The Cruel Fae King: A Sexy Fantasy Romance Series (The Cursed Kingdoms Series Book 1)

by A. K. Koonce

  His fingers skim along my naked thigh, and he stares down on me with a hesitant look.

  He’s just as confused about our relationship now as I am, it seems.

  “Get dressed, Syren,” he quietly whispers.

  I roll my eyes, finding the other scattered pieces that belong under my dress and slipping them on. Everything feels wrong against my skin, the only right thing being Bear’s touch. I clamp my mouth shut, uneasy and confused by this genuine feeling of need that now plagues me.

  “Now we are really going to be late.” I smirk at him, and I can’t explain how loud my heart is pounding against my chest as I stare at him.

  There’s a dark smile against his lips as he grips the door handle and looks back at me. “I’ll be in the ballroom waiting for you. If you aren’t there in five minutes, don’t think that I won't drag you there by your pretty blue hair.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” I say, blowing him a mocking kiss as he strides out of the room.

  Twenty

  The Scent of Love

  Bear

  The smile on Miranda’s arrogant face could crack glass.

  “You smell nice,” he says through his wolfish smile.

  “Fuck off,” I whisper back, pulling at the collar of my new shirt.

  She ripped my other. Tore it in the most needy way. Like she wanted me.

  And for just a little while, neither of us said nasty things to each other. For one single moment, we really were mates…

  “You smell like fresh pussy.” Miranda’s excited gaze darts across my face so fast I know he’d see my fist before I ever shoved it through his skull.

  “You’re not very discreet,” I whisper once more, passing a blushing woman a smile as she shuffles by, hearing every word that was just spoken.

  There are more people filling the ballroom than I expected. And that means there are more people here to overhear Miranda’s bluntly obnoxious words.

  “Everyone here can smell you. Just tell me already. Did she agree finally. Did you… apologize for getting off on the wrong foot. Did you tell her you loved her?”

  I shake my head slowly.

  Apologies and love. That’s what he equates our relationship to.

  My stomach sinks as I realize I didn’t do any of those things.

  I’m not good at those things.

  I’m not good at being with Syren or being who she needs me to be. Even if I do trust her more than I trust the advisors of my own kingdom. Trust and love aren’t the same thing.

  But they could be. Someday.

  Unless I fuck it up.

  Again.

  Twenty-One

  An Announcement

  Syren

  Finding my way through the shifting halls to the ballroom is the least annoying thing I have to do. Being present at this party I never wanted definitely tops the list. At the top of the long and daunting staircase, I’m able to see the crowded dance floor.

  A band of stringed instruments plays cheerful music that leaves the masses swaying with their goblets of red wine. Every elf, troll, and fae that attended the Cursebreaker festival is likely here in this room. More bodies than I could even bother to count fill the space.

  A waiting fae attendant signals another with the snap of his fingers. Bear turns from his conversation at the bottom of the stairs and locks eyes with me. I look nothing like I had. My hair is tousled in long messy waves over the frayed, tattered pieces of the dress that never got to see the light of day in its perfection. There’s so much material here and there, it just billows around me in a hectic but natural way. And the slit, it climbs all the way up to my hip bone. And now everyone will definitely believe the scandalous water fae princess doesn’t wear undergarments. With every step, the smooth skin of my legs shows between the open cut in the fabric, and my shoes sparkle like an eye-catching wonder beneath the twinkling magical stars.

  Bear’s mouth parts before he purses his lips. His torn shirt has been exchanged for a new one which makes it appear as if we never did what we just did. He offers his arm when I reach the bottom step.

  Music slows as he leads me out onto the dance floor. “You were supposed to get dressed in something that wasn’t tattered,” he grinds out quietly.

  “You picked this dress for me, did you not? I couldn’t let it go to waste.”

  His hand snakes around my waist, pulling me firmly to him. We step in time with the music. Shiny locks of brown hair gleam under the silver crown with twisted spikes of metal that point up toward the glowing chandeliers and starlight above. His eyes look duller than they did earlier when the ferocity of attraction overtook us both.

  No longer are they the deep fervid pools of raven wings and ebony ash, but instead, they’ve returned to their relaxed golden amber color. So relaxed, he almost seems bored.

  He’s different now with the weight of that crown on his head.

  Earlier, it felt like we were in a dream. One where we didn’t have to be King and Queen of an ill-fated land. Or the admired but not-so-perfect princess and the barbarous and hard-hearted king fated to save the kingdom. Rolling around the thick bedding together, we were only two people who needed one another.

  The dream has come crashing to an all-too-real halt now that I’m dancing with him on the ancient polished floors of the castle in front of royalty and peasants alike. It almost feels like a nightmare. The hard-hitting reality of exactly what I’m here to do feels like the sting of a slap that strikes my heart.

  “Are you not happy to see such a good turnout?” Bear looks across the enormous crowd.

  I give him an empty stare. We’re always going to be that terribly-fated couple, aren’t we? Fate hate. That’s what we have between us.

  If things were different, I imagine I would love this party. I imagine I would love Bear. Before the island, he was bound to be my escape from an unloving home. A fairytale coming true. We were going to break the curse, and it was going to be together.

  But I’m not sure I believe in the curse anymore. I’m not sure I believe that together, we can be what everyone is hoping for like their Goddess Celeste promised that witch all that time ago. And it scares me.

  “You wanted this. I couldn’t care less if the whole kingdom came or if it was only us.”

  I catch sight of Miranda behind him, watching us with a plastered tense smile as though he knows we are only minutes apart from an all-out brawl. The count and countess I met before are smiling and chatting with another couple, who hang on their every word. I scan the crowd for other familiar faces. Donovan meets my gaze and raises a bubbling champagne glass from where he lounges with a pretty young blonde on his lap. In a far corner, my father talks animatedly with a group of his own friends but he’s oblivious to me entirely.

  I tense, gripping Bear’s hand tighter as we move with the crowd of dancers, flowing around the enormous room.

  Bear’s lips slash into a long, low frown as he studies me, and my big eyes watch him right back.

  “Syren, everything I do is for this kingdom. I know how to be their king, and I’ll do everything I can for them. This party isn’t for you or for me, it’s for the people. If you’re looking for a king who will come along and sweep you off your feet, it isn’t me. So I wish you’d stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” My open skirt twirls around me, flashing hints of my long slim legs and those dazzling, eye-catching heels as he spins me out and brings me back. Our chests meld as we breathe the same air, and our noses brush slightly.

  “I’ll screw this up. I don’t know how to do this right.” His breath releases in a huge exhale against my neck. “Just don’t look at me like I’ll be your hero.”

  I know Bear will never be my hero. The hardest lesson I’ve ever learned was that if someone was going to take care of me, if someone was going to love me, it was going to be me. I don’t need Bear to be those things. Though even after he says it, I still want to believe that somewhere inside of him he wants to be all those things for m
e and more.

  The dance slowly comes to an end, the band lowering their volume until they emit no more sound. Above the floating chandeliers, the stars shift into a perfect picture of the evening sky. Purple clouds cover the hazy gray heavens.

  Loud, booming pops of color explode overhead. Fireworks of cherry red and bursts of apricot orange rain down in fizzing drops as the crowd cheers. He’s right: this is a party just for them. Nothing feels like it’s for me. Nothing except the unanticipated attraction to the wicked man who slowly slides his fingers between mine.

  “You truly think so highly of yourself. You’re so egotistical. Never once have I asked you to save me. Or help me, for that matter. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. In fact, if anything, I’m saving you. So you can thank me anytime.”

  Bear’s mouth tilts in a small smile before flattening into an amused lazy smirk. “You want me to thank you?”

  “Without me, these people wouldn’t keep you on this throne. They’d abandon this kingdom, and you know it.” I give a few onlookers my best fake smile and simply wave.

  That cocky smirk fades. With one hand, he adjusts his large crown and my palms become sweaty admiring how handsome he looks. Almost painfully so. He looks a real king instead of the bickering companion who dragged me here. He looks regal and bold and less like a genuine fae, more like a god.

  More glowing fireworks fall from the sky. It’s magical and dazzling all at once. Like many other things I’ve come to know in my life, most magic and most dazzling things fade into dim embers. Every day of my future isn’t going to be this beautiful. Part of me feels guilty for not wanting to enjoy it.

  “I don’t want to fight with you.” He lifts my hand, pressing a small, slow kiss against my knuckles.

  “That’s surprising. I thought you got off on making people squirm from all your cruel comments.”

  “I get off on making some people squirm.” He gives me a dark seductive look, his eyes dipping down to my lips.

  Two weeks from now, we will be wed. I’ll be given away to King Iri for the price of cheap livestock, and I’ll pray that his people will be happy and this curse will no longer kill them off day by day.

  I brush off the hopeless pitter-patter my heart does when he looks at me that way, not willing to give him the satisfaction of what he wants. So instead, I pluck at the lapel of his jacket.

  “I don’t quite think black is your color. It makes you look even more soulless than you truly are,” I say, even though I know that black makes him look dangerous, sleek, and like an expensive gift I wish to unpackage.

  “If you think I look so awful in it, why do you stare at me every time I wear black?” His fingers find a loose blue curl, and his hand twirls it slowly.

  “Just because I think you’re a terrible creature doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes. You’re handsome. For an asshole.”

  His eyes narrow with that taunting smirk of his.

  “But you do find me attractive. If, in your heart of hearts, you truly despise me like you pretend, you wouldn’t think I’m handsome at all.”

  Carefully, I pull his long fingers away from my hair and toss the strands away from him and over my shoulder. I lick my lips slowly, giving him a sly look.

  “Did I ever mention how I have awful taste in men?”

  His hand squeezes mine. In that instant, his eyes grow ravenous as he takes in every detail of my face. The fireworks finally stop above us. I release his hand to join the crowd in roaring applause.

  Gowns fill the room, so stunningly fancy they almost put my tattered one to shame. There is, much to my surprise, a large mix of fae, trolls, and elves both rich, poor, and anywhere in between present for the announcement tonight.

  Two blaring trumpets announce the time they have all waited for. I swallow, trying to relieve my dry scratchy throat.

  Parents balance grinning children on their shoulders to see the small stage that Bear is now guiding me toward. Eyes shimmer with hope as they watch every step we take. The blaring trumpets sound and resound through the large room.

  Above us, clouds part around the silver moon, and even the sky begins to smile eagerly at us. My heart only pounds more recklessly inside its cage. The urge to bolt from the room makes my legs feel shaky and weak, but Bear’s firm grip at my waist keeps me standing as he guides me up to the platform.

  A mixture of unfamiliar faces and a few that I do recognize watch with whispers of broken curses on their lips. Donovan joins Count Jesting and Countess Everly. The Chaplain stands inches away on the stage in his long draping robes, giving me a tense smile as he waits for the crowd to silence.

  “On this momentous occasion, we invite our beloved King Iri to place a ring on the hand of Princess Syren. Once this symbolic gesture is complete, we will begin the countdown to an even bigger celebration.” The Chaplain pulls a box from a hidden pocket within his billowing sleeve.

  It looks miniscule in Bear’s large hands as he opens it toward the crowd. I smile weakly when he turns toward me.

  “Syren Stormson. You are the promise of health and new beginnings for my kingdom. With this ring, I deem you mother and future queen of the Northern Kingdom. May blessings fall down upon you.”

  “May blessing fall down upon you,” the crowd repeats in unison.

  Bear picks up the tiny ring and holds it so the moonlight glints off of it. It’s nothing like what the merchants sold. The ring is one large diamond. As it turns, a silver hazy fog captured within it swirls in a dark cloud. He moves it slightly, and the fog disappears and reappears as he tilts it back.

  He holds his warm hand out, waiting for me to extend my own palm. I glance to the crowd. Miranda gives me a sad smile and nods encouragingly, willing me to do as I’m expected. All I hear is the storming of my heart in my ears.

  This is what they’ve all been waiting for. This is what Bear has worked toward for so long: A solution for his people and the fulfillment of a prophecy from Goddess Celeste herself.

  Is it what I want?

  With trembling fingers, I place my hand in his. The ring is hot from his touch as he slides it onto my ring finger. It fits perfectly.

  The entire room explodes into an uproar of praise. It’s the sound of happiness and relief. I too feel happiness and relief. My heart is warm and I can’t help but want to lean into Bear and wrap myself up in our contentment.

  Only when the cheers die down do I notice the unnatural kink in Donovan’s stance. His back hunches in a sinister way. The way his lips twitch into a carving smile demands my attention. And then blood slips from his lips.

  Countess Everly stumbles into her husband’s arm to put space between her and Donovan’s bloody smile. Another nearby woman screams a slicing shriek that cuts right through me.

  Silver blood drips down Donovan’s eyes, his lips opening in a devilish smile, blood coating his teeth.

  “Your curse isn’t broken yet,” he says, his vicious voice not entirely his own.

  The smell of flowers and sickly sweet magic fills the ballroom. Donovan coughs, his body going slack. Blood sprays across the crowd in front of him and the mass of partygoers becomes frantic. At once, hundreds of people rush toward the exits.

  Gowns are ripped in the frenzy, and friends step on top of friends as everyone tries to scurry from the room. Donovan looks up at me with untamed terror shining in his bloody eyes. His posture straightens, the smile falls with a look of confusion passing over him.

  “What’s happen—?” he asks with a terrified breath, just before a long, jeweled blade pierces swiftly through his throat. Blood gurgles from his lips, his eyes begging as his head falls to the ground with a sickening thud. His body hit seconds later, and vomit stings my throat as I stare at his headless corpse.

  He was used. Someone used him.

  He truly did find enemies for the kingdom in all those friends he made.

  But with who?

  This isn’t the curse. This isn’t illness. Donovan was very right, and now he i
s very dead. Someone is using black magic, and this time, it was to deliver an unsettling message.

  The Chaplain rushes to my side as Bear pulls his sword from Donovan’s neck and wipes the blood off on his Master of Weapon’s black uniform.

  Miranda, along with a number of guards, stand around the king. Many of them have their blades drawn. Miranda jostles Donovan’s boot with a kick of his foot.

  “This was a message,” Miranda murmurs.

  “Bear, you didn’t have to kill him.” I finally gasp. “He was enchanted. You could have helped him.”

  More terrifying than I’ve ever seen, Bear’s expression falls blank, empty.

  “I’m not risking your life for his. He is merely a messenger.” He sheaths his sword, spitting the words out like poison. “And killing the messenger sends a message.”

  Fiery black wings burn his coat and shirt to ash as they sprout out of his broad shoulders and light up the room with a hellfire glow. His voice booms like an unnerving siren over the dwindling distressed crowd. “Even if I have to travel to the Goddess, I’ll find who is doing this, and I will give them the ending they deserve.”

  I don’t speak. I don’t move. Bear’s threat feels just as real as every awful thing I’ve ever heard of him.

  Silver blood pools across the polished ballroom floor. It crawls, flowing in an enchanted stream. It spells out one word.

  Cursed.

  Epilogue

  A Cursed Couple

  Syren

  Tables lie on their sides, clothes dangle off of them, stained with spilled crimson wine. Chairs are crumbled in piles of arms, legs, and broken, jagged wood. Glass is crushed to small sharp pieces underfoot. Even the stars above are dimmed.

  No one else but Bear remains in the room. I almost didn’t come, but the haunting image of Donovan’s head rolling across the glossy wood flooring makes it hard to be alone with my thoughts.