Enemy's Queen: The Aermian Feuds Book Three

by Frost Kay

  “Nothing?” She was only a few steps from him and about fifteen steps from the door. She could make it, but she needed to surprise him.

  “No. You can’t change your imperfections or your heritage.”

  She stilled. Imperfections? Heritage? The words echoed in her mind, familiar. She’d heard almost those exact words from Rhys when he’d been tormenting her. The memory flashed through her mind: Inferior heritage, disgusting imperfections… The air froze in her lungs as something unsettling occurred to her. Stars above, no… Had Rhys’ insanity been a product of Zane’s influence? Could Zane be the originator of those barbaric ideas? But how could that be true? Truth or not, she had to escape now.

  She lunged for the door, her quivering muscles screaming. Her heart galloped in her chest as she wrenched open the door, but there wasn’t enough room to slip into the hallway before he hooked an arm around her. Sage let loose a scream and caught the calm expression of one guard before Zane pulled her back against him and landed a hand on the door, slamming it closed.

  Then his breath was in her ear. “You can’t run from me. It’s only fair, really, as I haven’t been able to run from your memory for years.”

  Memory? She screamed again and lifted her legs to the door, pushing against it with all her might. Just as she hoped, it upset their balance enough that they crashed to the floor. Sage pulled herself to her feet and lunged for the door again. Zane stepped in front of her and held his arms out, a smirk on his face.

  She skidded and turned toward the draperies. Maybe she could make it out the window. She zeroed in on a lamp. That would break the glass.

  But she wasn’t fast enough. Again, the warlord’s arms encircled her. “Why are you trying to run, wild one? There’s nowhere to go.”

  “Let me go!”

  “Never.” He punctuated the word with a bite, latching onto the skin between her neck and shoulder.

  She cried out, pain pulsing from the spot he’d bitten. “Please stop, Zane. You’re not yourself.”

  “I am, actually. I finally am.” He tightened his grip on her body and dragged her backward, away from the window.

  Sage jerked her head to the side, her eyes widened in fear. “No! You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.” He didn’t slow down. She clawed at his arms and fought harder. She had not survived the jungle and Rhys only to be ravished today. She’d die first. “Zane, stop! Just think about this first!”

  “I’m afraid that’s all I’ve been doing. All day, every day. My control can only last so long.”

  She screamed again when he pushed her face down onto the bed. She tried to scramble away, but his hand closed around her ankle and jerked her back. She pulled the dagger he’d given her from its sheath and then gasped as he dropped his weight down onto her, pinning her arms and legs, his hand closing around the dagger.

  “No,” she cried desperately, straining with all her might to hold on to her only weapon.

  He dug his finger into the web of her fingers, and like magic, her hand released the blade without her consent. She twisted her face to the side and arched her neck, so she could breathe and keep herself from suffocating in the pillows. “Please don’t do this. I’m Sage Blackwell, your friend. Don’t do this,” she pleaded. “I’m your friend. Work through your berserker rage. This isn’t what you want.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve never seen what I’ve wanted and you still haven’t a clue.” Suddenly, she felt cool metal bite into her neck as he held something to her throat. She jerked, and a sharp edge of metal pierced the fragile skin where her pulse hammered.

  “Hold still or you’ll hurt yourself,” he commanded.

  “Go to hell.”

  “I own it, and I’ll make you queen of it. You’ll suffer as much as I have.”

  As he said these words, she felt him squeeze the metal around her neck until it encircled her like a collar. She wheezed at the pressure, choking on her pain and panic. The warlord yanked her back off the bed as she coughed and tried to catch a breath.

  “Help!” she huffed, but it was barely audible.

  He spun her to face the mirror, one hand banding around her waist and arms, immobilizing her; the other lifted her chin to display what was constricting her breathing. She gasped and tried to look away, but his bruising grip held her still.

  It was the crown. Roses and thorns. Obsidians and rubies. Death and Blood. It wrapped around her neck like a beautifully-crafted animal collar.

  “Lovely,” he purred, watching her reaction in the mirror. “For so long, I’ve wanted my crown on your skin, it’s been unbearable.” One finger slipped from under her chin to caress her lips. “Do you like it?”

  Sage tried to bite his wandering finger. “Don’t touch me!”

  He smiled, looking pleased. “It’s too bad you don’t share my appreciation, Sage.”

  How was she to get away now? Letting her legs buckle beneath her, she dropped her entire body weight. If he had been any other man, it would’ve worked. But she should have known better; he wasn’t just any man. She hung in his grasp while he simply smiled at her like she was an indulgent child.

  “I guess if you insist on misbehaving, you’ll need to be restrained.”

  “No!” She struggled harder. If he tied her, there was no escape. She ignored the thorns biting into her neck as she fought him. She cried out and threw her head back into his face, stomping on his instep. It did nothing. He simply picked her up and carried her to the wall where he yanked down a tapestry. Her horror doubled as she discovered chains behind it, secured to stone. She screamed bloody murder. “Help!”

  In a move both smooth and painful, he secured her hands above her head, then stepped back, rubbing his chin as though admiring his work. Her breath see-sawed in and out of her chest, and her legs quivered with exhaustion. She strained against the manacles, and the familiar feeling send a wildness through her as she flashed back to the dungeon and Rhys.

  “I’m not him,” the warlord said quietly.

  How did he know what she was thinking?

  “You’re everything like him.” How had she been so blind? But why trick her into trusting him? He had her weak and sick when he discovered her in the cell. Or was that a lie, too? Her mind spun, but she couldn’t untangle anything with the panic riding her. “Why?” she shouted.

  The warlord rushed toward her and pushed her into the wall, both of his arms caging her in. “Because you’re too alluring for your own good!” His eyes darted between hers. “I should be disgusted by your imperfections, by your green eyes.” He ran a hand along her exposed collarbone. “By your creamy, scarred skin—but I’m not.”

  Rage flashed across his face; he slammed his hands against the wall, making plaster from the ceiling rain down around them. She cringed back from him. Just how strong was he?

  He stepped back and jerked his shirt into place. “I should just take you and get this over with.”

  Revulsion overwhelmed her, and she pressed herself hard into the wall. “No.”

  “No?” he scoffed and took a step closer. “Nothing but ‘yes’ should come out of your mouth. You’d be lucky if I took you.” His gaze dropped to her body and stayed there. “You’d love it, revel in it.”

  She gagged. “That’s exactly what it would be: taking,” she replied, trying to gain his attention from where it was currently fixated. “I would never consent.”

  “I doubt that,” he whispered. Carefully, he reached out a finger and ran it over her chest.

  She hunched her shoulders forward in an attempt to make her breasts smaller.

  “There’s no need to hide. I’ve seen it all before, Sage. Every inch of your skin has been bared to me.” He moved closer, pressing his body along hers, his lips brushing her temple. “I promise it will be so good, but I’ll wait. It will be all the more sweet when you cave in to me.”

  She panted harder, his excitement making bile flood her mouth. “I’ll make it terrible. That is my promise.”<
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  He ignored her comment. “And lucky for me, I can introduce to you all the pleasures of intimacy. In this way, you’re different. She was never innocent.”

  She froze. Who was he talking about? Another woman he’d been with? “You will introduce me to nothing.”

  Zane chuckled, his voice rough as his hands roamed down her body and wedged between the wall and her butt. “I can tell when you lie, wild one. Something tells me that the crown prince did not touch your flesh.” His hands traced from the back of her around to the front, and his fingers slipped inside her robe to caress her bare thigh.

  Her breath hitched as he continued his journey upward. She snapped her teeth at the warlord, a smug smile on his lips, his pupils dilated. “Get your hands off me!”

  “I’ve never appreciated our garments, or lack thereof,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers, as though enjoying her reaction. “I suspect Aermia is different in this way. You have too much modesty. It’s useless.”

  Her panic increased as his hand inched higher. She bucked against him. “Stop!” When that didn’t work, she used her last resort. She spat into his face.

  The smirk on his face dissolved; he pulled his hand from inside her robe and placed it over the juncture of her thighs.

  “Don’t test me.”

  Sage’s breathing was shallow. She was very aware that only a flimsy piece of barely-tied linen protected her.

  Zane pressed his forehead to hers and kept eye contact. “I can feel the heat of you,” he growled and then licked his lips.

  “You’re vulgar,” she spat, turning her head to the side.

  “And barbaric. So you’ve told me,” he purred.

  He removed his hand and pressed against her, his hips snug with her, and she shuddered, disgusted. She didn’t know which was worse, his hands or his body.

  He placed a small kiss behind her ear like a lover, not a ravisher. “Sage,” he groaned. “What am I going to do with you? I should have just had you bred, but when I saw you in my throne room covered in dirt, grime, and blood, glaring at me with your emerald gaze, I knew you were special. You were the one.”

  Sage had tuned him out and was staring at the curtains covering the window. Her escape had been so close all along, and yet she had never even dreamed of running. Stupid. Her stupidity never ceased to amaze her.

  “You’re not stupid, Sage. Far from it, actually. I’d never say this to your face, but it’s one of things I like about you,” Tehl whispered.

  Relief filled her at the sound of his voice. She wasn’t alone. Fingers touched her chin gently and forced her gaze back to Zane’s face.

  “You have no more energy to fight him off. The time for fighting is over, love. It’s time to hide, okay? It’s alright to let go. You need not be aware for this. I’ll protect you.”

  The warlord watched her as he pressed his lips to hers. Sage didn’t fight, didn’t respond. He pulled back and cocked his head, frowning. “Kiss me once like you mean it, and I shall leave you unmolested.”

  It took her a moment to process what he was saying. She barely had any energy left. “Forever, or just tonight?”

  “Forever.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You know me, Sage. Have I ever taken anything that wasn’t offered?”

  The question confused her. Had he ever taken anything? No. But he wasn’t in his right mind. Or was he? Was he crazy, or did the berserker rage work differently with him? She mentally slapped herself. Why was she trying to find an excuse for him?

  He must have seen her thinking about it and pounced. “I want you willing. I will not force anything from you. It’s barbaric and disgusting. Any man can force a woman, but seduction? That takes skill. Come to me willingly and life will continue as it has.” He smiled beautifully as he spoke and she hated it. It was so unfair that the rot in his soul wasn’t evident on his face. “It’s just one kiss. Be reasonable.”

  It was more than that. It meant her surrender. It would be her choice.

  “Sage, he’s telling the truth,” Tehl whispered again. “Protect yourself at all costs. Just imagine me when kissing him.”

  She squared off with the warlord. “One kiss.”

  Anticipation flashed across his face. “One.”

  She expected him to maul her right away, but instead, he paused, his eyes softening as he simply looked at her. He then crooked a finger beneath her chin and raised her face toward his, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip.

  “Flawless,” he whispered and touched his mouth to hers. He drew his hand down her neck to the hollow of her throat just below where he’d forced the metal collar. His breath caressed her skin and her entire body tensed. This was so wrong. She didn’t know if she could do this.

  “Just breathe. It’ll be okay, love,” Tehl murmured.

  One muscle at a time, she tried to force her body to relax. His arms wound around her so tightly she could hardly breathe. His hands spanned her back before leisurely exploring her curves, their trailing path leaving her skin crawling. He held her securely against him and tangled one hand in her loose tresses, cupping the back of her head as he first brushed his lips across the bow of her top lip, then her full bottom lip, his touch feather-light. When he began softly nibbling at it, she started shaking. This was too much. I’m sorry, Tehl. Everywhere he touched felt dirty, and guilt pooled in her belly.

  He pulled back, his fingertips touching her chin and tracing her jaw, catching the wet trails of tears she didn’t know she’d shed. “It’s all right, love. Open for me.”

  More tears burned in her eyes, but she closed them to keep them from falling. This was her choice, no matter how sick and twisted it was. He cupped the side of her face gently, and kissed her like he could consume her. One tear squeezed out when he moaned quietly. She sucked a deep breath when his hand slid down, fingers brushing across the tender skin under her jaw, then trailing over her abused neck.

  Stars above, she couldn’t do this. It was too much. She turned her head to the side to break the kiss. His mouth traveled across her jaw and along the side of her neck, following the path of his hand. His fingers caught the edge of her robe and pushed the fabric off her shoulder. The cold air made her shiver, and her eyes slammed open as he nipped at her collarbone.

  Tehl stood behind the warlord, staring at her over Zane’s shoulder. He gave her a tender look. Sorrow rose, howling inside her, choking her. All that time she spent fighting Tehl, making him the villain, blaming him, and yet he wasn’t the monster of her story, he was the hero. He’d always been the hero, albeit an awkward one.

  Zane lifted his head, his hooded gaze scorching her. “That was as exquisite as I imagined it to be.”

  Sage stared at him, knowing he’d taken something from her she’d never get back. His hand slid down into her robe to cup her bare belly.

  His fingers caressed the skin, and his smile was all male satisfaction. “Just imagine what you’ll look like when you’re swollen with my child.”

  All of her muscles locked down. “Excuse me?”

  He graced her with one of his heart-stopping smiles. “You’ll make a wonderful consort, and our children will make the most powerful warriors. Just imagine Aermia and Scythia ruling together.”

  “You’re out of your damned mind,” she blurted. “I’m married.”

  “No, I promise you, you are not.” His smile was sin and the devil rolled into one. “Wild one, do you remember when I saved you from that hole? Healers were necessary, and so was an examination.”

  “What?” she asked through numb lips. He couldn’t mean…

  He cupped her cheek, a tender look on his face. “I had to be sure. I couldn’t make you mine if you’d been used. Imagine my excitement when my healers informed me you were pure. Your marriage is void if not consummated. You, my love, will be my queen. And make no mistake, I won’t make the same mistake as the Aermian prince.”

  “I will never marry you. I’ll die
first.” She meant it.

  He chuckled like she was amusing him. “There are a great many things that you, my love, will do for those you love.”

  “You’re just like Rhys,” she whispered. “He said something similar to me once.”

  The warlord scoffed. “He’s nothing like me, but a cheap imitation. I’m the original.”

  “How could I be so blind?” she muttered.

  “It’s not your fault. You’re young and naïve still. Time hasn’t jaded you or turned you into a suspicious shrew. It’s a good thing.”

  “You disgust me.”

  “Disgust can turn to love.”

  He was delusional. “You can take many things from me, but my love will not be one of them.”

  The warlord studied her. “I have plenty of time, but I think you need a visit from the dead to inspire you to action.”

  Dread filled her. “The dead?” she croaked.

  “Yes, I think Jasmine needs to visit.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Tehl

  Sweat dripped down Tehl’s forehead and into his eyes. He swiped a quick hand across his brow, his eyes never leaving his opponent. It took only one moment of distraction to lose your life.

  His arms screamed in protest as he met his attacker head-to-head, their swords flashing in the morning light as they crashed into each other. Tehl clenched his jaw and pushed against their crossed swords, hoping to upset the other’s balance.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” his brother heckled.

  Tehl spun out from their lock and retreated, his teeth bared in a ferocious smile. He kept his steps light as he maneuvered around Sam and met each thrust and cut of his sword. Every move was calculated on his part for, slowly but surely, he was wearing his opponent out.

  “You have enough yet?” Tehl taunted him.

  Blue eyes, so like his own, narrowed on him. “Big words for the man who passed out after yesterday’s bout.”

  He glared at his brother, but didn’t take the bait. He knew better than to let anger take reign over his actions. Giving into anger made you sloppy; it made you lose. Instead, he coolly assessed his brother’s form as they sparred. The spymaster had been favoring his right side for the last five minutes.