The Queen of All That Lives (The Fallen World Book 3)

by Laura Thalassa

  “I don’t want to play any of your games.”

  He shifts against me, and I feel it all the way down to my core. The bastard knows what he’s doing.

  “Too bad,” he says.

  I exhale. “I really pissed you off today, didn’t I?” I can’t help the satisfaction unfurls at that thought.

  “You caught me off guard,” he corrects. “And I’m glad for it. My wife should be my equal. But now, you’ll pay for it.”

  “The king and his games,” I murmur.

  “Do you love me?”

  He wastes no time diving right in.

  I lift my chin. “Pass.”

  He grins, his white, white teeth striking in the dim light. “Kiss me.”

  I stare at him for a beat, and then, gently, I pull his head down and brush my lips against his. It’s over before it’s even begun. Not that I’m trying to get out of anything. I know how this ends.

  “When was the first time you felt something other than hate for me?” he asks.

  It’s my turn to play with his hair. I rub a stray lock between my fingers. Montes unconsciously leans into the touch.

  “That evening you brought me to the pool house,” I say.

  “I remember that,” he says, gazing down at me fondly.

  His memory has aged a hundred years. Will that ever stop shocking me?

  “You skipped my turn,” I say.

  “Tonight you don’t get to ask questions,” he says.

  I frown, digging my hand deeper into his hair. “Is it wrong for me to want to know who you’ve become?” I ask.

  I’m getting better at manipulating words to my will. It’s what my father was so good at. What Montes is so good at. And it was almost inevitable that I would pick up this habit.

  He’s quiet. But then, “Forever is a long time to spend by yourself.”

  He’s terrible and terrifying and monstrous and so ill deserving of any goodness, and yet—

  And yet my broken heart bleeds for him. I have the strangest urge to run my hand down his back and comfort him as neither of us has been comforted in a long, long time.

  “That’s the last question you get to ask,” he says quietly.

  I don’t fight him. His past sounds like a dark place, one he doesn’t want to dwell on. I know all about terrible memories; I won’t force him to divulge his.

  “Do you love me?” he asks, drawing me back to the present.

  My brows knit. “I already answered this question.”

  “And I am asking it again.”

  I really shouldn’t feel bad for him. He’s up to his usual tricks.

  “Pass,” I say.

  Another triumphant smile. “Touch me.”

  I place my hand at the juncture between his jaw and his neck. My thumbs stroke the rough skin of his cheek.

  “Lower,” he says gruffly.

  My touch moves down the column of his throat until it rests over his heart. My heart. The one he stole all those years ago and now holds captive. I can hear it beating. Long after I die, it will continue to beat in his chest.

  His nostrils flare as some emotion overtakes him. “Lower.”

  I feel my cheeks heat. I know what he wants. I run my hand down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and I wrap my hand around him.

  This is so lewd.

  “Happy?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

  “I will be,” he says.

  I release him. “Next question.”

  I can tell I’m amusing him. It’s no one feature of his, but all of them—the wry twist of his lips, the shine of his eyes, the way his hands dig themselves deeper into my flesh.

  “What is your favorite thing about me?”

  I search his face. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?” I don’t bother to add any sting to my words. I’m not trying to wound him. But I’ve taken it upon myself to dole out all the hard truths that Montes needs to hear.

  “You follow through on most of your threats,” I throw out.

  He shakes his head, his eyes glimmering. “I know for a fact you like certain parts of my anatomy better than my follow through. But I’ll let that one slide.”

  How magnanimous of him.

  “Do you love me?” he asks.

  I give him a hard look. “You’re not going to wear me down on this one, Montes. Pass.”

  His hair tickles mine as his lips brush against the skin of my cheek. “Touch yourself.”

  “Montes.” It’s one thing to be intimate with the king. Quite another to do this in front of him.

  “We can stop,” he says. “Tomorrow morning when we sit in on the meeting with my officers, you can inform them that you are no longer willing to follow through with your role in our war efforts. I will not stop you. I want my queen safe above all else.”

  He’s goading me, but at this point I can’t tell if he wants me to dissolve all my plans or to continue doing things for him that make me distinctly uncomfortable.

  Knowing how twisted he is, I’d say he be happy with either outcome.

  I glare at him and reach between us, placing my hand between my thighs.

  He tears his gaze from me and his eyes dip down. I hear his breath hitch.

  A moment later he extricates one of his hands from my hair and uses it to cover mine. Wrapping his fingers around mine, he begins to move my hand up and down, up and down.

  Now it’s my breath that’s picking up; I’m inhaling and exhaling in stuttering gasps.

  Montes watches the way he works me. The whole thing is embarrassing and exhilarating all at once. If only I could have one uncomplicated emotion towards this man. Everything he does, everything we do, is mired in complexities.

  His gaze returns to mine. “Are you not having fun?”

  “Fun,” I say, my voice breathy, “is not a word I would use to describe your games.”

  He leans in close, dipping both his fingers and mine into my core. “Then you’re not doing it right.”

  Montes adjusts himself, so that he’s right at my entrance. “The game’s over—for now.”

  He takes my lips then. The kiss is rough, almost abrasive. As he does so, he thrusts into me. I’m gasping into his mouth, arching into him.

  Gone is the girl who hated the king. Gone is the man who took everything from her. When we are like this, we’re just two lost souls coming together.

  He moves against me and I stare up at him. I bring a hand up and caress his cheek, swallowing as I do so.

  “We lost a child.”

  I don’t know why I say it. Maybe I’m feeling oddly vulnerable with him. Despite everything he’s done to me, this man has buried himself in the deepest recesses of my heart. And we’ve been through things together, things that pulled us close when they should’ve torn us apart.

  Whatever mood rode us a minute ago, it’s been replaced with something far heavier.

  “We will make another,” he says.

  It’s such an enchanting thought. To create rather than destroy. That even we are capable of it.

  I pull him closer. He moves gently against me, his strokes slow and tender.

  There is no question how he feels about me. I’m the one holding back, refusing to give in fully. And I don’t want to. God, I don’t.

  After we finish, the king tucks me against him, our skin is damp with sweat. He places a soft kiss behind my ear. “Tonight, you win my queen.”

  I haven’t won anything. I can see that even if I hold out, there is no way this ends well for me.

  Montes shifts, clasping me in close. “Now,” he says, “sleep.”

  And I do.

  Chapter 24

  Serenity

  “Your itinerary is complete.” The off
icers I met with yesterday are now discussing the peace talks I will be having with the heads of several of the king’s territories.

  None of them have broached the subject of last night’s call with Styx. I doubt they will either.

  Montes sits next to me in the conference room, his presence dominating the space.

  His leg and arm brush against mine as he settles in, and I can’t help but think it’s deliberate. That everything about him is deliberate. And these two casual touches serve to remind me that this monstrous man can make my heart flutter even when his attention is focused elsewhere.

  The king doesn’t need to be here, but of course he wants to be. If he can micromanage every step of this process, he will.

  I grab the document set out in front of me in an effort to refocus my energy and attention.

  “The queen’s tour of the East will begin next week,” one of the officers says.

  I lean back in my chair, flipping through the itinerary. We’re starting my campaign for peace in the East. I have to win my own people over before I can consider swaying the people of the West.

  Next to me, Montes reads through his copy, pinching his lower lip. One of his legs begins to jiggle. I take the subtle hints of his aggravation as a good sign.

  “How did you pick these places?” I ask.

  “Your Majesty, we followed your requests—these are the biggest cities or the ones that have the least loyalty to the East.”

  Most of the city names I recognize, but some are new. When I get the chance, I will discreetly find a map and plot these places out.

  The king closes his copy and tosses it onto the table. “No.”

  We all look to him.

  “Half of your scheduled visits are in wild country. We’ve long since established that we can’t secure many of these locations.”

  “Yes,” the female officers says slowly, “the lack of royal presence in those regions is partially responsible for their fractured loyalty.”

  “These are exactly the places I want to be,” I say.

  The king stands and shrugs off his jacket. “No,” he repeats.

  “Yes,” I say just as forcefully.

  The vein in his temple pounds. “Goddamnit, Serenity, don’t test me.”

  I stand, my chair screeching as it slides back. “Or what?”

  “Or I will lock you in a fucking room where no one can hurt you.”

  I take a step towards him. “Are you threatening to put me back in the Sleeper?” I ask, my voice low.

  He flinches. So the bastard has some remorse after all.

  “I’m not going back in there, Montes. Not ever.”

  “You’ve said that before, and then you went back into the Sleeper.” He says it like I chose to return to the coffin. Like I wasn’t forced into it by his own hand.

  I step in close. “How dare you. Consider yourself lucky I’m unarmed.”

  Before the discussion can devolve any further, the door to the conference room opens, and Marco strides in.

  Marco the clone. My skin still prickles at the thought.

  It takes him only a handful of seconds to register that he came in at a bad time.

  He puts his hands up. “By all means, don’t stop on my account.”

  I turn back to the king. “So now that I know about Marco, he’s allowed to join us?”

  “He’s my right-hand.” To Marco, the king says, “Have you seen the itinerary?”

  “I have,” Marco says, taking a seat near us and kicking his heels up on the table.

  That little gesture makes me like him just a smidgen more.

  Montes folds his arms across his chest, widening his stance. “And?”

  Marco drums his fingers against the armrests. “And I think it’s a good idea.”

  I try not to smile. I fail.

  The king throws me a lethal glare.

  “It’s not safe,” he says, returning his attention to Marco.

  “You act like you’re not married to the most dangerous one of us,” Marco says. He juts his chin towards me. “She woke up in a car full of armed men. When she was retrieved, they were all dead.”

  I appreciate Marco sticking up for me. He has no reason to. I haven’t been kind to him.

  The king frowns at his friend.

  “Montes,” I say, “let me do this.”

  He fully turns his body towards me, and his nostrils flare as he tries to tamp down his emotions. When I look into his eyes, all I see is agony. I’m someone he loves, someone he respects, someone he cannot bear to lose under any circumstances.

  I take it all in, and then I do something uncharacteristic.

  I place a hand against the side of his face, in full view of Marco and the officers.

  “We need to end this war,” I say. “I have a good chance of doing just that, but only if you let me try. I’m not going to hold our deal over your head, and I’m not going to force your hand.”—Yet.—“I’m asking as your wife and your queen to allow this to happen.”

  He looks moved, but I’m not sure.

  “It can be how it was before,” I say quietly. “We rule well together. Let me do this. Nothing bad will happen.”

  Montes grimaces then closes his eyes. He places his hand over mine, trapping it against his cheek.

  “I always knew you’d make a good queen,” he murmurs.

  He opens his eyes. “Fine. I’ll agree to it, provided there’s extra security.”

  I nod, my expression passive. But there’s nothing passive about how I feel. The king doesn’t readily make concessions, and I don’t usually get my way without threatening someone.

  The two of us are making progress.

  “Serenity?” he says quietly. “You still need to work on your lies. You and I both know that with diplomacy, something bad always happens.”

  Chapter 25

  Serenity

  After the meeting, the king takes me to the palace gardens.

  Montes and his gardens.

  The plants that grow here are far different than the ones in Geneva and his other palace in the United Kingdom. They’re greener, brighter, more exotic.

  “Do you still have your palace in England?” I ask.

  Montes glances over me. “I do. Would you like to go back at some point?”

  What an absurd question. That place was just another example of the king’s decadence, another example that I was just a brightly colored bird in a gilded cage.

  My retort is on the tip of my tongue. Only … I find I can’t say the words. That terrible home of the king’s might be one of the few things about this world that I remember. People need familiarity. I need to feel like I’m not swept out at sea.

  “Maybe,” I say.

  I look over at Montes as he squints off at the sea.

  His handsome face is made all the more so by how well I know it. His palaces are not the only thing I am familiar with.

  I could reach out and touch his face. I want to. I want to run my finger down the delicate folds of skin that pinch when he squints. For the longest time I’ve held back my affection. I thought it important to punish the king for being the king and me for wanting him.

  I reach out and ever so softly run two fingers along the skin near one of his eyes, smoothing out the crinkled skin.

  He turns into my touch. I can tell without speaking that he’s surprised and pleased. Both of us stop walking.

  My fingers move to his mouth. I trace the edges of his lips. “What happened to all your wickedness?” Even that has changed. Oddly enough, I miss it.

  He gives me a what-can-you-do-about-it look. “I got old.”

  “You don’t look old,” I say.

  We haven’t discussed it, but the king must st
ill be taking his pills. He looks identical to how I’ve always remembered him.

  And he hasn’t tried to make me take any; it’s just further proof that he’s not nearly so wicked as he used to be.

  Montes touches my temple. “I got old here.” His fingers move to the skin over my heart. “And here.”

  I understand that. Age isn’t just a number; it’s also how you feel.

  Montes takes my hand and tucks it into the crook of his arm. When I try to tug it away, he holds fast to it.

  The age-old battle of chivalry versus my stubbornness.

  He wins this round.

  We resume walking.

  “Marco likes you,” he says, absently running his thumb over my knuckles.

  I don’t bother hiding a very real shiver. “That’s regrettable.”

  “It is.”

  There’s something about the way Montes says this that has me glancing over. I can’t put my finger on it—

  “What do you think of the future?” he asks, changing the course of my thoughts.

  “It’s disorienting,” I say, “though not as different as I imagined it would be. The world does not appear to have made any progress.”

  “War does that,” Montes says. “The only thing that ever gets more impressive are the new ways we find to kill each other.”

  That’s more than a little disheartening to hear.

  “In what ways has the weaponry gotten worse?” I ask.

  “Mmm,” he muses, staring out at the horizon, “I’ll let you figure that one out on your own. It’s probably in my best interest not to have you knowing about all the new and ingenious ways you can kill me.”

  I smile at that.

  I’m so fucked-up. We are so fucked-up.

  “So you still think I might kill you?” I ask.

  The king stops again.

  This moment is too much. The warm, bright sun, the sweet smelling flowers, the sound of the surf crashing. The way the king’s staring at me. I am getting gluttonous off of it.