The Jaded King (The Dark Kings Book 2)

by Jovee Winters

  The couple, spotting me, began to laugh and point. I could only imagine what I must look like to them. But I wasn’t the only strange-looking one in this place. Several yards ahead was a female walking at a meandering, looping pace, turning here and there, holding a small object in her hand. She stared down at it with a look of total concentration. Twice now, I’d thought for sure she would step off the pier; she’d gotten within an inch of the edge of it before quickly turning and again doing that strange shuffle.

  She looked like a wild thing. Her elfin features were hard to make out, but she had a wild halo of curls the colors of unicorn’s pelt—lavender, magenta, and ice blue. But she wasn’t dressed in the spider silk or even ivy garland of her kind, but form fitting pantaloons with a top that looked as though it’d been ravaged by a tornado. It was torn and shredded everywhere. She looked female, but could have been a really pretty male. Either way, the couple couldn’t seem to decide who to deride more—the drunken fairy thing or me. In the end, they settled on pointing longest at me.

  I hadn’t failed to notice that, in this strange land, no one else dressed as I did. Women and men wore the same bloody clothing, so that from a distance, I could not tell who was who. Only a very few women wore gowns, but they were shockingly indecent—tight and shorn off at the knees, exposing limbs dyed brown from the sun. It was obvious to me not a one wore the typical corset our females were accustomed to wearing, and some even wore no underthings at all. I’ll admit I’d been hypnotized by the roll and sway of unbound breasts beneath those diaphanous fabrics.

  Which could only lead me to one logical conclusion. This was a land of soiled women.

  When I’d stared a bit too blatantly at one whose nipples had been erect and pressing hypnotically against her green blouse, she’d unleashed a most profane set of words upon me before marching off with angry, jerky movements to a monstrous silver bird that snatched her up just seconds later.

  Rubbing the back of my pounding skull, I glowered down at the water line. I did not understand the rules of this world and wished only to go home.

  What if I was stuck in this goddess-forsaken realm forever? The thought alone made me break out in a rush of cold sweat and made my heart hammer most violently against the bars of its cage. Uncaring of the grass or dirt stains I’d surely get, I groaned as I sat my large frame down with an unceremonious plop, holding my head in my hands. I was feeling woefully bad for myself.

  A short scream startled me out of my self-pity. I looked up to see the drunken fairy thing bobbing and splashing about in the water, going under for long intervals before sliding back up to the surface, sputtering, and crying out. In a second, I noted that no one else, of the dozens crowding the pond, was moving to help the fairy.

  Without thought, I jumped to my feet, shucked off my long coat, kicked off my black boots, and ran out onto the pier. Seconds felt like minutes, but before I knew it, I was sailing through the air in a perfect swan’s dive and cleanly cutting through the water with two quick strokes.

  In seconds, I had the flailing fairy in my arms and was kicking up for air. I’d not expected the water to be so dark or deep and shivered at the thought that the ugly thing might have drowned if not for me.

  By the time we cut the surface she—and she was definitely a she, I now knew, thanks to the large and quite lovely pair of breasts flattened against my steely chest—had her lanky arms wrapped around my neck and was kicking and squealing and screeching so wildly that she shoved me right back under before I could properly take a breath.

  Angry, I shoved her rather harder than I should have toward the pier, noting even in my irritation that she had a very generous arse of lovely shape. She scrabbled for purchase, all gangly limbs and awkwardness.

  I latched on to the pier and drew myself up and out. My lungs burned as I choked on the filthy pond water still trapped in my lungs from the inadvertent inhale I’d been forced to take.

  “Fils de pute!” I snapped between hacks, sure that I’d swallowed at least ten pounds worth of le poisson merde. In other words, fish feces.

  A hand I could only assume belonged to her thwacked down hard on my back repeatedly. Black spots danced in my vision, and I growled at her to stop, but I had to admit it was actually helping.

  Ready to take the drunken fairy to task for nearly drowning and then trying to take me down with her, I rolled over and opened my mouth. And that was as far as I got.

  Her eyes were like nothing I’d ever seen before. She had a literal galaxy in one of them, like the star tunnel I’d just traveled through getting to this realm. It was brown and electric blue with pinpricks of shimmering starlight. The other eye was a dark and lovely shade of brown far richer than even Belle’s own.

  I blinked. Who the devil was this female? Was she a Kingdomer plopped into this strange world as I’d been? Did she have magic, just like the blond devil? Could she get us out of here? My pulse thundered imagining I might finally get to go home.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, staring down at me with those magical eyes of hers. Although she blinked her brown eye crazily and rubbed at it before muttering beneath her breath of “lost contacts”, whatever that was.

  I could say nothing, though, because the more I looked at the strange-eyed female, the more unusual she became.

  She was pierced through her earlobes. Not odd, even in my realm, but her piercings held wide black disks that stretched her lobes in a grotesque, yet oddly alluring manner. Beyond that, she had markings all over, a colorful bouquet of wildflowers that appeared as a watercolor slowly melting down both arms.

  This female was exceedingly alien and strange looking, but then I glanced back at her face, and all the breath left my body.

  Her face was lovelier than anything I’d ever seen in my life. Long, but delicate, with a heart-shaped jaw, pearly-pink lips, and slitted eyes like a cat’s, surrounded by black liquid, now trailing down both cheeks as though she’d been crying in watercolor, too. Her nose was perfectly shaped and tilted up just slightly at the end.

  “Gods above,” I whispered, as my body suddenly tightened and coiled, feeling like a bowstring pulled taut. Feeling scalded and burned by her, I quickly shifted back, needing her to stop touching me immediately.

  She glanced at the air where, just moments ago, her fingers had been on my back, and frowned. Her nails, which were hooked like claws and colored a deep shade of vivid black, looked slightly menacing.

  What kind of strange creature was she? A hybrid of some sort? And how the devil had she managed to find herself trapped in this land of such grotesque oddities?

  The female standing before me did not look at all like the shy wallflower Rumpel had shown me in mental pictures. And yet, this was clearly a woman of my realm. She did not belong in this world of people-eating silver beasts and dreary, mocking humans.

  Shoving wet strands of cotton-candy hair off her cheeks, she said, “I lost my freaking phone and my stupid contact.”

  She gazed mournfully into the black pool of water now reflecting the first rays of moonlight.

  “What is a phone? Or a contact for that matter?” I frowned.

  Feminine brows lifted high on her smooth forehead as she gave me a wary look. “Okay, dude. Look, not your fault, alright. I wasn’t blaming you. So don’t get your panties in a wad and try to act like you don’t speak Eng—”

  Panties? On me? She must be insane.

  “I do not now, nor have I ever worn les vetements pour la femmes.”

  Her lips twitched. “Ah, un Français. J’ais passé mon troisième année à la fac à Paris. Vous êtes d’où?” Ah, a Frenchman. I spent my third year of college in Paris. Where are you from?

  I frowned. While I understood her excellent French, I had no earthly idea what Paris was. Or college. Or what she meant by third year. I’d pretty much stopped understanding her after Frenchman.

  “Kingdom,” I said haltingly, hoping I was giving the right answer.

  Her strange eyes narrowed. “Wh
at?”

  I did not like the stony mask she suddenly wore or the way she was now tapping her right foot on the pier. What had I said? I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling as though I were failing a test.

  Perhaps she’d not heard of Kingdom? Although, how she’d not heard of it was beyond me. She was clearly of my world. Was she touched? Trying to make it as simple as possible for her, I said, “The hamlet by the shores of Never Tears.”

  At her blank look, I tried to make it even simpler.

  “A half-day’s journey from the Isle of Fae.”

  “Oh.” She blinked and gave me a grim smile. “I get it. You’re pissed, and you thought it would be fun to play with the dumb American. Are you just naturally an asshole, or do you have to work at it?”

  Mind gone blank from the sudden vitriol she exhibited, I could only stare at the flamboyant pigêon as she tossed her hands up in the air, gave me a short growl of irritation, and whirled on her heel.

  Only once I saw the flex and sway of her lovely derriere did I finally snap out of my stupor.

  “Hey!” I yelled, shoving to my feet and giving chase.

  She never stopped walking as she turned and flipped her middle finger up at me. I did not know what this gesture meant, but I could only assume it was supposed to be emasculating since the couple seated on that bench—who’d never bothered to move their asses when she’d been drowning—began to chuckle.

  Grumpy, wet, hungry, and irritable as hell, I may have been a little more brusque than necessary when I latched on to her elbow and turned her about so forcefully that she tripped into my chest, forcing me to hang on to her before we both fell again. I really disliked this female and meant to tell her so.

  But of course, the moment her body rubbed up against mine, heat and fire ran through me like a shot of whiskey through my veins. I trembled, feeling ill and weightless all at the same time.

  I hadn’t meant to wrap my arms around her, but they seemed to want to be there, as if holding her was the most natural thing in the world for me to do, as if I’d done this tens of thousands of times before. My knees trembled.

  I’d not been this close to a female in years. That’s all this was. That’s why my body burned so, why my stomach flopped so hard it made me feel sick and queasy, why there was a sudden lump in my throat that made no kind of sense at all.

  When she looked up at me, there was fire in her eyes, but her little black claws were digging into my sodden shirt with the grip of a woman drowning, as if she suffered her own strange feelings of loathing and wanting.

  “I don’t like you,” she said with a voice grown hoarse and kittenish.

  I grinned, shocked to realize I was having far too much fun with this feisty, crazy bird. “Who are you?”

  I don’t know why those words in particular were the ones I chose to speak first, or why finding out her name had suddenly become an obsession, but I think that maybe, deep down, I expected her to give it to me.

  Her frown deepened, and she bit a corner of her shell-pink lips with straight, white, perfect teeth, and again my knees shook. I literally stopped breathing as I waited for her to speak.

  “Do I know you?” She blinked.

  I shook my head, but said, “I’m... not sure.”

  The fire died in her, and as she cocked her head, she resembled the crazy pigêon I now thought her to be.

  “What’s your name?” she asked without answering my question.

  I blinked. Echoes of a voice I did not know, but that seemed unbelievably familiar to me, trembled like the delicate strings of a harp inside my soul. What was this magic? I swallowed and shook my head. Had the demon cursed me somehow without my knowing it?

  She looked up at me with those big, unusual eyes and shook her head. “My God, I’m going crazy right now. Legit, straight up, bat-guano loco. I know you. I know you.”

  I went cold from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and suddenly, I thought of Belle, of the images Rumpel had shown me of her and that shaggy beast of a man together.

  And I grew mad. The rage I’d bottled up suddenly came pouring out of me, and I jerked out of the strange bird’s reach. Lies. All lies. They had to be. And I had no right touching this... this vexing, irritating—my brain screamed other words at me, like lovely and alluring and mysterious, but I ignored them—woman.

  Long lashes kissed the tops of her cheekbones as they fluttered like paint strokes on her pale flesh.

  “I’m—”

  “Don’t say it,” I pleaded. I didn’t know why I was begging, but I needed her to not tell me. I needed to keep her... safe. And somehow I sensed that the moment she finally told me her name nothing would be safe for her again.

  I didn’t have time to wonder why in the hell I’d just thought that, because she did exactly what I told her not to do.

  “Hart. Betty Hart.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath as the demon, Rumplestiltskin, appeared beside us suddenly, leering down at her with greedy flames burning in his eyes.

  “Bloody hell, it’s about time. Now you’re both coming with me!”

  And just like that, we were traveling through a tunnel of stars, and Betty was screaming.

  Chapter 4

  Rumpel

  I left them floating in the stars to see about my own business for a while. Danika’s words continued to haunt me.

  In our previous life, family had been the most important thing to my Shayera—a family’s love for each other, and a desire to fight for it above all else.

  My heart beat a rapid staccato. What if she didn’t understand? What if, in the end, all my machinations failed me? Her? Us?

  I had been running on little to no sleep since this nightmare began, and I knew that I wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to reason rationally through any of this. I needed a guide.

  I needed a seer.

  Moving through portals that led to different worlds, I entered the gray zone, a place of perpetual darkness and gloom where no color shaded the realm except in hues of grays, whites, and blacks, where very little apart from trees and scrub even grew.

  It was the land where she lived, the land of the three-eyed seer. Banished from her homeland centuries ago, even I did not know where she truly hailed from. But she’d needed my powers once, and now it was time she returned the favor.

  Stepping out of my portal, I surveyed the land that seemed forever locked in time. I stood on a deck high in the sky. Swinging vines and creaky boards connected one tree limb to another. The soft, misty drizzle that never relented made me shiver.

  The howls and echoes of unseen monsters rang through the canopy in the sky. The seer’s home was several hundred feet up. To the left, there was nothing but branches and leaves. To the right was a massive sheer cliff with swirling tides of raging sea water the color of night beneath, its depths forever unplumbed.

  Shadows of sea monsters played tricks on the mind. This was a monochromatic watercolor world of depression and hopelessness, the perfect place for an unstable mind.

  Turning on my heel, I walked the pathway that led toward the only domicile in this godforsaken place—a small hut built around the tree itself. Its roof was thatch, and its walls sun-baked mud that’d been enchanted to withstand the constant rains. Small holes had been cut out as windows, and dangling from the eves were thousands of strings threaded through with dead bugs and shells.

  There was only way in and one way out.

  Licking my front teeth once I’d reached the doorway, I reminded myself that all I did, I did for Shayera. I gently shoved the strings of bugs and shells aside. The sound of them was loud and jarring compared to the relative quiet of the place.

  “Who’s there?” The call of a sultry feminine voice followed soon after.

  I stood for a second, allowing my eyes to acclimate to the near blackness within. In seconds, though, I could make out differing shades of darkness and was easily able to navigate the sparse furnishings inside.

  “It is I,” I called o
ut just as the female stepped clear of the shadows hiding her.

  Tall for a woman, she had an alluring exotic appeal that made her both beautiful and unusual. She was a walking dichotomy—mostly slender with barely any breasts, yet with full and curvy hips and arse.

  In her hand, she held a lantern that cast a white glow, allowing me to better see her. Her lips were full, her nose slightly wide at the bridge, but her cheeks were sharp, riveting slashes. Her skin was the color of polished ebony. Even in my world, she’d been dark. In this one, she practically blended into the shadow.

  Her hair was a thick and curly puff that perfectly framed her youthful features. Around her neck, she wore a string of claws that clacked as she walked. Her eyes, in this world and even in mine, were a startling shade of silver rimmed in ice.

  Ea Seko—or The Spider as she was more commonly called—was known to be a bit prickly on the best of days. I could only hope this was a good day.

  “I was of a mind to kill whoever had dared come into my hut without asking, but I see it is you, Rumpelstiltskin,” she drawled, voice more lyrical and fluid than it’d been just seconds ago.

  Lips twitching, I bowed deeply to her. Once, long ago, she and I had shared a very brief but passionate affair. The Spider hadn’t been looking for love, and neither had I. The relationship had been perfect for us both and left me with a great fondness for the seer, when all was said and done. Judging by the twinkle in her eyes, she almost certainly felt the same.

  “I would invite you to stay for dinner, but last I heard, you were a happily-wedded man.” She cocked her head, giving me a come-hither smirk. “Or were my sentinels wrong?”

  I snorted, enjoying her banter despite myself. The Spider was not an easy person to get close to, and yet somehow, I’d managed to slip through the barriers of her prickly spines.

  Sighing, I nodded. “Your pets were not wrong at all, my friend.”