by Tasha Black
As the moonlit landscape blurred past them, Cullen closed his eyes and tested the night air for the scent of tea roses.
3
Jessica
Jessica Bell stepped out of her cottage and sucked in a deep breath of dewy morning air.
Aerin, her palomino pony, nickered and trotted over to greet her.
“Hello, my friend,” Jessica said fondly, stroking the pony’s creamy white mane.
She luxuriated in the smell from the fresh flowers all around, and the warmth from the sun kissing her cheeks and the velvet fur under her hand - all the pleasures of daily life.
But something was different today.
She shook her head to rid herself of the strange thought.
Every day was the same here - a perfect, sheltered life full of delicious meals and bright colors and every comfort Jessica could desire.
The silent queen had taken Jessica from that awful ballroom with the snickering dancers and deposited her here in the country, where she could enjoy a simple life of nature and study.
The queen had given her the pony, the house, and the time and freedom to read and relax as much as she liked.
Jessica knew she was being treated like a spoiled pet, but it was hard to mind when her life was so enjoyable.
Except that something was missing.
She just couldn’t remember what.
Usually she had this feeling only in dreams. That was the only unpleasant part of her existence here. Nearly every night she had dreams where she searched frantically for something important, but never found it.
“Never mind,” she said to herself. “Time for breakfast.”
She and the pony took a leisurely stroll around the cottage to the grove in back, where a table waited under the weeping willow.
Each morning, a meal of fruit and tea appeared here.
She was relieved to see that today was no exception. The table had been covered with a lace cloth. A platter of sliced fruit glistened beside a cup and a steaming teapot.
“See, Aerin,” she said. “It was nonsense.”
The pony whiskered at the mention of her name and Jessica laughed.
She sat and took a bite of the fruit.
Normally, the flavor hit her like a waterfall, filling her senses with sweet, tart goodness.
Today it tasted more like the the fruit she remembered from her days in the other world - sweet and wholesome, but not a revelation.
She poured tea into the cup and watched the steam rise in a delicate mist.
She added fresh milk and reached for the sugar.
But when she turned back to her cup she could see the milk curdling on its surface.
The rancid chunks roiled in malevolent patterns, and she swore she saw battles fought and storm clouds gathering in the swirls.
She stood abruptly.
Aerin snorted and spooked a little.
“Oh, I’m sorry, girl,” Jessica crooned, feeling guilty. “It’s just a strange day.”
The pony minced back to her through the dewy grass.
“Shall we go pick flowers?” Jessica asked her.
The pony flicked her ears as if she understood.
And since their days were always the same, she probably did. Though she was used to watching her mistress eat breakfast with gusto first.
Aerin held angelically still as Jessica stepped onto a picturesque stump to mount her.
The pony trotted into the meadow and Jessica began to feel better as the air lifted her hair and the rhythm of the pony’s steps lulled her into her usual frame of mind.
A gorgeous field of wild flowers grew just a short ride from her home. Jessica picked a bunch each day to bring back to the cottage with her, since the brass vase in the library was always empty each morning, no matter how many times she filled it with blooms. The scent of the wildflowers was so lovely in that peaceful space. The walls were lined with books of fairy lore and history, Jessica’s favorite subject. It was impossible to be anything but happy there.
Generally, she spent most of her late morning studying and then began the routine again in the afternoon - a light meal, a ride and a study session in the library with the afternoon light teasing the pages until they blushed pink in the dying light.
Aerin carried her on cheerfully as she thought about the peacefulness of it all.
They arrived at the wild flower meadow just as the morning sunlight went warm and yellow.
Jessica dismounted and walked through the stems, admiring the brilliant blossoms. She selected a flower here and there as she walked, enjoying her stroll and feeling no need to hurry.
Aerin busied herself grazing on the lush grass and sweet clover.
A clump of buttercups, banana-yellow and perfect caught Jessica’s eye. She bent to pick them, but felt a sharp, sweet pain on her hand.
She gasped and pulled her hand back.
“A bee sting,” she realized out loud, gazing down at the small red dot between her thumb and forefinger.
That had certainly never happened before.
She put her hand to her mouth and looked around. Things looked the same as always.
Except for the sky.
Dark storm clouds had gathered over the hills that bordered the meadow, and they were moving in her direction. A grey shadowed darkened the land beneath them as they traveled.
“Aerin,” she called out.
But the little mare was spooked. She cantered away, leaving Jessica alone to face the storm.
4
Jessica
Jessica watched her pony flee.
She could see her cottage, but there was no way she would reach it on foot before the storm was on her.
As the clouds rolled in, she noticed something else headed her way - a figure on horseback, his dark hair whipping behind him with the speed of his approach. He seemed to be outpacing the storm itself.
Her heart stretched taut at the sight, as if it were reaching across the meadow for him.
She knew she should seek cover form the storm, but she found herself spellbound as the earth shivered with each hoofbeat of his massive steed. She could only stand there, stone-still, waiting for him as if she had grown roots.
The familiar stranger drew closer and closer, his snow white horse thundering relentlessly toward her.
“Jessica,” he called out as he reached her, his voice rough and raw.
How does he know my name?
The horse stopped a barely a stride from her, and the man gazed feverishly down at her for a moment before leaping off and landing right in front of her.
She lifted her chin to meet his gaze.
He was huge, wildly masculine, yet something about his tragic expression told her she had nothing to fear from him.
“Jessica,” he said again, reaching for her hand.
When he touched her skin, a surge of emotion overcame her, like something bubbling up from somewhere deep inside.
She closed her eyes and a long-forgotten memory surfaced.
She sits on a picnic blanket, her beloved journal in her hands, taking notes and trying not to be distracted by the giddy proximity of the god-like man who reclines beside her under the willow tree.
She is in love with him already.
But he is a wealthy man from the city, only visiting her small town for a short time.
Talking with her amuses him, but he will not return her love.
She knows this, and she doesn’t mind. Loving him is enough for her, even if she has to keep it a secret.
“What are you writing about?”
His deep voice is slow and lazy, teasing her senses.
“Just notes for my book,” she replies, feeling happiness rise in her like soda bubbles.
“Jessica,” he says her name like a prayer as he sits up.
Now his size is more apparent. He dwarfs her, though she is not a small woman.
“Give me your hand,” he murmurs in that deep, rough voice.
She acquiesces without a tho
ught, lifting her hand and placing it against his, palm to palm.
“One day you will be my queen,” he tells her.
It is a strange choice of words, but something inside her unlocks and she is overcome with wonder.
Before her eyes, delicate inky black vines grow around her ring finger and his, binding them together like magic.
“Jessica,” he says again, bending to press his lips to hers for the first time.
His kiss fills her senses and she forgets the magic she has just seen. The pleasure of his mouth on hers is the only thing left in her world.
He pulls back.
“I love you,” he tells her.
Universes seem to form and disintegrate in his eyes.
She is drowning in love, so happy that she can’t even speak to tell him she feels the same.
Jessica opened her eyes.
Vines were growing over their fingers again now, the magic as wondrous now as it was the first time.
“Our rings,” she breathed.
“I thought I’d lost you forever when mine disappeared,” he murmured. “But it was only a temporary separation.”
“We’re together again,” she whispered.
“Why did you leave me?” he asked.
She reached back to the memory, but nothing followed it.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was in a ballroom and I hated it. The queen came and took me away, and I’ve been living in that little cottage.”
She pointed at her cottage just downhill from the meadow.
The storm wind whipped through his hair as he gazed down at her pretty little home, unimpressed.
“I didn’t have any memories before that,” she told him. “Until now.”
He clenched his jaw and she could sense his fury.
“So she trapped you here in the countryside,” he growled, “and took your memories away?”
“No,” she said. “She was so kind. I was unhappy in the ballroom, but now I have everything I could ever want.”
“Can you leave?” he asked.
“I-I’ve never tried,” she admitted. “I’ve never wanted to.”
“How long have you been here?” he asked.
The words echoed strangely in her head.
How long had she been here?
She glanced back over the meadow. Her unchanging days here melted together, making it impossible to judge the passage of time.
“The seasons haven’t changed,” she thought out loud. “So it can’t have been more than a few weeks. But it feels like maybe it’s been longer than that.”
He closed his eyes, looking troubled.
“How long has it been?” she asked, trying to understand what was upsetting him.
He looked the same as he had in her memory. His hair was dark and his face unlined. It couldn’t have been that long.
Thunder rumbled close by, rumbling to her bones.
“Let’s get out of here,” he told her. “We can talk while we ride.”
She allowed him to help her up onto the pale stallion.
The big horse pranced and snorted, but calmed when he leapt on after her.
She closed her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her, soaking in his heat and the shivers of awareness his touch awoke.
He urged the horse on and the wildflowers began to blur past them.
They headed for the hills, leaving the little cottage far behind as a cold rain began to pound down. Jessica realized that she hadn’t seen rain since she had arrived in the valley.
The cold drops felt like kisses on her cheeks, contrasting deliciously with the warm arms of the man who held her tight to his hard body as they thundered away from the only life she fully remembered.
***
Thanks for reading this sample of King of Pain!
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About the Author
Tasha Black lives in a big old Victorian in a tiny college town. She loves reading anything she can get her hands on, writing sci fi & paranormal romance, and sipping pumpkin spice lattes.
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