The Summer King Bundle: 3 Stories by Jennifer L. Armentrout

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Aric made a soft sound, alerting me to the fact that he was paying attention. “Aren’t you eager to strip bare?”

  The statement wasn’t worth a response.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d seen me naked, and at this point, what was there to see but scars and skin? That’s what I kept telling myself as I stepped into the tub. The water wasn’t frigid, more like room temperature, which was a vast improvement.

  I sank down quickly, seeking the little privacy the wall of the tub provided. Bathing with the chain still attached to my neck wasn’t exactly the easiest thing. The female got to work, as gentle as a wild boar as she scrubbed at my raw and bruised skin. I found myself staring at the dress where it lay waiting on the slab.

  Aric had moved closer. “I didn’t tell you why you’d be wearing such an exquisite gown, did I?”

  The female yanked my head back as she lathered the strands with lavender-scented soap.

  “You will find out soon enough, and I have a feeling you’ll be pleased.”

  Doubtful.

  A sense of deja vu swept through me. The Ancient fell silent, and my mind wandered, sifting through foggy memories as the female fae finished up. There was something he’d told me while I was bathed before. I’d been glamoured, but I’d been aware of what was happening. Images surfaced of Aric kneeling in front of the tub, his white shirt dotted with water. He’d told me something. Something about the mortuus and—

  My head was dunked without warning, and when I resurfaced, I sputtered as I gripped the rim of the tub.

  My thoughts were effectively scattered. There was nothing of any value floating around in my head anymore as I was yanked from the tub and then roughly dried off.

  The gown was lifted over my head, the fabric settling around me. I caught the two sides of the chest as it began to gape. There were laces along the back, left undone. The material of the dress felt indulgent, and it pooled like liquid around my feet. Even in the poorly lit chamber, I could tell that the fabric played peekaboo with what was hidden beneath, and I imagined that in brighter light or in the sun, there would be little left to the imagination.

  Siobhan had worn this to her wedding? In front of people?

  “The gown complements you, my pet.” Aric jerked his chin toward the female. “That is all.”

  My heart seized as the fae gathered up her tote and scurried from the chamber, closing the door behind her. I knew what normally came next.

  Holding the front of the dress closed, I stepped back.

  Aric’s gaze roamed over me as he approached. “With your hair, you could almost be mistaken for her.” He walked behind me, lifting the chain. “Hold this.”

  Swallowing down a wave of trepidation, I shifted the front of the gown to one hand and took hold of the chain with the other. Aric in front or behind me was equally bad.

  “She was beautiful.” His fingers brushed over my back as he picked up the laces, causing the sensation of a thousand spiders crawling over my skin to surface. “Stunning in her silver gown…and out of it.” There was a pause as he began tying the back. “Siobhan was always beautiful, even when she cried. Loosen your grip on the front.”

  I forced my hold to ease. The material slid across my chest, forming a deep vee that went all the way down the front of my stomach, ending in a point just above my navel.

  “She saw no one but Caden, even when he dallied with anything that breathed,” Aric went on. “He did not deserve her.”

  I turned my head to the side, ignoring how my face throbbed. The way he talked about her…” Understanding filled me. “You…you loved her.”

  The waist of the dress tightened on my bruised ribs, causing me to gasp. He chuckled. “Love? Did I love her?” He scoffed. “If my Queen were to ever hear that, she’d gut me.”

  Oh, if only I could get so lucky. “Did you?”

  Aric was quiet as he tied up the remaining laces. Once secured, I was surprised to discover that the dress truly fit. Definitely would not have before my forced dieting. The soft material didn’t chafe the countless cuts, which I supposed was better than the coarse shift.

  Aric’s hands settled on my hips, and he turned me so I faced him. “I was obsessed with her,” he answered, staring down at me. “I feel as if there is very little difference between love and obsession.”

  I thought there was a whole world of difference.

  “I wanted her. So, I took her.” His hand skimmed up my sides. “Just like I took you.”

  A wave of revulsion choked me. “I’m not her.”

  “You aren’t.” His fingers drifted up and over my arms to settle on either side of my neck. “And you are.”

  “I’m—”

  “You are his mortuus, and he will come for you,” Aric said, pressing his thumbs under my jaw. He lowered his head. “He will do anything to save you.”

  Panic exploded like buckshot. He was going to feed. “He’s not coming for me.” No one was. At this point, that was beyond evident. “Whatever you think, you’re wrong—”

  “I’m never wrong.”

  I tore at his grip, but it was no use. His mouth came down on mine. Shock splashed through me. His lips had never touched mine before, at least not that I remembered, but this—this time was different. This wasn’t normal. It was a kiss—a rough, brutal one that was like a kick to the teeth. I tried to twist away, but then his head tilted, his mouth opened, and his chest swelled in an inhale.

  My world exploded in fire.

  * * * *

  I didn’t…feel right.

  Sitting on the stone slab with my arms curled around my stomach, I shivered as I stared at the floor. I’d come to a little while ago, having no idea how much time had passed, only knowing that it felt like it took longer for me to remember…

  Remember who I was and how I was here, why my body was covered in slices and bruises and why one eye didn’t open all the way, but I…I didn’t feel right. I ached all over like I was coming down with the flu, and my stomach churned like a ceiling fan on low speed.

  And I couldn’t recall exactly why I was wearing this silvery dress. I had a vague idea that it was for something important.

  There was something I needed to remember, but I knew what I needed to do.

  Standing, I bent down and found my rock. My eyes crawled over the marks in the stone as I counted them. Forty-seven.

  My skin turned clammy as I worked at the next mark, scratching in number forty-eight. Resting my forehead against the cool stone as a sudden knot settled in my stomach, I dropped the shard. I focused on taking slow, even breaths as I tilted my head to the side—

  Then I saw it.

  Memories slammed into me with the force of a freight train. The dagger. I was going to kill Aric with the blade when he returned—

  Pushing back from the stone, I rose as my stomach shifted violently. I spun, careening wildly toward one of the walls. My stomach contracted and then heaved as I went down to my knees, my hands digging into the vines. Everything I ate and then nothing at all came up, and the retching was painful against my ribs and stomach.

  Only when I thought I was done, did I move. Rocking back onto my ass, I dragged the back of my hand across my mouth. The taste of bile threatened another round of vomiting, but after a couple of moments, the nausea eased off enough that I was able to push myself back up.

  The dagger.

  I needed to get the weapon.

  Staggering over to the slab, I knelt down and grabbed the grip of the blade. The bitter taste in my mouth increased when I saw the dried blood.

  My blood.

  I needed a plan.

  Turning to the closed door, I sucked in a reedy breath as I struggled to pull my fleeting thoughts together. All I knew was that I needed the element of surprise, and that I needed to be fast with a perfect strike. My gaze dropped to the dagger as my pulse pitched. I’d only have one chance. One. And if I failed?

  He’d kill me.

  I need you alive.

&nbs
p; Aric’s words were a jolt to the brain. I was important to him. It had to do with this dress and with…Caden. Aric was going to use me for something, but what that was, existed outside my grasp.

  I had no idea what Aric thought I was to Caden, or how he imagined he could use me. The King… I doubted he wished me harm, but he didn’t care—not enough to come for me, and surely not enough for me to be used as leverage against him.

  None of that mattered. Aric could show at any moment, and I needed to be ready. I needed to kill him. And afterward? I dragged the chain over my shoulder as I climbed back onto the stone and lay on my side, hiding the dagger in the folds of the dress. I wasn’t sure if I had realized this when I discovered the dagger, but there was no after once I killed Aric. I rested my heated cheek on the stone, my eyes glued to the door.

  I’d promised myself over and over that I would not die by Aric’s hand, that I would not die in this tomb. One of those promises I could not keep.

  I would kill Aric, but I would not leave this crypt. This was where I’d die, either by the hands of the other fae when they discovered what I’d done, or by starvation. The only chance I had was if Aric took me outside. But he’d stopped doing that many days ago, bringing in some kind of pot for me to use instead. It was unlikely that he’d release me from the bonds, and it was too much of a risk to wait and see if that would happen.

  Part of me hoped it was the former, because lingering any longer than I already had was just too much to bear.

  But I would have the satisfaction of Aric’s death. I couldn’t allow any other thought to creep in.

  My grip on the dagger didn’t loosen for even a second as I waited for the moment. And then it came. The sound of footsteps could be heard. I remained still even as my heart pounded as if it were going to explode out of my chest.

  The door opened, and through the thin slit of my one good eye, I saw only one pair of legs enter the room before the door closed.

  Silence filled the space between us, and the seconds ticked by. Every sense of my being became hyper-aware of where Aric stood just inside the chamber. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Or coming forward? Paranoia sank its claws into me. Did he know what I had planned? Impossible, unless he realized he’d lost the dagger.

  Then he moved.

  Aric quietly crossed the chamber, stopping beside me. My heart rate skyrocketed. “Why do you lay so still, my pet?” he asked, touching my cheek with icy fingers.

  A sensation surfaced, one of his cold fingers elsewhere.

  “Are you unwell?”

  Knowing if I didn’t answer, he would become suspicious, I said, “I…I don’t feel well, no.”

  That was not a lie.

  “Hmm.” His fingers caught strands of my hair, lifting them from my cheek. He tucked them behind my ear as a lover would. “Well, that’s a shame.”

  Wait, I told myself.

  “Perhaps I took too much from you,” he remarked. His fingers drifted back to my face, tracing the line of my jaw. It took everything in me to hold still. “All of this has taken a toll, hasn’t it?”

  He almost sounded genuine. His tone was right, as were the words, but I knew better. There was nothing kind or gentle about Aric.

  I sank into myself, cowering so that I could draw the dagger upward, keeping it hidden.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, lowering his head toward mine as he brought his fingers down over the band circling my throat. “At least, not right now.”

  Wait.

  “Later,” he mused. “Well, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

  Wait.

  “I suppose it will all depend on how you behave.” His head tilted to the side, and I felt the brush of his cold lips against my cheek. I opened my eye. “How long it takes you to pull yourself together now, for example.”

  Wait.

  “Admittedly, I have no patience for invalids or those who—”

  Jerking upright, I swung out with the dagger and slammed it into the side of his throat. Warm liquid sprayed against my hand and face, telling me that I had struck true.

  Aric roared, rearing back, but I followed, scrambling off the slab as he tore his head to the side, free of the dagger. I latched on to him, my knees clamped to his hips as he wheeled backward.

  “You fucking bitch!” Blood and spittle hit my face. “You stupid, fucking bitch!”

  His fist connected with the side of my head as I swung the dagger again, missing his neck but hitting his cheek. He shouted and went down as I tore the dagger free from his flesh. He hit the floor on his back, and my knees cracked off the floor. I slammed my other hand into his forehead, forcing his neck back and holding it there with everything—

  His head snapped up, breaking my hold. His teeth caught my forearm, ripping through flesh. I screamed, my body spasming as he rolled me. He tore his mouth free, spitting in my face as he gripped my neck, digging his fingers into my windpipe. I felt the air charge around us, and I knew he was about to use abilities I couldn’t fight.

  “I’m going to gut you,” he swore, blood racing across his face. “I’m going to fuck you and gut you right—”

  I swung again, this time catching him in the other side of the neck, and I didn’t let up. Using all my strength, I dragged the blade along his throat from ear to ear.

  Aric’s eyes went wide as he rocked off me, grabbing his neck. Blue-ish red, shimmery blood poured down his hands and over his white shirt. He tried to stand, making it onto one knee.

  “I’m not done with you,” I growled, shoving to my feet. The world seemed to tilt and sway, but I ignored it as I limped toward him.

  His mouth opened, but all that came out was a gurgle of blood.

  “Finally.” I gripped the top of his hair, yanking his head back. “You’re fucking quiet.”

  He grabbed for my arm, but I evaded him as I jabbed the dagger in for the final time. The grinding of bones giving way and the fleshy noise of sinew and muscle snapping turned my stomach as I jerked my arm, carving my way through the bastard’s neck until I reached the other side.

  My gaze met his. The luminous glow of his pale eyes flickered. “I hope you can still hear me.” My tongue felt thick, and my voice sounded mushy to my own ears. “I never submitted to you.”

  The pale blue light flared as his pupils constricted.

  I jerked my arm, severing his head from his neck. His body toppled onto itself, and his head fell behind it, thumping off the stone.

  I did it.

  Aric, the Ancient who’d murdered my mother, was dead.

  I did it.

  Chest rising and falling heavily, I took a step back from his body. Violet-hued blood ran down my arms and over the stone as I stumbled back. Eyes wide, I watched it fill the crevices between the stones, branching off as the viscous liquid crept across the floor.

  I looked down at myself. The front of the stunning gown was splattered with blood.

  The dress was so ruined.

  My lips parted, and I laughed as the dagger slipped from my blood-soaked grip. I laughed as my legs buckled and I folded like a paper sack.

  And I laughed as the blood flowed.

  Chapter 13

  When a normal, run-of-the-mill fae is stabbed with iron, they’re sent back to the Otherworld instead of killed. Their bodies are sort of sucked into themselves and…poof, they’re gone. No mess. No cleanup. Same happens when you kill them. They just evaporate almost immediately.

  The same cannot be said about Ancients.

  When you kill them, their bodies remain, at least for a little while. They decompose like mortals, but it’s rapid in comparison.

  I sat on the stone floor, watching Aric’s skin darken and start to flake, his stomach sinking in instead of bloating, and his body shrinking inside its clothes. That took minutes. The rest took hours. But on day forty-nine, the following day, he was nothing more than an oily, clumpy stain on the floor, and the seeping wound on my arm left behind by his bite had finally stoppe
d bleeding. I had a feeling that it needed stitches, and would probably get massively, grossly infected without them and some antibiotics.

  Unless there was a doctor hidden among the vines, there was nothing I could do about that.

  There was nothing I could do about any of the pains or the weird, random waves of nausea that ended in another round of vomiting either.

  But I waited.

  My knuckles ached from how tightly I held onto the dagger, knowing that there was no way I could take two or three fae at once, even if they weren’t Ancients. But I refused to go out without a fight.

  No one came.

  Not the female fae who bathed me, or the male ones who carried the tub in and out of the room. There were at least three of them that had to be aware of where I was held, who I assumed would come looking for Aric at some point, especially since he appeared to be their leader.

  Eventually, my attention shifted from the stain to the door. I imagined it wasn’t locked. Freedom was just a few feet from my reach, and I tried, stretching as far as I could. I did this for hours, and then I used the dagger, prying at the bolt in the floor and then the clasp that connected the chain to the band around my throat until I felt the blade about to break, and then I stopped. I couldn’t risk losing my only weapon if other fae did finally show.

  But no one did.

  Hours turned into another day, and that day slowly churned into more. I’d lost my grip on the dagger, letting it rest in my lap.

  Hunger set in, overshadowing the aches and the nausea, and all I could think about were burgers and steaks, leafy salads, and chocolate cakes. I even fantasized about all-you-can-eat buffets, and then I stopped thinking about food. Either my body and mind had become used to the hunger, or I just no longer felt it. I no longer really felt the coldness or the throbbing either.

  Bone-deep tiredness set in, a lethargy that wrapped around me like a heavy blanket, weighing down my limbs. I stopped tracking days after forty-eight, unable to rally the strength to pick up the shard of rock or use the dagger to scratch the mark into the stone. I didn’t know if it was the hunger or all the feedings or the wounds finally catching up to me, but I slept where I sat, propped against the slab. And then I couldn’t sit up any longer.