by R. Scarlett
“I’m more than capable of cursing you,” Molly warned, and she noted the flare in his eyes. She ignored it, ignored the pain she felt at the thought of hurting Tensley once more, beast or not, and ripped his dress shirt open, exposing his chest of scars and muscles.
“Start,” the prince ordered Saul.
Saul began to chant in a language she didn’t understand and Tensley glared at the warlock.
“What the fuck is he doing?” he growled viciously, the sound not as powerful as it would have been, had he not been sedated.
Molly placed the stone on the floor beside her and steadied the dagger in her other hand. When she placed it against where his heart should have been, tracing the freshly healed wound of Fallen’s hand puncturing his chest, Tensley turned to steel.
And lighting flashed through his eyes.
At last, he understood why they were all gathered there.
What they intended to do.
“If you wish to keep your hand, back down,” Tensley barked, his voice holding so much violence, her body almost did as he asked out of fear.
But didn’t.
She had to be strong.
For him.
For their son.
She had to be strong.
“Stay still,” she warned, gripping his shoulder, but it didn’t help much.
He twisted against the chains, trying to free himself.
The chanting grew louder.
“He’s too strong,” Seto snapped.
The prince swore and both he and Seto rushed behind the chair, gripping Tensley’s bound wrists. “Be quick.”
They were playing with death, and she knew the consequences.
Molly took a deep, even breath and looked into his dark eyes.
“I love you.”
And then she pierced his chest.
HE HISSED IN pain, his entire frame shaking as she sliced deeper and deeper and deeper. Oh god! The warm blood coated her fingertips, running down her wrists. She wiggled the dagger, creating enough space and patted the floor beside her, scrambling to find the stone.
She paused—the heavy leather handle weighing on her wrist, the heavy weight of guilt over stabbing the love of her life, flashing back to that dreadful day.
Months before to the day she stabbed him in the back to save both of them, to save her from tying herself to the demon.
Yet, she ended up tying herself to the man she loved.
The man she ended up losing.
Hatred swam in her veins and her stomach dropped.
Here she was yet again with a dagger deep within Tensley’s chest.
No.
She shook her head. She needed to do this to save him. She was hurting him because she loved him enough.
She grabbed the stone and removed the dagger, shoving the stone where his heart would be.
“How can you do this to me?” Tensley spat, his face pure red, the veins in his neck bulging.
All Molly heard was the chanting of a foreign language and her blood rushing to her head, and then another beat.
A heart beat.
The hole in Tensley’s chest glowed darkness and she saw his veins protruding and vibrating in his chest and forearms.
Tensley roared, his head thrown back, his throat constricting, his hands turning white as he gripped the arms of the chair.
The mere image of him in utter pain nearly brought her to her knees and she pressed a hand to his forearm. She knew what strength boiled beneath his skin. One so holy and vicious.
His jaw snapped and he tried to lunge, but the chains held him.
Saul chanted, louder and louder, and Tensley growled, his body recoiling, twisting in pain and horror.
It wasn’t natural.
His skin turned a bright red, the anger, the blood all rushing to his head. He spat, he fumed, and swore over and over.
“You can’t tame me,” he growled, his stormy eyes drilling deep into hers.
“It’s a curse,” Molly whispered and his dark brows dropped lower in a scowl. “A curse of the heart.”
His nose wrinkled and he bared his teeth, but before he could roar again, he seized in pain and doubled over.
A heartbreaking noise left his lips and she clenched her chest. “What’s happening?”
“The heart’s growing,” the prince said, circling around Tensley, examining him. “His body’s trying to reject it, but the chant is too strong.”
Seto still held Tensley’s shoulders, keeping him in place with a frown of determination.
Tensley cried out, thrashing against the chains, his body arching from the chair but to no avail to get free. He became wild, like an animal, biting the air, growling. His beast fully awake, fully fighting the heart growing inside.
The chair itself groaned under the strength, under the impact of his body shaking in pain and rage.
The chanting grew. Vicious and violent and only targeted the pain to grow in Tensley’s body.
He was trying to reject the heart.
The chair shook, Tensley’s chest heaved aggressively, and a strangled cry echoed into the room.
Molly bit the inside of her mouth and held a hand to her lips. When she went to touch him, he thrashed even more and snarled at her.
“Don’t touch him, he’s unpredictable,” the prince warned.
Molly glanced back at Saul; transfixed by his chant, his eyes focused on the page and his hands shaking as he held the book. Like a man possessed.
“How much longer?”
The prince snorted. “It’s only just begun.”
Molly pressed a fist to her temple and turned back to the shaking demon.
“You want him back, then deal with his pain,” the prince said, folding his arms and leaning against the table.
Molly glared at him and sat down beside Tensley, her hands smoothing along his forearms. He jerked, trying to escape her touch, but he had nowhere to go.
“Shush, it’s okay,” she murmured, hating how her voice shook.
Tensley bared his teeth at her and thrashed.
She swept a finger along the sweat gathering atop of his furrowed brow and kissed his flexing hand. “Come back to me,” she said, a few tears escaping from the corners of her eyes. “Come back to our son, Tensley. Come back to us.”
The demon revolted against her touch, against her words, and spat.
Blood boiled from his lips and her heart clenched. The redness poured down his full quivering lips and onto his thighs.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice littered with panic.
The prince rushed over and lifted Tensley’s weak head. “His body is rejecting it, it’s pulsing inside of him, trying to latch on, but it’s foreign and his body is trying to destroy it.” Molly glanced up at the prince’s sober face. “And it’s destroying him along with it.”
Molly blinked back the warmth and gripped Tensley’s raging hot cheeks. “No,” she screamed. “No, no. This can’t be happening.” She gasped out in pure fear and pain, her thudding heart frantic. “Tensley,” she screamed again, shaking him. But no answer came.
Tensley’s body went stiff and Molly felt his chest still. Her hands shook.
“Tensley,” she whispered, tears choking her. “He’s not breathing.”
The prince bowed his head and kissed his thumb, a symbol of blessing the dead.
Molly gasped out in a cry and ran her fingers along his flushed cheeks, feeling the rough stubble, the softness of his lips—
“Molly,” those lips murmured.
Molly froze.
Those eyes flickered open, growing to a stormy grey—so familiar, she couldn’t speak.
Those eyes swung to her and through bloody lips, he spoke for what seemed like ages since she last heard his husky, dark tone. “Molly…”
“Tensley,” she gasped again in shock, her fingers spreading across his cheeks, moving closer. “Tensley, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” The tears spilled down her face and she pressed a kiss to his
lips, not caring about the blood.
He looked weak, so dazed as his eyes drunk her in. “Dolcezza.”
She choked on a cry and spread her hands across his chest, feeling the weak beat of his new heart. So faint, the gods wouldn’t hear it.
He licked at a tear on her cheek and she shuddered in delight and comfort.
“Dolcezza,” he again hushed, that Italian hum to his addictive voice.
She combed her fingers through his hair and kissed his half-shut eyelids, his black lashes so dark against his olive cheeks.
“Don’t leave me,” she hushed back.
“Dolcezza,” his voice grew weaker.
She felt his head give, and she sat back, gawking at his closed eyes. Frantically, she pressed a hand to his chest, the hole still open and bleeding. No beat. Nothing, but an empty chest.
He coughed, more blood pouring out.
“No, no, no!” She gripped his face and tried to arouse him from his slumber, but nothing worked. “It’s too much for him; he’s going to die!”
The chanting thundered in her ears.
She swung onto her feet and stared at Saul. A haunting smile laced his cracked lips and without a second thought, she felt the familiar icy sensation behind her eyes.
Molly marched toward him and with a death grip around his throat, smashed it.
The chanting stopped. Saul blubbered, blood seeping out of his mouth as he collapsed onto the floor.
“Your freedom,” the prince stated, standing above a dying warlock.
Tensley sagged in his chair, the chains the only thing holding him up and Molly began untying him.
“He’s too weak,” Seto whispered and began unchaining his arms.
“We need to get him back to the palace,” Molly said, untying his wrists. At the sight of the tender welts on his wrists, she bit back a cry.
“They’ll kill you, Molly,” the prince said. “You threatened their king.”
Molly shook her head and untied his other wrist. “I don’t care. He’s—he’s dying.”
The prince swore under his breath and she heard his riding boots thud against the ground, stomping toward her. He bent down and began untying Tensley’s ankles. “I can only protect you so much.”
“They can’t hurt me,” Molly hissed, yanking his other ankle free. “They already took what mattered most to me. And I’m going to get that back.”
The prince stilled and when she looked up, he was staring intently back at her. “They said daemons were rare, but I think they mistook it. You are entirely rare.”
She swallowed thickly and lowered her gaze, her heart full of flames and embers, but they simply burnt through her bones and strength.
She wrapped an arm under Tensley’s and lifted him, the prince gathering his other side. Seto followed after.
And with a heavy heart, she carried him back to the palace.
THE WARLOCKS CURSED at Molly in a heavy foreign tongue as they rushed around Tensley’s bed.
Huddled in blankets of the finest silk and furs, the warlocks worked their herbs to ease the fever that had taken his body.
She knew the moment they put two and two together at the sight of his cut chest, the wound deep and exactly where his heart once was.
One gasped and glared back at her.
“You cursed our king,” another hissed.
Once the fever had gone down, the warlocks left in their golden robes and Molly moved closer to his bedside.
She gripped his limp hand and kissed it.
The curse had worked, but only by a sliver. A sliver of a heart now beat weakly, tenderly in the steel and iron beast.
All night she stayed by his side, never letting sleep win, and patting down the sweat on his forehead and chest.
When he groaned or sighed, she was there, checking his pulse, soothing him, loving him, even when he didn’t know it.
As the sun rose, streams of precious sunlight filtered in through the lace curtains and pooled them in warmth.
“I’m right here,” she whispered again, words she had chanted to him the entire night.
The doors slammed open and she sat up, turning to see a guard and the prince.
“My lady,” the prince said, bowing to her. “Lady Lilith summons you to court.”
Molly frowned and tightened her hand around Tensley’s. “She knows.”
The prince sighed and nodded. “Yes, the entire court has heard of what happened to their king. She wishes to discuss it.”
Molly swallowed and turned back to Tensley, her fingers sweeping across his creased forehead and into his dark mane. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and bit back a cry. “I love you,” she whispered to him, savoring his warmth against her and stood.
“Let’s go,” she told the prince and moved past him with confidence.
She’d go to war to protect the tiny sliver of Tensley’s heart. She’d bleed for him, and she wouldn’t let a rotten queen control either of them.
She was the daemon, and she would crush anyone who threatened them.
THE COURT WAS in a fury of rage as Molly and the prince passed through the doors into the throne room. The room was furnished with white drapes and a white marble floor, so clear, so clean she could see her own reflection perfectly as she moved into the room. A fake mask of purity.
Words of venom spat between the council and bounced off of the cathedral ceilings, fingers jabbed in the air, confusion and anger filling each space of the room.
Molly took a deep breath and steeled herself.
At the mere sight of her, every single member quieted and watched as she approached the thrones.
An empty one, and one filled with the queen of snakes.
“So the daemon has the confidence to show her face,” Lilith spat, leaning forward from her throne of gold and bone.
Molly didn’t lower her eyes as she stopped in front of the thrones. Instead, she held Lilith’s cold stare, and that made the queen snarl.
“You summoned me, Lady Lilith?” Molly’s gaze cut to the council on either side of the thrones, watching her with so much interest.
“Address me as your Queen,” she hissed, her skin so tight against her angular face structure, she seemed hollow. Possibly even more hollow on the inside though.
Molly’s lips twisted ruefully. “You summoned me,” she repeated, slowly, not giving into Lilith’s pitiful demands.
Lilith’s nostrils flared and her long, manicured nails of red tapped impatiently against the gold trim of her throne. Over a lion head roaring in victory. “You have endangered our king, threatened to curse him.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and shook her head. “Cursing him from a forbidden book. A curse so deadly, even Fallen never dared to use it against his enemies.”
Molly pinched her palm, breathing evenly through her nose.
“You betrayed your king, your court. An act of treason,” she said. “The court has come to an agreement.”
Molly glanced at the sour faces of the council; their disapproving frowns, their ugly sneers, and switched her attention back to Lilith.
“Execution.”
That single word caused a war of shivers down Molly’s spine and she straightened.
The room burst into vicious whispers around her, and she eyed the prince’s wild gaze.
“You’d kill me,” Molly spoke, her voice soft, but capable of silencing the room. “The only daemon known to you?”
Lilith raised her chin, glaring down at her. “I am tired of that excuse. My late husband may have seen value in you, but I only see a hideous, dangerous whore hell-bent on destroying my people and my court.”
Molly’s confidence wilted inside of her, but she gritted her teeth, not allowing anyone in the court to see her fear, to see her trembling inside.
Like a sharp dagger, Lilith grinned. “Until the king awakes from his slumber, I am in charge of this court. You were a mere pawn, never the queen. You have no right to govern over my kingdom, you daemon whore.”
�
�You can’t make that decision,” Molly fought, letting the icy sensation expand into her eyes and a vicious glow began.
Lilith swung her arm, a whip of gold clenched in her hand and slashed it across Molly’s cheek.
The white-hot pain stung her cheek and she stumbled, grasping the side of her face. Her eyes watered, one squeezed shut.
“Do not question my power,” Lilith warned and repositioned herself on her throne, wrapping the gold whip around her arm.
“My Queen,” the prince’s voice echoed like water to a dying man, and Molly half-faced him, her hand dropping to display the ugly red lash across her skin. “As much as the daemon threatened our king, she is important.”
Lilith pursed her ruby red lips, but she, for once, stayed silent as her son approached the throne.
“She carries the heir, the son of our king,” the prince continued, a voice of calm and power. “We’d be therefore not only executing his wife, but also his unborn son. A son filled with the king’s blood and bone.”
The court stilled.
Molly could feel their torment. They were debating. Killing her would be like killing their king, especially when she held his child in her womb.
Her hand went to her stomach and she raised her head, catching Lilith’s hard stare.
The prince had found a loophole.
A way to protect her and their son.
“May I suggest an alternative?”
Lilith cocked her brow at her son and again, tapped her fingers on the throne. Tap, tap, tap. A constant jab to Molly’s chest.
Lilith’s fingers stopped and she didn’t speak but glared at her son. That apparently was an answer of yes.
“Banishment from the High Court,” the prince said.
Molly’s heart squeezed.
Tensley needed her. Tensley needed someone to protect him, someone to bring him back. If they banished her, she wouldn’t be able to see him.
Her eyes darted to Lilith. A finger ran along her bottom lip, her face pinched in deep thought. Judging by the small, cruel smile growing at the corners of her lips, she was no doubt wondering about all the things she could do with the king whilst his wife, his source of power, was banished from their court.
After a beat, she snapped her fingers. “Very well. I hereby declare that Molly Knight is now banished from setting foot in High Court.”
