
It takes two more days of harsh riding through acidic lands. We stick close to the path, keeping an eye behind us. The Woodland Kingdom is without a ruler, and therefore, a made enemy.
But they’re a hungry bunch, looking for power when they can get it. With Aoife gone and Fenrir dead, Mal with us, lords will fight over the throne. Eventually, one will prevail and then come after us, but we’ve got time. We can cross that bridge when it comes.
Right now, my kingdom is the main concern.
The Black Palace appears in the distance. Zeke and a few trusted guards go off to scout the area, looking for our enemies.
After the last hawk, we know to be wary of Griffin.
Max rests in my arms, as exhausted as I feel. The journey has been long and full of anxious tension. Neither of us have slept well, nor have stopped long enough to do anything more than discuss routes or to give a brief touch.
She risked her life—gave her life, for me. And I’ve yet to show my appreciation. If I could, I’d take a long trip back to the summer palace on the Summus Mountain, far away from anyone, and show her my devotion daily. But that is not what can happen.
It doesn’t help that the memories still plague me, hindering any other thought. I can see smell the traces of Aoife’s perfume, clinging to me like a ghost that won’t rest.
The dreams are the worst. Two nights full of phantom hands touching me, the laugh of pure delight and my insane disgust, yet inability to resist. It still turns my stomach even though I know in my heart Aoife is gone. I killed her. She’s never coming back.
The front bridge appears, a cascading black arch leading into my home. It’s the only way in, though the rest of the palace backs up to the desert mounds. High black walls protect us from unsavory visitors and the gardens my mother once adored.
A few lords see us from the gates, calling for their soldiers in apparent shock. Their surprise slaps me in the face and I inhale. They didn’t expect me to come back. What a shame.
“Look at that, brother,” Reid mutters, one hand keeping Layla from falling off behind him. That girl has never ridden a horse before. “They’ve missed you.”
“Vultures.” Fee sneers. “All of them. They thought you wouldn’t return and they’d be able to have the pick of the throne.”
“Which one would you marry, Max?” Reid gallops to our side. “You know, if Kaden had remained all beasty. I think Lord Xavier is quite handsome.”
“Be careful with how you speak,” I murmur into her ear, fang nipping at her lobe. “I might kill him for crossing your mind.”
A smile plays on her lips. Gods, I’ve missed it. “None of them. I’d abdicate for Fee. Let her rule and whip them all into shape.”
My sister nods, pleased. At least we know who would take the throne if I hadn’t made it back.
“Good answer.”
We cross to great applause, dismounting in front of the doors. My soldiers bow, the lord’s kneel and a few servants jump excitedly.
I didn’t expect the welcome.
Last they saw of me, I had let my curse consume me and killed my father in a fit of rage and grief. Now, I’m Fae again, standing before them. Their king.
Will they hate me—defer to me? My mind races, but my face remains neutral.
Fee was trained to be the ruler far before I was. I was expected to be a threat until I learned control. Then I became a weapon. I was never truly taught how to rule—only that maybe, one day, if I could hold out, I might.
Now I am. And it’s not the first time I’ve felt outside my element.
Max holds my hand, both of us tired and dirty. She’s taken to leadership much better than I. She was born from it—Baris being a Fairy prince was a strange shock—and her mother led her Coven. Leading, inspiring, and helping is in her blood.
Only destruction is in mine.
“You’ve returned to us,” one lord greets, slapping me on the shoulder. Glaring at him, he steps away, the smile less dim. “We didn’t think you would. We’ve been so worried—”
“We left only days ago, Zander. For Bel’s balls sake, grow a pair.” Fee rolls her eyes. “As if my brother and sister wouldn’t have returned.”
My ears twitch. Fee referring to Max as family has a nice ring to it.
“And what of the Woodland Kingdom? Will they be coming to aid us?”
Licking my lips, I shake my head. The crowd seems less enthusiastic now.
“Aoife is not a friend to us,” Max says. Her voice commands them, and they watch, enraptured. I’m with them. My mate is a damn sight. “She is the reason for the curse that plagued the Moorgate family. And as such, has been dealt with.”
Gesturing to Mal, she continues, “We have the only heir of the Woodland Kingdom on our side and he is an asset. But we will have to make do.”
“We will fight the Humans,” I add, nodding at a few lords. Men who I’ve known my entire life—men who chose me over Zelos. “We’ve fought them before when they come to our lands to steal our kind. We will fight them now. And win.”
The crowd cheers, praising my family for their help. As if we would leave them to perish.
I understand it. My father very rarely helped his people.
Once inside, I ignore the advisors and dismiss them immediately. I have no time with them. They served my father—they will not serve me. “I’ll make my own council.”
There’s outrage, of course. Centuries of being the ones with power, and these Fae don’t want to give it up. I don’t listen. Snapping my fingers at my siblings, I say, “You two. You’re my council. Along with Mal.”
They’re the only ones I trust.
Grabbing Max’s hand, I pull her toward my room. Half way there, Fee stops me, dodging in front, arms out wide.
“They’ve already moved you.”
To the royal chambers. Now that I’m king, I’ve been put into my father’s place.
I swallow thickly. “No, I’ll stay in my room.”
“Everything is gone,” she explains gently. “Your rooms are on the top floor.”
I don’t move. Going there fills me with such dread that my feet are rooted.
Zelos’ bed chambers were a place I actively avoided. Forget seeing him with a female from his harem, I never wanted to be near him. Coupled with the last few nights stuck in flashes of memories from my time with Aoife, royal bed chambers are not a place I want to be in.
Max squeezes my hand. “C’mon. I’ll join you.”
“Fee,” I call out as she pulls me away. “Bring Max’s things too. Everything from my room.”
My sister smiles, crossing her arms. It’s not ordinary. Most queens keep their own suite, but I’ve been without my mate far too many nights. I will not be without her now.
“It’s already done.”
It’s a slow walk to my father—to my new room. My steps are sluggish, my lungs don’t quite take in enough air. Everything is suffocating and tight. With Max guiding me, I would’ve ignored everything and gone to my uncle’s old room.
My heart twists at the reminder. I always thought he would be my General, and then one day, retire to my council.
Bracing for the emotional impact, we enter the room and to my surprise it’s… different.
My father kept his space dark with lavishly decorated walls and pieces of furniture. Silver hung from every corner, and it felt sensual, decadent.
This room is stately. With dark walls, my art hangs proudly, my weapons from previous conquests hung with care.
The fire blazes and candles are lit from every corner so my mate doesn’t fall to her death on the balcony.
The sitting room is twice the size of my old one, with an office and more bookshelves through an entrance to the side.
Max sneaks a peek. Titles upon titles, all to her liking. This was Fee’s doing.
I push past, heading to the bedroom. It’s large, wide, with the balcony doors open to let in the red haze and soft scents of the parrot tulips my mother loved so much. Placing my hands on the banister, I inhale, stilling my thoughts.
It hasn’t been my mind in so long. The beast inside my soul corrupted it, used my body for his whims. Then when he was gone, Aoife’s magic invaded. Now, it’s mine again, and I can’t settle it. Everything runs around—all the plans, the thoughts, the needs weighing me down.
How do I lead everyone when I can barely breathe?
“Stop.” Soft hands slide around my middle, fingers ghosting over my ribs. I grab one, holding it to my heart as an anchor. “Don’t let it win.”
The thoughts, the worries, my mind. It’s never been kind to me—an anxious one, I’m used to being on alert at all times. When I’m not, it’s hard to steady it.
My mate knows me too well, she sees how I’m stumbling to compose myself. She sees how I’m ready to spiral and I can’t. Not yet.
“You’ve become perceptive.”
“I’ve always been perceptive when it comes to you.” She ducks under my arms, facing me. “Tell me what’s going in there.”
Too many things. I want to shout them out, release them into the void like the corpses I kill. But it won’t work. They stick with me like mold to fruit.
“I don’t belong here,” I confess quietly. “In this room. In this palace. I was never expected to make it this far.”
But it’s my birthright. Something I’ve been fighting for, planning for, since the beast was chained. And now, I don’t know if I can actually do it.
“You do,” she reassures. “In this room. In this castle. With these people.”
“I was always the beast. An attack dog on a leash.”
She cups my cheeks. “Your father put you in that role. That was never your true path.”
I lean into her touch, soaking up her warmth. “Then what is my path, love?”
I expect a catty remark. I’ve no doubt there are a few on her tongue, waiting to let loose after the trouble I gave her. I’m sure she’ll point out how she was in a dungeon twice since we’ve married. The irony isn’t lost on me.
But she doesn’t. She leans into me, soft lips brushing mine in a tender act that my heart cracks in my chest.
“Your path was to love me. And mine was to love you.”
Such a normal phrase, and yet, it heals the anxiety in my gut and stills the thoughts that cloud my mind. My path is love—to love her, to find our future together.
Love.
Sitting, legs wide and naked, I watch my mate exit the washroom, her body faintly pink and freshly clean. And in nothing else.
I’ll say this for the royal rooms. They certainly have the best fixtures. The washroom is three times my old one, with a tub as large as a pond. Neither of us wanted to leave, the herbal concoctions Max threw into the water, leaching away our pains.
My lungs refuse to work. Max’s eyes sparkle, her cheeks are deliciously flush and she still drips water, smelling of the spicy violets she loves. Grabbing her close, I pull her into my lap.
I inhale at her neck. She doesn’t smell like roses. She smells like she’s mine.
“Tell me what she did.”
Shaking my head, I swallow thickly. “Whatever she did, is bits and pieces that want to torment me. And I won’t let her have any more of me than what she took.”
She runs her hands through my hair, and lean into her touch. Here I can let down my defenses, enjoy my mate and just be. No longer the fearsome Dark Fae heir, not the Dark King, not the beast—just hers.
“Then let me help you chase away the bad memories.”
Max slides from my lap, hands running over my legs, her touch tantalizing.
Looking up at me, I cock an eyebrow. “What are you planning, kitten?”
She gives me that grin—the one that melts my insides, turns my mind into putty, and has me chasing her into every trouble known to mankind.
Her tongue darts out, swirling around my cock. My hips buck and I groan, nails digging into the armrest. Holy fuck.
“And where did an innocent kitten learn such a thing?”
She dips her head, lips nibbling around my shaft. Opening her mouth wide, she takes me deep until I’m hitting the back of her throat and I groan, fighting the urge to move. It’s hot and wet, and absolutely like finding fucking paradise.
Sitting back, drool glistens on her chin. “Remember the bard—”
Grabbing her hair, I tug her close, licking her chin, diving into her mouth. My tongue takes and plunges until the only thing she can taste is me.
“If you mention him again,” I breathe darkly, “I will burn this world to ash to find him.”
“Possessive.” She laughs.
“You are my mate.” I tsks, thumb rubbing her bottom lip. I haul her back into my lap, spreading her legs over me. I lean her back, her pussy on full display. My cock parts her lips but doesn’t enter her. “This is my pussy. My body. My mouth. No one else’s, understand?”
She nods, lips swollen, eyes glazed over.
Pinching one nipple, I smile as she moans, rubbing against me. It’s a tease to feel her, how tight she is, how wet, and not be inside her.
But I like to watch.
She snaps her hip upward, driving down to grind against my cock. “Fuck,” I groan, pulling her close. She feels like home.
“And you are mine,” she says, gripping my hair. I like hearing her be jealous.
“Yours,” I murmur against her lips and she starts to move. Fuck, I won’t last long with how she rides me, grinding, pulling, seeking her own pleasure.
I’ll gladly be whatever she needs. Let her use me, take me, I will only ever be hers.
“Whatever happened,” she whispers, words so low, I have to strain to hear them.
“Whatever she did, you are still mine. This body is mine. This cock is mine.” She grinds hard and I moan, fingers holding her hips and praying I last. “This mouth is mine.” She surges forward, stealing a kiss and my air, keeping it for herself.
“Everything about you is mine. You are my mate. My king. No one else’s. ”
She picks up her speed and I lean back, watching as she takes control. Her hips move and sway, a beautiful dance that seems made for me. A tingle, a tightening at the base of my spine rushes forward, but I hold back.
My thumb finds her clit, rubbing hard circle and she moans, head back, hair wild. She’s a damn goddess and I’m not worthy of her.
She cums with a shriek and my name on her tongue, and I follow her over the edge. My mouth clamps on to her neck, but I don’t bite. Just suck, leaving a mark as the orgasm washes over us both.
She falls to my chest and she pants, body soft and supple. I cradle her close, running my fingers over her spine, tracing the various small scars from her life. A hard life because of Aoife’s greed.
Never again.
“You’re mine,” she reminds me, voice sleepy.
I don’t move her, content to be inside of her. “And you’re mine.”