To Crown A Beast (Blackest Gold Book 4)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products ofthe author’s imagination or are used factiously.
TO CROWN A BEAST
Copyright © 2017 by R. Scarlett
All rights reserved.
Pictures on the front of the book:
Man: Stock photo ID: 268027562 by ITALO
Woman: Stock photo ID: 262847522 by Svyatoslava Vladzimirska
Photograph on back of book by Lauren Perry
Book design
Cover and book design by Mae I Design & Photography
Edited by Bex Harper and Ellie McLove (LoveNBooks)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
To the true storyteller, Robert Cousins.
You were the first one to show me the gift of storytelling and each story you tell is magical. Not many people I know have the skill and strength you command simply with words. I am so proud to call you my grandpa and you’ve taught me so much on how to work hard and cherish every single story. I love you grandpa, to the moon and back.
Devotion by Hurts
The War by SYML
Become the Beast by Karliene
The Other Side by Ruelle
Cold by Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz
Bones by Low Roar
Hurts Too Good by Ruelle
You Were Never Gone by Hannah Ellis
Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey
Gemini Feed (Salute Remix) by Banks
“we were both created in chaos,
we were both born to destroy.
you were like death,
and i was like war.
and where we collided,
darling, i loved you.”
— born disasters || k.a.
THE BEAST IGNORED the burn in his veins, thriving off the adrenaline storming through him, and turned to face the court, covered in blood—his own and the former king’s.Painted in power, painted in sin, he bared his teeth, licking at the edge of his mouth as he looked over his court.
The court that trembled in his mere presence, and it only hungered him for more power.
A lone figure stood out amidst the sea of snakes and he eyed her. His daemon.
CLOAKED IN WARM darkness, Molly Darling approached the High Court’s new king. King of all demons. The man she had married not even a day ago, the man who had told her he loved her mere hours before.
A single glance from his obsidian eyes felt like a thousand daggers slicing across her flesh, letting her drain out and collapse. Those soft lips of his were smoothed into a line of indifference.
Impassive. Fierce. Deadly.
The crowd had dropped to the ground in low bows, like a god to mortals, like a storm sinking mighty ships, sinking the wreckage to the ocean’s bottom deep.
Her stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. The man she loved now long gone, replaced by a beast: dark and hungry for pain and suffering. And so Molly’s knees bent, bowing to her king like the rest of them.
Tensley’s sharp eyes watched her every move, pupils dilating at the spike in her pulse.
She wanted to touch him—to calm her racing thoughts. Two sides warred in her.
The rational—and the irrational.
One knew the damage was done.
The other, hoped—hoped that the broken shards in her chest, cutting deep into her lungs, were a lie.
Tensley Knight hadn’t died.
Tensley Knight hadn’t had his heart ripped out by the king, and then moments later, beheaded Fallen.
Heartless.
Empty.
Not her Tensley.
Not the man she had fallen utterly and deeply in love with.
Her knees hit the cool marble floor and she bowed her head, eyeing the tiny specks of gold glimmering against the white slabs—splattered with Fallen’s still fresh blood. The previous king’s body lay decapitated a few feet away, lifeless—an ancient body turned to stone.
She breathed through her nose shakily, fallen strands of hair fanning across her tear stained cheeks.
In, out. In, out.
If she kept calming herself with soothing breaths, she wouldn’t pass out. She wouldn’t sob aloud in pain and let the court see her crushing under the shock.
She couldn’t piece the facts together. She wanted to collapse. Ignore everything.
You’re in shock.
Tensley’s shadow moved across the floor, his boots thudding harshly like cries of war, and with each step forward, she recoiled.
Then two black riding boots stopped in front of her and she examined their weathered texture, the mud and dirt and specks of blood coating the dark leather.
In, out. In, out.
She didn’t know what was going on in his head, what would be his next move, and her nerves were eating at her. Seconds, minutes perhaps, passed by painfully slow. No one moved. No one spoke. All she could do was concentrate on her own shaky breaths as she waited. And waited.
Ever so slowly, she tilted her head upward. Her gaze traced up his toned thighs— breeches tight, up his strong chest— the ugly punctured hole there a symbol of what he had lost, and she froze, carefully lifting her gaze further.
She saw the vicious man in parts—first his jaw, as sharp as a deadly weapon, a muscle feathering there under his clench, those full, tempting lips she touched every morning and every night, the feel of his lips the last thing she’d feel before falling asleep at night. And lastly, with eyes blurred by tears due to the crushing pain now residing permanently in her chest, she found his eyes.
A calm storm rippled in the depths of them, controlled by their master. Dark grey, but with a cold edge of anger slicing through, of rage, and she knew how easily he could snap.
In, out. In, out.
She kept repeating to herself.
Over and over.
His fisted hand relaxed beside his thigh and with one single fluid movement, two fingers touched th
e soft and fragile skin under her chin.
“Stand,” he commanded coolly, his hoarse voice causing chills on her skin. Because she still responded to him. Still craved the man before her, despite the hunger of the beast.
She stood, his fingers still anchored to her chin, and eyed him from underneath her lashes.
He simply stared back, that jaw flexing, those eyes darkening to the point she wondered what he was calculating.
This isn’t Tensley.
He’s not heartless.
Surely…
Surely he’s still somewhere in there.
Far beneath, perhaps. But still there.
Please.
Please...
“Tensley,” she whispered, hating how her voice wobbled and cracked. She hated how so much emotion echoed in one single word. His name. His precious name she cried out in the darkness, the name that made her stomach flutter with giddiness, and the name that soothed the fear throbbing in her chest and head.
His eyes narrowed.
Simply narrowed, and she sucked in air fast.
Now it was just a hollow name that echoed through this new emptiness ravaging deep within her chest.
“This is absurd,” a lord snapped and Molly flinched at the loud sound when the room had previously been so silent. Unbearably silent. A lord, one she had seen a handful of times, stood out from the crowd, his face red in anger.
Tensley’s head turned ever so slowly toward the man, a look of indifference, his jaw finally relaxing to its usual state. Sharp, precise, beautiful…
“A heartless bastard, a bastard that murdered our king,” the lord bit out, gesturing to the corpse of the fallen king.
“Remus,” another man hissed at him. “Stand down.”
“Stand down?” Remus, the lord, took a few brave steps forward, laughing angrily at his fellow court member. “I will not stand to be led by a middle-class bastard,” he spat out angrily, eyes blazing with hatred. His focus turned to Molly and he growled viciously at her. “A man who, mere minutes ago, had his own heart ripped out because he fell in love for a worthless piece of woman. A filthy whore with no title.”
“Lords,” Lilith said, stepping forward, her head high, but Molly eyed her shaking, clenched hands in front of her stomach. Lilith rolled her shoulders back and faced the crowd, her chin high, her eyes curved in dominance and power. “I suggest we do not let him become king. Fallen is dead, and with him so could be his numerous laws. He no longer rules, therefore why should he still dictate our ways? My son deserves to be the king more than this wild beast,” she added with a sneer in Tensley’s direction. “This is a civilized court, after all. Blood should speak louder than dominance.”
A few men roared their agreement.
“Is it not blood that I am covered in, Lady Lilith,” Tensley spat darkly, his voice slicing through the room viciously. “Am I not wearing your late husband’s precious blood on me? Blood speaks louder, indeed.”
“Stand down, Dux,” the prince’s voice echoed over the vicious crowd, the sound powerful and unafraid. He took a single step forward, people around him stepping to the side immediately. His authority over the court was palpable, king or not, he had power and would stop at nothing to use it. Blood splattered across his sheer shirt, delicate chains looped at the top of it. Born with royal blood, raised in gold and darkness, he was molded into a king. “Now would be the time to honor our bargain,” he said, jaw clenched, but the rest of his composure was nothing but a chilling calm.
Molly eyed the prince’s cool composure. The bargain. Tensley had promised to kill Fallen and hand over the crown to his son in exchange for safety for the both of them, as well as their unborn son.
Tensley didn’t say a word and stared back at the prince coolly.
“A Dux does not become king—one of us, bred from grace and power,” Remus hollered, getting brave enough to step closer as he met the stares of each of his peers. Lilith’s features pinched into an ugly scowl. “We deserve the crown, we deserve the throne. Your blood is too wild, too tainted by your bride.”
Molly stole a glance at Tensley’s features, but she only saw perfect composure. A cool expression of steel and strength.
“And you betrayed Fallen’s sacred laws whilst he still reigned. His word was still law as you committed that sin,” Remus said, jabbing his shaking finger toward Molly. Molly swallowed as the whole court turned to look at her. “A child out of wedlock. Both the bastard child and the whore should be killed for the crime. I will not let this court be tainted by their filth and disgrace.” He growled out again, veins pulsing wildly in his neck as his hands shook.
Molly could feel the air in the court thicken and waver, the tension building to a boiling point. A few other members shouted their approval, pushing Remus closer and closer to her. She placed a hand on her stomach, glaring at the man. Everyone cried out their opinions, battling to win against the other voices, but all of their eyes stayed on their new king. Waiting, anticipating his reaction. Calculating the risks, the possibilities.
The lord’s features were sharpened in anger and he spoke, but his words were muffled by the voices battling in the court. Of agreements and disagreements.
“You fucking whore,” Remus hissed now only mere feet away from her, encouraged by the exclamations of several lords. “You foul excuse of an existence. Perhaps we should hang you for all of this, I would enjoy the sight of your limp, naked and bruised body, hanging loose from a rope. We’d let it on display, to rot under the sun. Perhaps we’ll even let the males have a go at the whore before she’s hung.” He announced, with a monstrous smile creeping on his lips. “How do we feel about that, gentlemen?”
And those were his last words.
Tensley gripped Remus by his shoulders, yanked him back and wrapped a powerful arm around his throat.
The lord’s face quickly became purple, his eyes seeming to pop out of their socket.
The crowd hushed.
Tensley’s muscles flexed in his arm, like a serpent ready to kill its prey and tightened viciously.
Snap.
It echoed against the cathedral ceilings, the court silenced completely, and a woman fainted in the back of the room, a thud resounding as her body hit the ground.
Tensley stared at Molly, his pitch-black eyes drilling deeply into her, watching her chest fall and rise rapidly in shock.
No remorse.
He didn’t flinch, he didn’t pause, he simply attacked and devoured.
One second he had been completely composed, and the next he had snapped so fast her head had spun.
She shivered at the realization.
There was no man left inside Tensley. Just a wild, dangerous beast. A predator and a conqueror.
He removed his arm from Remus and the lord’s heavy body fell onto the marble slabs.
He turned to the crowd, scanning them like the predator he was, watching for one to flinch, for one to run, for one to attack. None of them moved. Molly wondered if they even breathed. “I am your king,” he said, loud and clear, his voice vibrating through the floor. “And anyone who dares defy me will meet the same fate.” He growled deep and rough, a powerful arm pointing at the body slumped at his feet.
Molly looked over at the prince, his mouth twisted into a frown, wild fire and deadly ice flowing through his eyes. He looked at her, gaze almost freezing her alive, and she turned quickly away.
The prince was enraged.
Not because his father had died. The prince had hated every breath his father had ever taken. But because Tensley was refusing to hand over the crown as planned. He wasn’t honoring their bargain.
Murder the crown, marry the crown.
“Defy you?” the prince spat, his eyes returning to Tensley. “It is my right. The crown is mine.” A low growl vibrating through the prince’s chest, loud enough for all to hear.
Tensley stared back, far too long, far too calm. “Choose to stand behind me or choose your death.” Tensley moved, his boots thun
dering once more. When he moved, the crowd moved, when he raised his hand, they cowered. Like a god of the sea, summoning vicious waves.
“I do not stand behind others and wait. I take what I want,” the prince spat.
And then the prince lunged, their bodies colliding like two freight trains. Molly heard the steel of bones and flesh battling together for dominance.
She watched in sheer horror as the two beasts destroyed each other; each claw, each punch drew more blood onto their skin, bruised and battered, and all she could do was stare.
“Tensley,” she gasped. No one heard her though. They weren’t interested in what the filthy whore had to say. She moved forward, invading their battle ground. The prince dug his fingers into the hole in Tensley’s chest and Tensley let out a fractured cry. “Tensley,” she screamed, her own voice cracking under the force of her emotions.
The beasts thrashed, further, further into destruction that would end badly for both.
Molly felt the twist inside of her—the ache of power, of strength combusting, and she fisted her hands.
They had to stop. They had to stop fighting before they murdered each other. A desperate need boiled inside of her.
The icy sensation began behind her eyes, the glow, but she could feel the power in her voice, in her limbs.
“Stop,” she commanded, her voice iron and steel.
Her strength—her voice alone, tore the two men apart.
The vibrancy, the strength struck her deep—as if it was purely a part of her. Her power like a deadly whip. Something shifted inside of her, something felt different and she couldn’t place it.
Tensley stood, his dark eyes focused now on her. She touched her throat, eyeing the court that watched her in confusion and fear.
With a single roar, Tensley marched toward her, a force to be reckoned with.
Her heart warred against her chest as she watched the beast storm toward her. Instinct to protect her rooted deep within himself.
Molly caught the prince moving toward them, but he stopped. Both men looked at each other, gazes filled with a battle of their own.
One dripped with undying rage.
The other oozing with cold hatred.
Two trapped, raging beasts.
Two opposite goals.