by R. Scarlett
Lilith’s cheeks bloomed in fury. With a harsh breath, she bowed. “As you command, my lord.”
She turned on her heel and stomped to the door, shutting it behind her.
Tensley moved to the balcony, wiping a hand through his hair only to pull back and look at his bloody hands, splinters of wood embedded into his palms.
He gritted his teeth.
Two sides warred inside of him.
He wanted to destroy her—he wanted to protect her.
But both wanted her.
Craved her. Something far too holy for his bloody, tainted hands.
He curled his fists, the splinters digging deeper, the physical pain relieving the pain in his chest.
“Bring me my queen.”
COOL NOVEMBER RAIN dribbled over Molly’s black umbrella as she navigated out of her anthropology class. The leaves were brittle, clinging to the trees as autumn ended and she thought of Tensley’s fall into a heartless beast.
Like the dying leaves cascading down around her.
One month.
One month since his heart was ripped out and she was banished from the court.
One month closer to having their son.
She smiled at the thought of her son, the doctor saying he was strong and large for four and a half months, but that didn’t surprise her. His toes and fingers were well-defined and the doctor said he could even yawn now. Her chest felt heavy and warm at the thought. So nervous, so excited, so scared.
If Tensley were here…
She shook her head and moved forward to the little café. She saw Stella had plopped herself in a booth inside, nursing a steaming tea. When Stella’s brown eyes caught Molly, she straightened and waved her over.
Molly closed her umbrella and shook off the excess water.
“I got you herbal tea,” Stella announced and pushed a large cup toward her.
Molly sat down and stared at the dark, hot substance.
“I heard it’s better for the baby,” Stella added and sipped at her own cup. “So how is my little guy?”
Molly smiled. “He’s a night hawk. He keeps me up, but the doctor said that’s normal.” Molly flipped over a menu and clasped her mouth shut to prevent drool rolling down her chin. “And he’s constantly hungry. I can’t stop eating.”
“Well, if he’s anything like his daddy, he’s gonna be a big boy,” Stella said, flipping her red locks over her shoulder. Stella paused and leaned forward. “Have you seen him yet?”
Molly cupped her drink and stared at her hands. “No.” The hotness warmed her hands, a soothing calm compared to the cool bite of November. “Maybe it’s best—for the baby and me to stay away. I don’t need more stress in my life right now.” She bit her lip. As much as she believed that, she missed him terribly. At night, she woke up crying his name. At doctor’s appointments, she wished he were there to see the ultrasound or to hear the baby’s heartbeat. “But Illya’s been there. He comes with me to doctor appointments, he stays at the apartment and he’s just there. That’s all I need right now.”
She smiled softly at the thought of Illya. He had taken on a father’s role right away. He cleaned the house, he bought groceries, he made sure she got to school okay, and when in the middle of the night she woke up crying, he was there until she fell asleep.
She knew he felt a strong loyalty to Tensley and as much as she and he were good friends, she knew he was doing it all for his best friend.
She caught glimpses of him staring out the large bay window that faced Central Park and she knew he was grieving too.
He had lost his best friend, his brother, and he felt it was his responsibility, like a dying wish, to protect and provide for her.
Illya and her—needed each other most right now, and with focusing entirely on the baby, they could escape their heartbreak. From being banned from High Court, she was scared she’d only endanger the baby by trying to go. If something happened to her, if she was imprisoned…
She shook her head, ridding herself of those thoughts.
Stella cleared her throat and Molly jolted out of her thoughts. “And your parents?”
Molly laughed. “My mom is planning this huge baby shower and she comes over everyday with farmer’s market goods.” She swallowed, rubbing her hand on her belly. “They do want me to move back in with them. They don’t want me to do this by myself, but I think I’d rather stay in the apartment.”
“I mean, maybe it’ll be good for all of you?” Stella shrugged, twisting her features into an unsure frown.
Molly looked out the window at the busy avenue and the falling leaves. She didn’t want to say it out loud. It would sound too naïve, too childish and hopeful.
She dreamed that if she stayed in the apartment—one day, maybe one day Tensley would walk in and everything would be back to normal.
He’d say dolcezza and kiss her.
One day.
Molly blinked back tears and smiled at Stella whose brows wrinkled. “Now tell me. What’s going on with you and Illya?”
Stella pursed her lips and looked down at her tea. “Nothing.”
Molly hummed.
Stella glared at her. “Look, I wish something was going on, but he’s as dense as—” She blew out a breath. “I think he’s still hung up on September.”
Molly frowned. “I don’t know, Stella. He is going through a lot right now.”
“I know.” She sighed and pressed a finger to her temple. “I just want him to know he can count on me. Lean on me. I’m not delicate, I’m not breakable.” She shook her head and Molly went to say more, but Stella leaned forward and smiled. “Now, show me those photos of my nephew.”
Molly grinned and didn’t pry into Stella’s life anymore before pulling out the black and white ultrasound picture from her purse.
“Oh my god! Look at him!” Stella gripped the ultrasound and gushed, looking at it from different angles. “I can’t believe he’s inside of you right now.”
Molly pressed a hand to her abdomen and breathed through her nose. “Believe me, I for one cannot forget he’s in there.”
Both girls laughed at that.
The next hour flew by and the conversation became lighter, more carefree and lighthearted and it was everything Molly needed.
September sent a text as Molly walked home that she’d stop by tomorrow—she basically lived at the apartment too.
Molly entered the glamorous apartment building, waving at the doorman and walked up to her apartment.
As soon as she shut the door, she went to the master bedroom and grabbed one of Tensley’s dress shirts. She removed her clothes in the bathroom and slipped the shirt on. His thick scent washed over her and she smoothed it down, ending just below her knees. A bad habit now, one she refused to kick. It comforted her at night to smell his scent around her.
She froze and glanced over her shoulder at the bathroom door. “Illya?”
Only silence replied.
Her heart pounded in her chest all the way to her eardrums, a constant reminder of fear, of being in danger.
She sensed it strongly.
She wasn’t alone.
She clenched her teeth and moved slowly to the bathroom door, her hand reaching out. As it touched the crown molding of the door, her heart spiked wildly and she pushed it open.
A tall dark figure stood in the darkness of the master bedroom, his back to the large window.
Her mouth went bone dry and on a gasp, she said: “Tensley?”
THE DARK FIGURE turned. The scruff on his jaw glistened in the low lighting and the familiar brown eyes found hers. What she saw in his own hand was a teddy bear Illya had given her. A toy for her son.
“No, my lady,” the prince spoke, fully facing her.
Her heart sank, but she made sure he didn’t see any trace of it in her features. “Why are you here?”
The prince took a single step forward and stopped, his eyes dropping to her stomach.
A tiny bump now sat there. She hadn�
�t told anyone outside of her inner circle and had yet to tell Scorpios, but she was sure if they knew, they’d find a way to spin the fact to their advantage, saying they didn’t need a pregnant, hormonal, woman leading them through a war.
They needed a warrior.
Any business between Scorpios was between members only. September and Stella barely knew an inch of what was going on behind the scenes.
“Molly,” the prince began, his eyes leaving her stomach and they held a softness, along with exhaustion. “Are you well?”
Molly watched him closely and after a long moment, sighed and nodded. “I’m fine, but why are you here?” She fisted her hands. “Is it Tensley? Is he all right?”
The prince tilted his head to the side, but when he didn’t reject the thought, her heart pounded fast. “His health is declining, but the court is unaware of how severe the situation is.”
She swallowed and gawked at his weathered, scarred hands.
“He refuses to allow another woman’s touch upon his skin—he refuses to discuss the war inside of him,” he said, lowly and she bit the inside of her cheek. “He summons you.”
Molly scowled and tossed her purse onto the bed. “Summons me? I was banished by Lilith.”
“The king,” the prince said and it still gave Molly shivers to hear her Tensley called a king. “Has revoked it. He summons you—on conditions.”
“What conditions?”
The prince folded his arms and gave her a long look. “That is something he must discuss with you.”
“And if I refuse?” She didn’t know if she could. If Tensley’s health was declining, if he was ill, she wouldn’t let him die. She’d save the beast if it meant saving the man.
The prince’s lips became a straight line and his brows dropped low. “I fear the beast will go mad without you near. He already has.”
Molly looked away to the dark master bed, the sheets pulled tight and properly. Maybe this was a second chance. A chance so Tensley could come home one day and they could be a family together.
She swung her eyes back to the prince. “Take me to him.”
He stood still for a moment and then moved, grabbing a cloak he had lain on his arm and draped it across her shoulders.
The fabric was heavy, a burden on her, but she raised her chin and stared back at him.
“I would warn you to tread carefully,” he whispered, a warning to his hard voice. “But you are the one who can control him.” Her chest rose fast and hard. “You’re the only one who can tame him. You tame the beast; you’re the beast’s keeper. A title you hold in court now.”
She felt the rush of power, the fear and rage storm in her veins and heart, and she gritted her teeth. She’d tame him, she’d conquer him, and save him.
Molly went to her side table and quickly sprawled a note for Illya. That she’d be back soon and she was safe.
She took a shaky breath and turned to face the prince. “Take me now,” she said, lowly.
He nodded and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. With a skilled hand, he yanked the same dagger he once used to take them to high court months ago, and sliced through the air, a foreign chant burning her ears.
Then the fibers of the air burnt and broke open, revealing the dark hallway of High Court.
She swallowed thickly and with fear nipping at her heels, moved forward through the void and into the heart of darkness.
The air crackled around them, the prince following after her and with a flick of his wrist, the passage closed, disappearing as if it was never there.
The hallway was decorated in its signature white and black herringbone floor with crystal chandeliers that glistened, reflecting off of every surface the light caught.
In the darkness, he guided her to the bedchamber. A month didn’t erase the painful ache in her chest or the bitter taste in her mouth of High Court.
As they neared the black wood double doors, her heart was in her throat, choking her. She didn’t know how he would be. Would he be ill? Would he be in bed?
Angry?
Happy?
The prince knocked three times with his knuckles and glanced down at her.
“As I said,” he told her and touched her shoulder. “You are the beast’s tamer.”
She didn’t respond; her throat was too tight, too dry and she watched as he stepped back.
“Come in,” a harsh voice spoke beyond the door and her entire body seized in fear.
She couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine to the tips of her toes that curled.
Her body still reacted to him nonetheless.
With a deep breath, she steeled herself and grabbed the golden handle, opening the door to find the beast.
He sat on an upholstered chair of gold trim and fur, both of his thick legs spread wide open in a pose of power and authority, but she could see from here how pale he was.
How the sweat pooled on his brow and his chest warred violently.
His nostrils flared and those dark, lethal eyes clung to her.
She watched his fingers dig into the gold trim of the chair and the veins in his hands bulge, a hidden rage just below the surface.
“My lord,” she muttered, a whisper of acknowledgment. Her voice shook slightly, but she was able to swallow down her fear.
It was the exact reaction he hoped for.
His upper lip curled in anger and his fingers curled into iron fists on his throne.
The beast wanted submission, but she knew with that tiny fraction of a heart beating somewhere deep within him, the man craved his own name on her lips.
The beast was in fact at war with the man, as the prince had said.
A war on himself.
A demon fighting a heart.
“You summoned me?” She glanced at the glamorous bedchamber dressed in heavy red-wine curtains and a large enough bed to fit multiple people.
She stopped herself from going any further.
“Yes,” he bit out like it pained him to speak. She watched his chest fall and rise rapidly.
Then she wondered—was she the violent cause to him?
Tensley pushed himself up onto his feet, sturdy, but she saw the slight waver in his step as he moved toward her.
She braced herself, desperately wanting to retreat. She wasn’t backing down though. She stood her ground, her head held high.
As he neared, his toxic scent invaded her and she peeked up through her lashes at him.
So near, so close, she saw the sharp edge of his jawbone waver under his tight clench. She breathed shakily out as his long fingers found the tips of her hood and pulled it down, her blonde ringlets cascading freely down the black cloak.
Being this close to him was a deadly game, a lethal intoxicating hum that settled in her chest, in her head, and in her bones.
She was trapped in a love affair of distortion.
With courage, she met his dark eyes, the shadows playing across his features to create a sinful beauty. She searched for a glimpse, a glimmer of hope that perhaps the man was there.
But she wasn’t sure what she saw.
His brow bent and shook, his lips a thin line of annoyance, and his cheeks hollowed out.
It was when two fingers stroked down her neck, down the tender jugular convulsing wildly under his touch, her collar tightening around her lower throat, that she came undone for a moment. A gasp left her lips and heat bloomed in her cheeks.
His two fingers bent back the edge of her cloak and his eyes narrowed at the sight of his dress shirt.
“You’re lathered in my scent,” he spoke lowly, his husky voice going straight to her core. “The entire court will smell me on you.”
He stared at her collarbone, the white fabric hiding where her heart beat like a war drum for him. She knew he could hear it by the way he couldn’t look away.
She twisted her head to the side, and she felt his eyes drag up her neck to her side profile.
He watched her like this, her cheeks heating und
er him.
Finally, he turned and she watched him move to the center of the room. He ran a hand through his disheveled dark locks and swore under his breath.
He glanced back at her, his upper lip curling. “You cursed me.”
She blinked, taken aback. She cleared her throat and took a step closer. “Yes, I did. To save you.”
He fisted his hands. “To save me?” He laughed darkly at that and tsked. “Making me obsess over your glossy hair, over the tremble in that thick bottom lip I want to bite—” He gestured wildly to her and she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “The damn heart that beats like a war cry to me every single second. That every single woman disgusts me. That I fucking crave you beside me at all times.”
She swallowed thickly, her mind racing, unable to speak, unsure what to say back to him.
“That any male that mentions your name, utters it—makes me want to snap their necks,” he hissed out and stepped closer and closer until he stood right in front of her towering over her petite frame. “I’m going to destroy you.”
She looked up at him, not shying way, not hiding, and glared. “Then destroy me.”
He stared her down, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenched it. His eyes scanned her. “You left.”
She frowned. “Left?” She shook her head. “Your court banished me when I cursed you.” She swore for a moment she saw his features soften, but it was soon replaced with a scowl. “I didn’t want to leave,” she whispered.
He watched her, his mouth an angry straight line. He ran his fingers through his hair and paced, but he stopped and faced her. He glowered. “Touch me.”
Her brows shot up. “What?”
Without clarifying, he grabbed her hand and simply held it. His tanned, powerful hand slotted with her porcelain one.
One single touch. That was all he needed and she saw the bloom return to his cheeks, his muscles ripple as he flexed his arms and rolled his shoulders.
She felt his thumb stroke the back of her hand and she almost burst into tears.
