“Or I could arrange it.” I shrugged.
Feeling his stare boring into the side of my head, I turned and looked at him.
“What?”
“You are a very unorthodox queen,” he stated, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I don’t agree with your preconceived notions of what a queen should or should not be. In what way am I unorthodox? Is it because I’m not soft and gentle? Perhaps my voice and opinions are too outspoken?”
He grinned and brought his hand to my face, gently stroking my cheek with his thumb.
“I said you were unorthodox, not that I had an issue with it. You’re perfection to me, in any stance—even when you’re pissing me off.”
His eyes reflected an honesty that had my heart migrating to my throat and a comforting warmth spreading through my veins.
It was too intense. Too much. Not at all how a game of politics worked.
“Where is the woman who had your son?”
There wasn’t so much as a bat of an eyelid.
“There are no more female depires, and even if there were, she’d still be dead.”
“Is that an omission?” I nearly whispered.
He brought his other hand up and cupped the opposite cheek, now cradling my face in his large hands.
“It can be.”
“Reyes…” I exhaled a shallow breath, entirely speechless for once.
“She and every other woman I’ve been with are irrelevant. You can reject and deny our union all you want; it changes nothing on my end. You are my queen, and I will worship you as such. I’d never disrespect you that way.”
He prohibited me from saying another word, sealing his mouth over mine in a kiss that nearly stole my soul. When he drew back, he still kept me close.
We remained in solitude, and it was almost nice. If he hadn’t mentioned that he may or may not have killed the mother of his child—if only I weren’t so disturbed that him doing so pleased me—I think it could have been perfect.
~14~
We walked back down the grand staircase side by side, with my arm linked through his. I was still in my gown from our walk but had redone my hair and washed my face.
There was a large crowd that parted as we passed, bowing respectfully without any hesitation. Seeing this large number of supes inside the citadel was the first sign something was about to go down.
“Are you going to tell me where we are going now?” I whispered up at Reyes.
“No, because that would ruin the surprise. Be patient; we’re almost there.”
I pursed my lips but remained silent, following his lead. As we swept through the halls on our way to wherever it was we were going, everyone continued to kneel or bowed their heads. For all his cruel ways, Reyes' number of supporters was astonishing.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye; he looked over and caught me staring, responding with a shit-eating grin that had me narrowing my eyes and looking straight ahead again. Before I knew it, we were at a set of doors with torches lit outside of them.
As we entered the room beyond, I saw there wasn’t a ceiling, just a round, dome-like opening. The center of the room held a raised stone stage in the shape of a large rectangle. Right behind it was a raised dais with tall chairs. Long stone benches went around the room in a circle, all currently filled with spectators—supes from the citadel halls.
“What is this?” I asked Reyes, holding tightly to his hand as we began to climb the steep stairs. At the top, Scarlett and Jacinda were already seated. The grave expressions on their faces had me turning to Reyes and repeating my question.
Only once we were settled in our chairs did he respond, “My second favorite day of the week.”
“What does that mean?”
The booming of a microphone dragged my attention to the center structure in the center of the room and had everyone falling silent.
A tall lycan in servitor uniform walked to the center of the rectangle, a wheelbarrow wheeled out behind him.
The lycan that was ordered to have his teeth pulled was dragged out next, already begging to be spared.
My stomach twisted as I realized what this was.
I looked at Reyes and shook my head, unable to believe he would bring me to this—his reckonings. In a room full of Purgatory supes, I knew better than to test him, but that didn’t mean I was okay with this.
“Kneel,” the announcer’s voice boomed over a microphone.
When the first tooth was pulled from the man's mouth with a pair of over-sized pliers, I thought I would be sick. The echoing of the lycans’ tortured screams resounded in the executioner's mic.
I cast my gaze downward, studying the skirt of my gown intently. Each tiny plink on the stone floor was a sharp reminder of exactly what region I was in. I dared look up when it was over, seeing the man was a sobbing, slobbering mess. Blood and saliva coated his face as he was carried off the stage by his arms.
A boy no older than eight ran forward and swept the teeth away.
At least, I thought he was eight; with vampires, one could never know for sure.
The next supe was the vampire woman who had cheated on her husband.
My heart broke for them as that same woman was forced to watch her lover die. Reyes studied me calculatingly through the whole thing.
Jacinda attempted to flee the room, but Hades snatched her up and pulled her to his lap, playing off her frantic behavior.
Two vampires held the other down, and the executioner swung an ax, severing the head cleanly. The crowd was silent before cheering wildly; my pulse stuttered as the man dropped to the ground, choking on his blood.
I forced myself to sit and watch death after senseless death, playing my role with a resolve so iron-clad I deserved an award.
When two demis were dragged forward, I looked to Reyes questioningly. They most certainly hadn’t been at the High Council.
“It's time for the finale,” Reyes explained with a cold smile.
Every man in the room that wasn’t tied to another—and even some that were—had their eyes trained on the stage. I studied the women, noting how miserable they appeared.
“Are they in…? What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I hissed.
“As a rare show of charity, our king has offered up two young, healthy demis for the taking!” the lycan’s voice boomed.
“Reyes... no,” I breathed out in horror at what he was about to do.
“I always feel it necessary to give back to the supes that support me.” He ignored me, lazily explaining his logic.
“You cannot do this to them,” I seethed loud enough to draw a few curious stares.
“Are you ready?” the lycan called out, pulling my attention back to the stage.
I tried once more to get Reyes’ attention.
A bell rang, and all hell broke loose as the crowd went wild. Bodies began dropping; throats were torn open, bones were broken, and lives viciously snuffed out, all to get to one of the terrified women in the center of the bloody stage.
I looked away. The sounds piercing the dark sky were everything from laughter to moans of agony. Reyes watched all of it with a pleased look upon his face, as did his brothers.
The women were finally claimed and carried off to be fucked for days on end by their new partners.
This had to be where the rumors Toby had heard came from. The ones where demis were forced to be sex slaves beneath the roofs of honorless brutes.
If Reyes did this every week, that was nearly eight demis a month.
The stage now coated in blood, limbs, and glassy-eyed bodies began being cleaned as everyone filed out of the room.
We’d taken one step forward—a baby step, but a step nonetheless—just to revert to square one.
I placed myself inside the shower, turned the water to warm, and settled on the stone ottoman inside.
I placed my head in my hands and closed my eyes, fighting the raging storm inside me. “Remember your duty,�
� I repeated to myself.
Words were always so much easier to say than to act on. It would have been all too easy to fuck my duty and fall apart, give into despair…to let Reyes do as he wished and be the obedient queen who stood by him.
But that wasn’t me.
It had never been.
I couldn’t let this go, even with things looking worse and worse for me. There was this inexplicable thing inside me demanding I regain control over what was rightfully mine.
Shoving fingers through wet hair, I rose from the ottoman and grabbed my body wash, lathering it onto my cloth.
I scrubbed my skin, wishing I could clean all I’d just witnessed from my brain.
What I wished even more was that the mark coiling down one side of my body like a venomous snake wasn’t so dark in color.
With every touch, every kiss, every lingering look, I’d tossed another stone away from the pile of rocks I’d built up around my heart. I’d tossed them away for a creature that would have been devastatingly beautiful as a prince but was painfully cruel as a king.
I knew I should never have gotten rid of them in the first place. How many pep talks had I given myself since being here?
This was a region overpopulated with the corrupt and savage. They had no rules or structure other than to not challenge their king and to be loyal to his reign. I didn’t fit the mold.
With still no idea what this diabolical man was planning, I was beginning to think it would be better all-around if Purgatory were not under Reyes' thumb.
The only way to ensure that was to go against him entirely. To up the ante. Overthrow the king and crown myself in his place.
~15~
I didn’t expect to see him when I stepped into the room.
He’d gone to the banquet hall directly after the reckonings, leaving Dylan to escort me. He was there, though, sitting in his chair by the fireplace.
“What if I didn’t come back?” I asked him, referring to the injection that had killed so many of my kind.
The pause was so long, I thought he might not know what I was talking about. I’d just opened my mouth to tell him when he replied.
“Well, then you’d be dead,” he responded matter-of-factly.
“I’d be dead,” I parroted, making my way to the bed, fuming. “You have a shitty idea of what it means to worship. I’m not sure repulsing me fits that definition.”
“Repulsion.” He rolled the word off his tongue as if it were the first time he’d ever heard it.
Ignoring him, I pulled the comforter down and climbed up onto my side of the mattress. Before I could even get comfortable, he was standing on his side, staring down at me.
“I can’t change who I am, and I won’t apologize for anything I’ve done, but I swear you mean more to me than you know.”
“Are your warped feelings supposed to make me feel better about you potentially killing me?” I snapped.
“Do you know that you have smiled a total of twelve times in my presence throughout four months?” His low, rasped words plucked at me, needling my skin.
“What do you want me to smile about? My home is in ruins, my people are being raped by those sick bastards you claim as family, and killed off by your subjects. And somewhere in your insanity seized brain, you think we have more of a connection than this goddamn bond you forced upon me!”
My angry words were screamed without a filter, uncaring if I provoked the beast before me until it was too late.
His eyes glowed brighter than the flames in the fireplace. If he could burn me right then and there, I had no doubt he would have.
Movements purposely slow; he took off his clothes. I knew what was coming and closed my eyes. The chemise I’d slipped on was removed from my body, and I was easily subdued, one strong hand holding my wrists above my head as the other began to play.
Fingers rolled my nipples until they budded and ached. My clit was massaged fast, and then slow, back to fast, building pleasure but not granting release.
My pussy was played with until my hips were lifting on their own accord and juices covered the sheets. He laughed at my curses and indulged my every whimper.
When his cock finally slammed inside me, a scream of unfettered pleasure tore from my throat, cut off on a choked cough as a hand wrapped around my windpipe.
“Am I repulsive now, my queen?” Reyes seethed, rolling his hips at an angle that ensured I felt every part of him. “Whose cock is it inside your pussy? Whose name do you chant like a prayer when you come? Who is it that gets you so wet they can see their reflection in your juices?”
With every question, he fucked me harder, gripped my throat tighter. The headboard smacked into the wall.
My body craved this. Pussy locking around his cock, pleasure zipped through my veins. My demon, she was ravenous for it, pleading for our partner to give us what we needed.
My heart, it rattled in its cage knowing Reyes and I would never be anything more than a lustful, angry tragedy.
“Answer me!” he demanded, bottoming out inside me.
“You, yours,” I choked out as another climax blossomed in my core.
“That’s right. You call for me. You get fucked by me. You belong to me. I am your king!”
He continued to fuck me ruthlessly, dominating me over and over again. When he finally buried himself and found his release, pumping his hips to empty every drop, he stayed there until he was completely flaccid.
“I could have an army of women in my bed and a queen that would proudly sit alongside me on a throne. But I have you. Start coming to terms with your future. Nothing you do will change it.”
He dressed and left the room after that. I lay there alone and sore, aching much more on the inside than I ever could on the out.
Still, no tears fell.
~16~
Things only got worse.
Reyes and I, we went to war against one another with words, using our bodies as weapons. Thus far, I had most of the casualties.
He never slept beside me anymore, keeping odd hours in various rooms. However, in court, we did our best to play a king and queen who doted on one another.
Few knew the truth. Jacinda…Scarlett…the brothers….Dylan and Wesley.
In the banquet room, I picked at the soup Reyes had added to the citadel meal sheet specifically for me.
My stomach revolted with every sip. It got to the point that I knew if I raised a spoon of broth to my mouth again, it would be expelled on the table.
I was tempted to reach for the water, but I feared that would have the same effect. Refraining from rubbing a hand across my brow, I looked to Reyes down at the far end of the table.
His eyes were already locked with mine, a dash of concern replacing their usual coldness. I silently asked if I could excuse myself, and he nodded.
I excused myself as politely as possible and rose from my chair, ignoring my friends’ concerned gazes.
I didn’t stop to wait for Dylan or Wesley. I went straight to my room and took everything off, crawling into bed nude and remaining there until sleep swept in to make everything better momentarily.
The consistent pounding woke me from a deep, dreamless slumber.
I stumbled from bed disorientated, searching out my robe. When I finally opened the door, I was met with Dylan’s grim face and familiar black cloak.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He boldly slipped inside my room and all but shoved the garment into my arms.
“Are you insane? If Reyes catches you in here, he’ll kill us both,” I whispered harshly in case the cruel depire was lurking.
“He’s preoccupied, and this is our only opportunity to get you out.”
I should have jumped at those words, but Dylan and I hadn’t spoken in more than broken sentences since his night of riddles.
I knew he was meant to protect me, but he was also Reyes’ most loyal guard. So no, I wasn’t jumping for joy over his suspicious words.
“We don’t have
time for this,” he gritted out.
The cloak was snatched from my hands and he pulled it over my head as if I were a helpless child.
“The key,” he demanded next, opal eyes boring into sage.
“No.” I shook my head even though the motion made me nauseous. “The last time I blindly trusted someone to get me out of a situation, I ended up having to come here.”
“Duvessa, if that someone is Toby, he was brought into the Grid Iron two nights ago.
“And before you rush to his rescue, my—the king will kill him if you even think of trying to bargain on his behalf. We need to get you out.”
I blinked rapidly. “You keep saying that. How? Reyes will know.”
“Key,” he demanded again.
“The bottom dresser drawer, folded in the light blue bra.” I touched a hand to my forehead.
“What the hell is going on?”
Dylan reappeared right in front of me. Flats were slid onto my feet, the key wedged in my pocket, and the broken crown placed on top of my head before the hood of the cloak was lifted.
“Let’s move.”
Without warning, he grabbed my hand and all but dragged me out of the room.
“Clear?” he asked Wesley.
“Yep, all the chaos is in the throne room.”
“What chaos? Dammit, if one of you doesn’t tell me what is going on, I will scream bloody murder up and down this hall.”
They ignored me for a full flight of stairs, taking the set I rarely used. When we reached the bottom, Dylan tightened his grip on my hand and came to an abrupt halt. The look in his eyes gave me a dreadful sense of déjà vu.
Something was very wrong.
“I apologize beforehand because I’d planned to tell you this in a much calmer setting…” he paused and his throat bobbed as he struggled to choose his next words.
“What is it?” I questioned, glancing between he and Wesley. I feared his answer as badly as I wanted it.
He cleared his throat and readjusted his grip on my hand. “Duvessa Vasiel’s head was just left on the king’s throne.”
Beauty & Rage (Broken Crowns Book 1) Page 10
