Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Message
The healers finished up tending to Westley and warned him there would be scarring—again.
Solene had been sitting in the corner of his cell.
Instead of drinking blood from her carafe, she dipped her knife in it, licking the remainder from the sharp edge like a kitten to milk. Her tongue was spiked like one too.
As the botanical mages left, Allegra entered.
Her footsteps were always soft and her voice velvety. “Now I get to clean up the mess.” She tapped the barred door shut.
Westley huffed.
Solene clicked her teeth at him. “Shh.”
Was it his breathing that bothered her or the rattling chains?
Because both problems would be solved if someone would just release him from these hooks.
How long could he hang like this? He would’ve died already had it not been for the mages with green fingertips.
This wasn’t typical torture, it was stabilized.
With the queen’s ability to hurt and mend and hurt and mend, would it ever end?
“I can hear your heart galloping. Don’t make me get up,” warned Solene.
Allegra petted the underside of his neck. “Shh, please.” Her tone was odd. She’d been tending to his dangling body for weeks, holding her own against his attempts to bite her, but not once had she attempted to protect him from Solene’s vampiric advances.
What changed?
She set her basket of toiletries down, laid a towel over his blood-stained stool, and sat down.
She started working on his front paw, soaking and wiping away the dried blood between his toes, clipping his nails, filing them back to a point, and rubbing the pads with oil.
By the time she finished the second paw, Solene dropped her head against the rigid wall and started snoring.
Allegra shot up with her finger pointed at him. She moved to the bars, peering between them. After a minute went by, she tip-toed back, aligning her face with his snout. “Solene’s blood was infused with sleepy tea. The garlic is so strong, it masks all the flavor.”
Solene never slept, the dark circles under her eyes made her look half-dead. It was about time she passed out. But why was Allegra doing this? He scrunched his brows, trying to pull an answer from her.
She held his gaze. “There’s a message for you.”
He’d been trapped without communication; if she was here to talk, he wanted to listen. Westley poked her with the tip of his nose.
“Winter—”
A whine burst from his lips.
She covered his mouth, eyed a still-sleeping Solene, and flicked her blazing blue eyes back to him. “Quiet. It’s only tea. She’ll wake easily.”
He blinked slowly, conveying he understood.
Allegra removed her hands. “Listen carefully.”
Another blink.
“Winter wants you to know she’s okay. That you’ll need to trust her. To use not your eyes or ears, but your heart if you grow uncertain. Know that she is yours, much like you are hers, and that she’ll always come back for you.” Allegra swallowed, checking on Solene once more.
Westley went limp. Winter couldn’t come here. Ever. If he was allowed to speak, he’d beg for her to stay as far away from this palace as she could. She was safe with Everett.
Her eyes returned on his—so much softer than they’d ever been.
“I didn’t know your heart was taken, and for that I’m so sorry.
” She wiped his tears away and resettled beneath him.
While he processed Winter’s message, she started on another paw.
Soaking, cleaning, clipping, filing, and oiling.
When she finished all four, she chucked the blood-soaked cloth at Solene.
“Wake up, you fell asleep.”
The vampire snarled, snatching the rag off her shoulder. She didn’t stay angry for long. “Mm. Thank you, my sweet.” Solene wrung it into her mouth and used it to clean her face and teeth. “You take such good care of me.”
Allegra didn’t speak again. She kept busy cleaning all of the congealed blood, humming to herself.
Every stroke of her cloth against his underbelly made his stomach contract with pain.
What had the queen been carving into his underbelly all this time?
The wounds were sealed now, but all these scars must serve some sick purpose.
Winter stood nude on a gold-painted platform while the queen walked around it in circles, surveying her.
The long-sleeved red gown that reminded her so much of a blood owl was hanging beside the mirror across the room.
Emrys had placed it on the rack before he left, her last shred of dignity leaving with him.
He’d cleaned and sewed it to look like new.
The queen stopped short, bouncing her eyes back and forth between Winter’s nipples. Her deep blue gaze shimmered the way moonlight kissed a dark sea. Kaden used to look at her with the same hunger in his eyes.
How had she ever mistaken such an evil glint for love?
“Please don’t flick them,” Winter begged. The queen’s long black fingernails were as wicked as her magic.
“I want to do much worse, Winter. Why are they so symmetrical?” She slid her gaze down, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. “And your pussy, tell me what spell you used to clear the hair.”
“It’s not a spell.”
The queen flared her nostrils. “Then what about your waist? Did it hurt when the bone healer removed your ribs?
“I would never take out my ribs.” The last two might be floating, but they served a respectable purpose. “I prefer to breathe properly. Don’t you?”
“Not necessarily.”
Winter was supposed to be the one confusing the queen. What kind of Q&A was this?
“I don’t understand how it’s possible,” whined the queen.
“What now?” Winter’s tone was sharp. She was tired of being on display. She’d requested that the queen dress her, not study her.
“You’re perfect. It’s no wonder my dear brother loves you so much.”
Winter’s heart jumped, desperate to run away, find her mate, and never come back. Her plan to seduce the queen was going horribly wrong.
And it just got worse.
The queen stepped onto the platform, walked behind her, and stood close enough to touch skin. Her thin lips brushed the shell of Winter’s ear. “You’ll tell me where Kaden is.”
Winter shivered, firmly regretting this plan.
“I suggest you start speaking,” the queen added, trailing her wicked fingernail along Winter’s collarbone. “Because I don’t want to get angry. Not tonight.” The last words came out as a hiss.
“I don’t know where he is.”
The queen’s nail pressed into her skin, breaking it. “Liar. The mirror says he’s with you.”
The mirror?
Blood dripped down Winter’s breast, adding to the terror.
“Fine. We were together, but …” She went quiet, thinking.
Where was he? There was no way he was dead.
Impossible. He was used to being tied up for much longer than six hours.
In fact, Winter didn’t think this had anything to do with her ropes.
He was most certainly sulking in another timeline.
“But what?”
“I broke up with him again, so I’m really not sure where he is. You know he doesn’t love me truly. How could he? He used me and I hate him for it.” So much it made her stomach roll around every time she thought of him.
“Hm,” was all the queen said. She moved Winter’s soft curls away from her neck and nuzzled her face in. “He’s never gone this long without writing before.”
Writing?
Winter was well-versed in the concept of letters, but did he run a time traveling parcel service as well? That familiar throb started behind her eyes. She didn’t want to know the unknowns of this universe.
“So, I’ll ask you once more: did you leave him for dead, too?”
“No! And I never left you for dead, for what it’s worth. I saw you were still breathing. I had places to be. A bargain is a bargain.”
The queen exhaled sharply, stepped off the platform, and stomped towards the dress. “Don’t upset me, Winter. We’re supposed to be celebrating love.” She snatched the scarlet number off the rack and turned around, ire dancing in her eyes. “I think it’s time to get you dressed.”
Finally.
Winter had to flip the queen’s sour mood around. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I promise I haven’t seen him in weeks, and last I did, he was very much alive.”
The queen swaggered back to the platform. “I’m sorry doesn’t work in this court. Or promises.” She stepped back up, so close their noses touched. “But making me moan will do.”
Shadows danced from her outstretched hand. They swirled, forming finger-like appendages to take the dress from her arms. The way her magic could rip through twenty innocent werewolves in one shadowy hand and cradle fine silks in another was disturbing at best.
The queen clicked her tongue. “I’m waiting.”
To moan?
Winter wasn’t sure who was leading phase five, but she’d take her opening. She leaned in until their breasts were kissing. The single layer of black silk the queen wore left little to be desired, and her body was warmer than Winter had been expecting.
Their hearts pounded together, confirming one thing to be true: Winter wasn’t the only one who was nervous. She used the backside of her hand to caress the queen’s cheek. “Tilt your head please.”
The queen grinned as she slowly exposed the side of her neck. The citrus scent was no longer a hint, but a splash, like fresh squeezed orange juice.
Winter sniffed once more. “You smell amazing.” This wasn’t a lie. “You look amazing.” Also true. “And I can’t wait to bite you,” she said sincerely. Ceremony aside, tearing her skin off sounded nice.
The queen’s chest rose and fell as her breathing picked up. Her breasts brushed against Winter’s nipples with every labored inhale. Winter looked down, staring where their nipples met, watching goosebumps spread across her chest.
Who was seducing who exactly?
Needing to take back control, Winter took it a step further. She pressed her lips to the queen’s neck then swept her tongue along it.
Finally, a moan burst from her horrid mouth.