by R. Scarlett
His voice rang through the hall, leaving everyone in silence as his body shuddered with pure anger.
Lilith breathed through her nose and stepped back, finally seeing her place in his court. She was no queen, she was nothing to him, but a piece on an ancient chessboard left unused.
Tensley took a deep breath before he turned to face Molly. She had her head slightly bowed, but her eyes peeked at him through her thick lashes. Curious, a bit cautious, but calculating.
“There is only one queen in my life,” he whispered, only for her ears, his voice shaking slightly. It surprised him, the sheer emotion the words contained. They hadn’t been harsh, aggressive, demanding. If anything, they had been soft… caring, almost. He hadn’t heard himself speak with such emotion in a long while. For months, it had only been anger. He cleared his throat and straightened to his full, powerful height. He watched her examine him—and he knew, somehow deep in his belly, deep in his chest, she could see his weakness. She could sense his ill state and her brows furrowed further. She didn’t say it aloud, but she took a small step forward, closing the distance.
He breathed her in—her scent of sunlight and tulips and a sweetness that could never be bottled, and he felt his groin ache with need. No woman had this much control over him. It both frightened, enraged, and thrilled him.
Instead of gripping her hips and slamming her into his frame, he lifted his arm, awaiting for her hand to slide into the bend of his elbow.
She lowered her eyes and gently guided her delicate hand to rest on his arm. The single touch of her warm palm heating through the fabric of his shirt drove him wild.
He caught the pinched look on the prince’s face, his eyes focused on Molly.
Tensley turned, Molly’s steps matching each of his. The double doors of gold appeared as a sign of freedom and entrapment all at once.
The sound of trumpets blared and the noise of voices chattering followed after.
The doors swung open and all of the court turned to face them. He challenged each stare, each glare at his wife and he felt her shift closer to his side. His beast roared with pride.
The throne down the middle of the aisle glimmered under the chandeliers of crystals and with each step closer they took, Molly’s hand grew tighter around his bicep.
The crowd hushed on either side of them, unable to look away from the sight of the king and his wife. A power wielded between them so deathly, so lethal, gods would die under their wrath. This was a king showing to a court full of corrupted wolves who he had chosen as his queen, their queen. Who held the power with him. Beside him.
Together.
He felt it in his bones, he felt in his veins as he marched forward. Her touch, her presence beside him fueled his strength.
As they neared the alter, all he heard in the room—in the palace, was her heart beating fast, hidden underneath her gown, hidden beneath her ribcage and nestled deep inside. Her shallow breaths sung to his ears and he turned to face the crowd, his head held high in authority.
His knees shook, but he didn’t sit. He needed intimacy, he needed strength, but he wouldn’t force himself on Molly. He’d survive through this until she wanted him as much as it fucking pained him.
Lilith and the prince proceeded down the aisle, joining the crowd at the front.
A lord stepped forward holding a sharp blade, sliding off a silk black cloth and bowed.
“My lord,” the man spoke and Tensley took his time, his hand reaching down and gripping the blade, the edge cutting into his palm. An ancient blade from Fallen’s father’s ribcage. Said to be filled with a venom, with power, and his undying rage.
For the future king to soak in that venom.
He stood to his full height and faced the silent crowd. He undid the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing his chest, scars of the past and the recent ugly jagged scar across where his heart beat.
He thought of the legend of Fallen—of after he killed his own father and his brothers to take the throne, how he took the bone of his father’s ribcage and sliced his own chest open. To show no fear of death, no fear of destruction, but to thrive in the bloodshed, the war outside and within one’s self and to show his people his ability to conquer.
How the dismantled court of misfits and bloodthirsty thieves bowed to their king, chanting, humming a hymn of power and divine.
To crown a beast.
To crown a beast.
To crown a beast.
That same hymn the court now chanted lowly in unison and he felt the power rattle his bones.
To show the court no heartbeat inside of him, but Tensley felt the pounding of his own heart.
If the court saw his heart pounding, they wouldn’t be pleased.
“With this blade of bone, I bleed for my court, my crown, my people,” he spoke, voice composed as he took the vicious blade and dragged the sharp edge to his chest and sliced a line above his heart. The blood ran in thick, dark lines down his tanned skin and he smeared the redness along his thumb and pressed it to his mouth next, then smeared it across his forehead. “I vow to conquer armies and destroy kingdoms, all in the name of High Court. To savor victories and cherish losses. To devour traitors and to curse liars. I vow as the king to let the wrath guide my path.”
A crown of glimmering gold sat on a white cushion and one of the lords walked forward, bending in front of Molly.
Molly’s hands dropped and she glanced at Tensley. He nodded for her to go ahead.
She swallowed, gently lifting the crown off of the cushion and moved closer.
Tensley sucked in a harsh breath as her front touched his, her arms on either side of his head and she raised to her tiptoes to place the crown on his head.
He straightened his posture and couldn’t look away from her. Her vivid eyes, soft and wide, took him in and he tasted her desire on his tongue.
“The king of beasts! The king of beasts! The king of beasts!” The court chanted, but all he saw was her rosy cheeks and those full lips beckoning to taste and that lion-heart battling inside of her.
They had crowned a new king. A king half of the court despised.
His eye’s sought the prince, finding him scowling as if it was hard for him to be present at Tensley's crowning but nonetheless stayed. Controlled. Unmoving but watching closely. Tensley held everything the prince wanted.
Tensley placed Molly’s hand back on his arm and he guided them from the throne room, the court following after. Too loud, too crowded.
He felt the wave of exhaustion, the shakiness begin in his bones. Now was not the time to be weak. Not when the entire court eyed his movements, his words, and breaths.
TIME PASSED SLOWLY as he sat on a throne, food overwhelming the long table in front of them. He felt the weakness consuming him and he struggled to keep his back straight. Molly sat stiffly beside him and from time to time he felt her eyes watching him.
He needed a cold bath to shock his system or to lie down in his chambers. He wanted to lie with Molly, but the entire feast she hadn’t seemed as open as she had before. He glanced up, catching Seto’s stare as he stood by the entrance.
He stood, ignoring Molly’s heated stare on his back and met Seto by the hallway.
Tensley paused by his side. “Take Molly back.”
Seto looked at him, his jaw clenching, but nodded.
Tensley marched back to his chambers, his own legs giving out, relying on the walls to help him manage to stay upright.
A hot dizzy spell took over him and he saw black dots filter his vision. His chest ached, it burned as if a flame sat upon his heart, endlessly burning for the one thing a beast shouldn’t want.
Tensley threw open his chamber doors and gripped the bedpost. He tore open his sweat-stained shirt and tried to get to the bathroom, but ended up sitting down onto the bed.
He huffed, his chest a brutal heave of exhaustion and pain. “Fucking focus,” he hissed to himself. He tried to think of Molly—of Molly’s soft voice, of her full lips and
those vivid, powerful eyes.
He thought of her sweet scent, of her blonde curls he wanted to run his fingers in and never let go.
He thought of her vicious heart.
A heart that once was his.
Oh, how he fucking wanted to claim that heart again.
He dug his fingers into his knees, thriving off another point of pain instead of the one burdening his chest.
“Tensley,” that aching sweet voice called to him and in his haze, he groaned, looking up to find her standing at his doorway.
He tried to stand, but when he wavered, she jolted forward.
He raised a shaking hand. “Don’t.”
She paused, her hand retreating back to her chest. She stared at him, at his trembling form, at the sweat dripping off of him.
“You’re in pain,” she whispered.
“Because of this,” he hissed, jabbing to his chest. “It aches for you. It burns for you.”
Molly bit her bottom lip and that did nothing to keep Tensley strong. She seemed to be thinking over something, something that struggled within her. “Let me help you.”
Tensley shook his head. “No.”
Molly frowned and took another step closer. “You need me, Tensley. Just as much as I need you.”
Tensley clenched his jaw and gripped the bedpost, his chest heaving. He regarded her, tracing her delicate features. “I’m too weak, dolcezza. If you touch me…if I touch you,” he breathed, even saying it aloud testing his strength. “I won’t be able to stop.”
A dark glint flashed in her vivid eyes and she destroyed any space between them, her fingertips smoothing across his cheekbone. She breathed onto his parted mouth. “Then don’t.”
That was all it took.
TENSLEY’S STRONG HANDS gripped her hips and yanked her into his powerful frame.
His mouth found hers and the mere taste of his toxic tongue warmed her belly. Each kiss, she felt his trembling lessen and the strength grow wild in him. She smoothed her hands down his face and to his chest, pressing there, feeling his heart pound against her palm.
His hands slipped off her chin and when they grabbed a handful of her round derriere, she groaned achingly into his mouth.
He nipped, sucked and devoured her lips and he couldn’t stop. She didn’t want him to. She couldn’t let him slip away. She’d be his strength, she’d be his power, if only he didn’t stop.
He pulled her down on top of him as he landed on his back, his hands ripping the back of her dress so the loose fabric rolled off her shoulders. She felt his hardness against her thigh.
He yanked the front of her dress down with his teeth, exposing her heavy breasts. He paused and carefully, smoothing his large hands around each breast. She bit back a moan and dropped her head low.
“Beautiful,” she heard him whisper and before she could say a word, his mouth caught one of them and he sucked.
She pressed her nails into his chest, laying half her body on top of him as he switched to the other one.
She squeezed her hand between her round belly and found his hardening length hidden in his trousers. He tensed, only to nip at her nipple.
Just as she undid his belt, he sat up, flipping her so she lay on her back. He stood at the edge of the bed and watched her, his eyes pitch-black with lust and power.
“I can’t seem to shake you, no matter how hard I fucking try,” he hissed, panting in-between. She saw the simple encounter between them had almost instantly given him a shot of power. His muscles flexed with lethal strength and the stiffness in his once trembling mouth was gone. With only one kiss, she had created a god of pleasure and power.
She didn’t care how dangerous he was or how every touch she gave him could potentially be used against her.
She trusted him.
She trusted the man.
And even though the beast had said things about her she wouldn’t forget so easily, she knew, deep down, that she could trust him too.
He lowered himself to his knees in front of her, the sight of a beast lowering for her, for his wife, for his queen, sent a burning sensation through her belly. Desire pooled. Heat consumed her. His calloused hands pushed the fabric of her dress up her legs, his fingers skimming her upper thighs. She shivered, biting her lip to stop a groan from escaping.
When she felt her lower region exposed and his fingers brushing across her tender folds, she couldn’t hold the groan inside.
It had been a while for the both of them.
But they were about to change that.
It was when he licked up her length, up, up, up, with deliberate slowness, and teased the pearl where her desire pulsed wildly, that she completely lost herself.
“Oh—Tensley,” she gasped out, withering on the bed, her fingers running through his thick hair.
He devoured her—worshiping her body in a way so feral, so pure, so wicked and beautiful.
Her orgasm was quick and harsh, roaring through her with an intensity she didn’t know was possible, making her limbs seize and she threw her head back, panting.
Tensley stood, like a shadow flowing over her, his eyes dark as they shone with want and power. His eyes penetrated hers from above, a thousand wars shredding and conquering each other from deep within the darkness consuming them, but all were ruled by one need; her. He undid his trousers and she saw the two deep lines that ran front the lowest part of his hips and pointed toward the place where she knew his own desire pulsed, thick and proud.
Hers.
All of it was hers.
First she saw the hint of dark hair, then as he pulled them down, his erection sprang free. He stroked himself, slow and long, the crown an angry red of need.
“Say my name again,” he hissed out between his clenched teeth, his hand still firmly caressing himself.
Molly swallowed slowly, the heat between them so thick it was scorching their skin. It felt as if the second they touched again, they would melt into one another. But she wanted to burn. She wanted to scorch him.
“Tensley,” she breathed, her heavy breasts tingling, so tender, so sensitive.
His eyes darkened and the beautiful beast growled a warning.
He yanked a pillow from the bed and grabbed her hips, confusion fluttering inside of her until he angled her hips and placed the pillow there.
She fought against a smile by pressing her lips tightly together, realizing he was trying to make sure she was comfortable, that the baby wasn’t putting too much pressure on her in their position.
He hovered above her for a bit longer. Eyes dark, hand tight, moves slow, lips parted, and breathing uneven.
Stroke.
Stroke.
Stroke.
His tongue came out slowly, gliding over his full, luscious lips. Molly almost moaned at the sight, ready to start begging.
Before she could do so, he went back to his knees, a vicious, sensual smile playing on his lips as his blunt tip poked at her core, deliberately.
She groaned, her hands going to his shoulders, fingers digging deep in his skin.
It would undoubtedly leave a mark.
She wanted him to ache like she ached, her whole body screaming, burning for him to enter her. To consume hers. To fill her once again.
To strengthen each other in the most primal way.
He watched her, examined her, his brutal full lips parted.
“Dolcezza,” he whispered and she dug her nails deeper into his back at the endearment—so intimately, so softly and he lowered, pressing a soft gentle kiss to her belly. Her heart raced at the sight of the powerful beast peppering her belly with kisses. She breathed heavily, unable to look away as he lifted his head and leaned forward to capture her open mouth. One kiss from him was like a thousand brutal truths and she kissed him back.
He thrust forward, fast and hard, but it was everything they needed. Her nails clawed at his back, at his flexing arms, at his chest, pulling him deeper, so deep into her core it hurt. With the pillow supporting her, the angle
was deep for both of them, deep enough they felt the burn.
They battled each other, warring against their bodies, but working toward the same goal, the same purpose.
She’d fight him, she’d wage war to get that iron heart back. Her fingers curled above his pecs, feeling the violent beat of his warrior heart.
His body powered forward, to a destroying rhythm and she matched him.
It was when his fingers skimmed her round belly, he slowed and his fingers couldn’t stop caressing her.
Her eyes caught his and the look he gave her stole away her breath.
A god bowing to a mortal.
He stole her mouth into another kiss, but this time it was soft, tender, and long.
His mouth peppered gentle kisses against her, and soon, she felt the sting of pleasure approaching. She felt it in the way he grew fast and harsh, his grunts becoming louder and vicious, his hands going to either side of her belly and balancing himself over her.
“Tensley,” she gasped one final time—and that was all it took to make the beast surrender.
He pumped, his cock pulsing and flexing inside of her. His warmth filling her.
He continued to thrust shallowly into her and he bowed his head, grunting lowly.
“Fuck,” he hissed and when he didn’t move, but stayed still, she ran a finger across the sweat gathering on his collarbone and down his pecs. The feeling of his harsh breath against her, the heaving of his chest—all of it felt beautiful.
Tensley slowly pulled out, then bent, grabbing his shirt and wiped her down.
He didn’t say a word as he gripped her hips and helped her further up the bed, placing the pillow behind her head.
What surprised her was when he climbed into bed and laid down beside her.
His hand rested on her belly and she watched his jaw relax. Pure bliss swept over her and she couldn’t fight a smile. She felt warm, she felt safe and cared for. She didn’t want to close her eyes, in fear that all of this would vanish. Or tomorrow he’d return to the beast.
“I love you,” she murmured to him and watched as his relaxed jaw once again clench tight.
