To Crown A Beast (Blackest Gold Book 4)

by R. Scarlett

  Her hands shook and she spread them under the heated water, letting her back rest against the tub. She rolled her neck back and sighed.

  And just like that, the heat was consuming her again, as the ache deep in her belly surged. The cravings weren’t as regular or often as they had been before, but she still yearned for his touch. Yearned for his hands on her body. And so in the privacy of the bathroom, Molly closed her eyes and pictured her husband’s large, callused hands.

  So worn, so weathered, her thighs squeezed together tightly in a failed attempt to calm the ache.

  She saw his full lips drawn into the rare smile he shared only with her—only for her, and his bulging muscles flexing as he moved.

  When her hands smoothed down her stomach, she imagined they were his powerful ones. Caressing, searching, exploring the curves of her body. And when his large fingers reached her folds and caressed them lazily, with torturous slowness under the water, she sighed in deep pleasure.

  Sometimes, he liked to love her brutally. He fucked hard and fast. Letting his beast come out to play, and giving her a taste of his true essence. And when he did, she always loved every second of it.

  And other times, he enjoyed worshiping her body like it was his temple. Like she was his queen and he had to serve her at all costs. Those times, he liked to go slow and deep, taking his time to discover every inch of skin he hadn’t yet kissed. Hadn’t yet loved.

  And she loved those times just as much.

  Each stroke stirred the embers deep inside of her and she breathed heavily out. One hand touched her exposed breast, half emerged in the water and she bit her bottom lip.

  Deeper the strokes became and she kept her eyes shut, wishing to imagine it was his hands working her to pleasure.

  “Tensley,” she moaned deeply, the sound almost rough as it passed the barrier of her lips.

  Her fingers worked deeper, faster, the water splashing and she felt her orgasm near, so close—until she heard a low, sensual growl coming from behind her and her eyes flashed open as her fingers slowed.

  Her head turned, looking behind her, where the sound had come from. And there, in the shadows of the large, dimly lit washroom stood her husband.

  His hooded gaze froze her mid-stroke and she felt her body slide down further into the water. Even still, she knew he could see everything. Her breasts peaked like mountains, the water pooled around them, and her hand still cupped her sex.

  Flushed and shocked, she went to remove her hand.

  “Don’t,” he hissed out, echoing loudly against the high ceilings.

  Molly stilled once more and she couldn’t look away from him. His chest heaved, his nostrils flared, and that darkness in his eyes went straight to her core.

  He wanted her.

  Badly. But all he did was cross the room with powerful strides until he reached the opposite wall, and casually leaned against it.

  He stood right in front of her now. Observing her every move as his tongue licked his bottom lip ever so slowly. His eyes devoured lazily as if nothing else mattered.

  They started at her eyes, the look in his own making her shiver, the peaks of her breasts tightening painfully.

  Then they traveled down to her collared throat, a possessive growl escaping his own lips at the sight.

  Then they followed the path down to her breasts, and just with his gaze, she could tell all the things he wanted to do to them.

  Slowly, they left her breasts and found her stomach, the tiny bump there reminding them both of the product of the love they once shared. Growing inside of her, protected and cherished by the soft body of a woman.

  And finally; his eyes reached the center of her pleasure and she felt herself tighten with desire, deep within. She craved a beast and he craved her too.

  Her legs were wide open, her position hiding nothing from his view. She didn’t care. As soon as she had seen the pleasure and need flashing in his eyes, she had stopped caring. There was nothing to be ashamed of. The look he was giving her made her feel powerful.

  Desirable.

  Sinful.

  But sin had never felt better.

  Fire burned deep within her, pleasure pulsed between her legs, and with his eyes now firmly on her, unwavering, observing, it brought it all to new heights.

  She moaned so deeply it was almost imperceptible. But he heard, and his nostrils flared, eyes consumed by darkness and need.

  His hands clenched and unclenched beside him and that’s when she noted the large bulge in his trousers.

  “You don’t want me to stop?” she asked, dragging her eyes from his erection back to that shadowed face of his.

  He bared his teeth, his eyes narrowing. “No.”

  She was curious…of how much power she had over him.

  She wanted to taunt him—as he had taunted her.

  “Is that an order, my king?”

  His brow furrowed deeply. “Yes.”

  So she obeyed his command with a soft smile and stroked deeper, arching her back so her breasts were in plain sight for him.

  “Do I please you?” she breathed out, finding his eyes. He stared at her—his eyes dragging across each part of her, but always returning to her features. “Do I please my king the way I should? The way I vowed to when I married you,” she added on the same sensual tone, her eyes half closed with pleasure. “I am ready to bare my body to him — his precious temple, his soothing warmth of night, and bitter bite of ice. Obedience and patience will be my oath—carrying the inferno of his power in my womb,” she said, repeating the wedding vows she had recited only a few days ago, all the while her hand kept stroking, deep.

  He grunted once and she took that as a yes.

  She rolled her head back, her damp curls falling over one breast. Her skin was pink from the warmth of the bath.

  She moaned when she touched her clit and met his eyes. “Do you remember what I taste like?”

  His nostrils flared, his gaze fixated on her hand between her thighs. Those powerful hands of his shook as they fisted.

  “Do you remember how it felt when you touched me? With a finger…with two?” She smiled softly at him, at the fury battling below the surface. “Do you remember how tight I was? How it felt when I clenched around you?”

  He growled back at her, but she only smiled in return and closed her eyes.

  “Oh Tensley,” she whispered, the heat spreading, the heat devouring reason and fear, and it took her.

  It took her in waves and she cried out, the water splattering as she quivered in pleasure.

  Once it passed, she relaxed into the warmth and looked up at him, tiredly.

  He hadn’t moved, but his jaw was clenched tightly and he didn’t look away from her.

  “Do you remember anything?” she whispered, the water just below her bottom lip now as she sunk back.

  He stared back at her, eyes turning cold and hard. There was no pleasure left in them anymore and it made her uncomfortable. Maybe she had pushed him too much, too fast. She sighed and he growled with anger. “The feast is in an hour. You will sit beside me and eat from my hand only. That is also a command,” he snapped.

  With that, he left, stomping out of the washroom and leaving her alone.

  The heat had left her body now. Tonight, she reminded herself, tonight she would curse him to remember.

  MOLLY EYED HER king, her husband, as he sat upon his throne, watching the court nibble on their feast. Each time she looked at him, she thought of the hours ago she worked herself to orgasm and he watched her.

  She shook herself from those thoughts.

  The time was now. The time to curse the beast and bring back the man.

  The time to bring back his heart.

  Molly’s hands twisted beneath the grand table, her heart following afterward.

  This would either work or destroy her husband.

  She had to taunt the beast, tease him into anger and insanity to succeed, and that was dangerous in itself.

  He won�
�t hurt me.

  It was the least of her worries.

  What worried her more was him figuring out their plan.

  Lilith leaned close to Tensley, the tops of her breasts exposed for him to gaze down on, but he kept his gaze ahead. His brutal, death glare that sent any target into a frenzy of terror.

  Everywhere Molly had seen Tensley, Lilith hadn’t been far behind. She knew exactly what Lilith was doing, or trying to do. She was trying to dig her claws in deep to gain control over Tensley, to use him like she wanted to use her own son.

  Throughout the entire meal, Tensley hadn’t glanced at Molly or even touched his food. He was simply a statue of indifference, but she noted the way his hands fisted on his thighs, the way his eyes swept across the crowd, he was calculating something.

  A glass clinked and Molly turned to see the prince on the other side of Lilith, standing, a clear flute in hand.

  “A toast,” the prince said, the crowd quieting. He lifted the flute, his head angled downward, but his eyes burned with intensity. Tensley watched him, no change in his expression. The prince’s eyes darted to Molly’s and he grinned. “To our beautiful queen.”

  Molly paled.

  She heard Tensley’s teeth grind against each other and saw his fisted hands shake.

  Pissing off the beast now wasn’t part of the plan.

  The prince nodded at her, that annoying smile still playing on his lips and downed his drink. He slammed it down and took off. His exit.

  Hers would be now.

  The crowd murmured, but went back to their meals, the music lifting into the cool night.

  “I’ll retire early,” Molly announced as she stood from her chair. Tensley’s head snapped so fast she swore she heard bones crack. He didn’t move from his seat and she continued down the few steps onto the leveled floor. Each step, she prayed under her breath he’d follow.

  Once she passed the hallway to the rest of the palace, she quickened her pace and focused on the balcony.

  The cool night air assaulted her flushed cheeks, not a sound of life in the darkness surrounding the palace. When she disappeared onto the patio, she moved down the steps and onto the fresh green grass. The forest in front of her taunted her fears and memories.

  “Molly,” that cold, masculine voice wrapped around her throat and she glanced over her bare shoulder.

  Tensley stood a few feet back, his fisted hands beside him. His brows furrowed. “What are you doing out here?”

  Molly sucked in a deep breath. The prince was right. Tensley’s beast still was possessive, still needed her close and under his thumb.

  That need would be his downfall and her advantage.

  “A walk in the woods,” Molly said, removing her heels, letting the soles of her feet kiss the chilled grass. The breeze blew her chiffon dress, the fabric wrapping around her thighs.

  A shiver spread across her bare arms.

  “Come inside,” he said and she could, for once, see he was trying to be collected in his rage.

  She took a small step back and cocked her head to the side.

  His jaw flexed. “Don’t test my patience.”

  “If you can catch me,” Molly whispered, lifting her dress. “Then you can have me.”

  His chest heaved, slow and hard, and his nostrils flared. “You want to play with the beast, wife?” He moved forward, his body a wall of steel and power, one easily able to catch her. A shiver of dread and terrifying promise ran down her spine. “When I catch you, I will more than have you.” Those stormy eyes darkened, a raging thunder taking over. “Run, before I sink my teeth into you again.”

  She didn’t waste a second. She ran, her pulse quickening when she felt his footfalls not far behind her.

  She ducked into the woods, down the only visible path, swatting stray branches out of her way. And he was so close, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

  The branches scratched at her arms, tearing into her skin. Her dress torn and tangled. She had memorized the path, but fear clouded her mind.

  She couldn’t forget, she couldn’t lose focus.

  Don’t let fear win.

  Insects buzzed and Tensley’s low hiss surrounded her.

  She pushed back a branch and saw the tiny-slated cottage. She moved, shoving more branches out of the way and rushed to the clearing.

  A few more feet, just a few more feet.

  Two powerful hands clasped her arms and spun her into his arms. She gasped loudly, gawking up at her husband.

  His ruthless brow was drawn into a frown, and he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Don’t run from me. It drives me mad.”

  “Tensley—” She tried to glance back at the cottage, but his grip tightened. She stared up at his darkness, at the fuming rage within, and calmed herself. “I will obey, my lord.” Her fingers smoothed down his forearm, over ridged scars and sun kissed skin. She hooked her fingers between two of his large ones and pulled gently. The shadows played along his sculpted features, the face of an angel, but there was nothing holy about him.

  “I’ve heard the rumors, of you spending time with the prince,” he hissed, dragging a finger over her bottom lip.

  “Nothing happened,” she bit out. She swallowed thickly at the heat from his eyes scorching her flesh. Even as the beast she still craved him. “I promise.”

  He laughed darkly. “Because you know only I can satisfy you. No other man can make you wet and aroused with my presence.” He moved in closer, invading, and breathed against her cheek, his lips brushing the skin there.

  She turned her head, their mouths touching—so close, so close to succumbing to his wicked voice and she let her own breath tangle with his. “I have that same power over you.”

  A thigh-clenching snarl left his full mouth of sin and power, and he scooped her up. “Now that I caught you, I get to have you,” he growled, and before she could even catch her breath, he stole it and moved with ease to the cottage.

  Molly’s heart pounded against her ribcage. His lips felt the same, the same with his large hands kneading her backside, but it wasn’t him.

  With one arm, he held her against him and used his free one to slam open the weathered wood door.

  His arm swept anything left on an oak table to the cottage’s forest floor and he laid her down, settling in-between her open thighs.

  His dark eyes went to her throat and his hand slid up her collarbone, wrapping around her trembling neck. Molly’s collar tingled, buzzing from under his lethal touch.

  “You taunted me tonight. In that water, teasing me with your fingers, with your beautiful, sinful body. Do not taunt—” Tensley growled in pain, his back arching, immediately shielding her, an arm on either side of her head. The veins in his neck bulged and Molly noted the dagger stabbed in his shoulder.

  Molly stilled beneath him—and braced herself. She saw the flash of anger, the wrath in his dark eyes, but he turned, swinging his arm back at the prince.

  Chaos erupted in the tiny, dark cottage. The earth shook, the roars of the two beasts echoing against the thin walls. Tensley struck the prince’s chest with a heavy fist, but Molly noted how he slowed, how his arms grew weak and when Seto emerged from the darkness, the two men conquered him.

  “What did you do?” Molly asked, nervously, as the prince hauled Tensley’s weakening body to the corner. He dragged him to a worn down oak chair and began anchoring him in with thick chains. They clanked with each yank and pull.

  Seto yanked the dagger from Tensley’s shoulder and tossed it aside.

  “That sedative,” Saul said, lounging in a dark corner of the tiny cottage. He wore a cloak that the prince had provided him with that morning, as he had escorted the warlock to the cottage.

  Molly fixed her dress and stood, watching Tensley’s bowed head.

  “You bastards,” he wheezed as the sedative was weakening him.

  “Three bastards and your bitch,” the prince said, smirking, but Molly gave him a hard look. Tensley g
rowled in response. He swung his head back and struggled against the chains.

  “Is everything ready?” Molly glanced to Saul. “We have to hurry before someone finds out he’s missing.”

  Saul licked his cracked lips. A nervous tic Molly had noticed. He produced the book the prince had found and a small rock. “Here. For his heart. I’ve blessed it.”

  Molly took the rock, tensing its smoothness and the tiny ridges. She cupped it to her chest, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

  “Shall we begin?” the prince asked, stepping back, sliding a dagger into his hand. They had gone over the chant, over what was to be done, but her body still shook at the thought of what they were about to do. The prince moved forward to Tensley, but Molly stepped in his path.

  “Let me,” she told him, lifting her hand.

  He cocked a light brow, full of arrogance. “Are you sure? Don’t want you getting your delicate hands dirty with the king’s blood.”

  Seto nodded, standing next to the prince. “It may be too much for you, my lady.”

  She glowered at the prince’s condescending tone and shook her hand once. “Blood won’t stop me from saving him.”

  He hesitated, then sighed, dropping the dagger into her hand.

  She breathed in shakily, turning to face the fuming demon chained to the chair. She wondered if even the earth floor would hold him.

  Those dark, deadly eyes pierced into hers, a warning, a curse upon her as she stepped closer, the dagger by her side.

  “Whatever you think you’re capable of, think again, dolcezza,” he hissed lowly. “You stabbed me once before, remember?” And his words stabbed her deep within her own chest. Her heart shrinking with pain. Even if the man had forgotten her, the beast clearly hadn’t. She couldn’t blame him.

  And she was about to do it again. But this time, she wasn’t doing it because she was afraid, or because she hated him. She was doing it out of love. To save him.

  She wouldn’t, couldn’t, let the beast change her mind.

  Molly stopped in front of him, head leveled, heart in the middle of a war, and her breath harsh and wild.