To Crown A Beast (Blackest Gold Book 4)

by R. Scarlett

  Their men were dying. Scorpios was crumbling. Soldiers left and right were no doubts injured and desperately asking for help.

  Hell, she had just witnessed one of them die while she held him in her own hands.

  But now Molly was faced with the one sight she had dreaded seeing.

  Not again, not again, not another…

  Daphne…

  She fell to her knees and gripped Daphne’s face, bringing her head to rest on her lap. Molly barely managed to reign in a deep sob at the sight of her mother-in-law covered in blood.

  “Molly,” Daphne breathed out, a deep frown etched between her brows. She shook her head, struggling to breathe.

  “Daphne, I’m right here,” Molly whispered and swept her hair out of her eyes.

  Daphne, of all people. Sweet, loving Daphne. The late Dux’s wife, who had showed nothing but kindness to all of them. How could someone dare to attack her, dare to hurt her?

  Molly saw red.

  Fury.

  Sadness.

  Disgust.

  It all flowed within her at once, hitting her so hard she could barely see straight. It wrapped around her heart, fed her stomach, and sunk into her brain.

  They would pay for this.

  She would make sure of it.

  She would find Fitz, and she would make sure he died slowly, painfully. The way he deserved.

  Because this was not fair. It wasn’t fair.

  Daphne hadn’t deserved this, none of it. And now she laid in a pool of her blood, fighting to stay awake.

  Those tender brown eyes now watching her closely. She thought of Tensley in that moment. The ache in her chest grew. He had already lost one parent, he couldn’t lose another. He didn’t need them the way children needed their parents, but she knew Tensley, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, cared for his family greatly.

  So Molly wouldn’t let that happen. Not his mother. He wouldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t.

  Daphne gripped Molly’s wrist, her hold weak, but her nails digging into Molly’s bone. “Go hide,” she said, swallowing difficultly. “Please.”

  Molly choked on a sob. “I’m not leaving you.” She took a deep breath and slid her arms underneath Daphne’s armpits, pulling her across the floor and into an office after making sure it was safe and empty.

  Once the door was firmly shut, Molly raced to the desk and grabbed napkins, tissues, she clawed at the drapes that surrounded the big windows, ripping them, whatever material she could find and rushed back to Daphne’s side, her knees hitting the ground painfully next to the older woman.

  Daphne’s breathing grew low and loud, struggling not to drown in her own blood.

  Molly lifted Daphne’s shirt and saw the puncture wound, a knife most likely driven into the side of her ribcage and had no doubt struck her right lung.

  Molly wrapped the fabric she had gathered around her torso, tightly so the bleeding would hopefully stop.

  Just as Molly went to stand, Daphne snatched her hand. The blood smeared across her palm, painting her skin crimson and Molly stared down at her.

  Too much blood. There was too much blood on her.

  Molly’s body was a canvas of Scorpios’ blood and she could feel the panic rising in her throat as her hands shook wildly. The growing panic was wrapping around her airway and tightening quickly.

  No…

  She needed to relax. She needed to take a deep breath in and relax. For Daphne. For the others that might need help. She needed to get herself under control.

  She couldn’t let them down. Not now. She couldn’t…

  Daphne’s big eyes pleaded with her and Molly shushed her reassuringly.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Molly told her, touching her cheek.

  Daphne licked at her bloody lips. “Take care…of the family. You’re going to be… a—a great mother, Molly.”

  The warmth burned the back of Molly’s eyes and she glared down at Daphne. “You are not dying, Daphne. You are not dying, do you hear me.”

  A sad smile touched Daphne’s lips, but she didn’t say a word.

  The door flew open, hitting the wall with a thud and Molly’s body froze as she looked up to see Fitz Senior move into the room.

  He smiled at her, drunk on blood and thirsty for more, his white hair a sore thumb in the darkness of the room.

  “You, my lovely Mrs. Knight,” Fitz said, his eyes strictly on anything but hers. To avoid her lethal gaze. “My favorite daemon bitch, are the next one on my hit list, and your time has fucking come. I’ve had enough of you.”

  When he lunged, she hadn’t prepared herself. She darted out of the way and collided with the desk, gripping it as she turned to face him.

  Just as he went to strike her, she caught his arm and shoved him back, but it wasn’t enough.

  She wasn’t in the right headspace. She couldn’t concentrate on what she needed to do. She’d seen too much blood, too many injured…

  He gripped her wrist and threw her down onto the ground. All the air left her lungs and she watched slowly as his foot descended, aimed at her stomach.

  She screamed when her arms shielded her belly, only for the foot to collide with her hand instead, shattering several bones in her fingers.

  Her strength had been enough to stop Fitz’s foot from making any contact with her stomach, but her hand now looked like a mess of broken bones. The pain filling her eyes with angry tears. She wiped them away quickly with her arm, her earlier wrath tightening around her heart once more.

  Even through the pain, she forced herself back to her feet, ignoring her screaming body. Fitz shook out his foot, the impact with Molly’s hand had no doubt caused him pain, and he seethed with rage.

  Within the next thought, Molly was on Fitz, her hands wrapped around his throat, tightening and tightening. Her shattered hand was useless but the splitting pain she felt as using it didn’t stop her.

  She was waiting for the icy feeling of her powers to start boiling within her but they didn’t. Lance had said they would, he’d said…

  But all she could see and feel was red, powerful hatred running through her system, ravaging it.

  She couldn’t see past it, it filled her to the brink and she let herself drown in it.

  Embrace it.

  The hurt, the rage, the hatred, the disgust.

  All of it.

  She felt a piercing pain, from somewhere near the bottom of her belly, but she didn’t let go.

  Didn’t stop to think about it.

  All she could think about was using every last inch of her energy to strangle Fitz to nothing.

  His face was turning blue, but that ugly, hungry smile kept growing, as he was proud of himself. As if she was doing exactly was he wanted her to do.

  Fitz wasn’t a stupid man, the dirty bastard knew to keep his eyes far from her own, and she wanted to growl in anger. He had learned his lesson from their last confrontation, that much was clear.

  Then, too quickly for Molly to register, Fitz ripped her hands from around his throat, and pushed her away.

  Her back collided painfully with a wall, but she managed to stay on her two feet. Fitz growled deeply, ready to attack once more just as the door swung open. They both paused, glancing over to see Lex in the entrance.

  Her brows wrinkled, exchanging a panicked look with Molly.

  “Lex,” Molly breathed out. “Get away. Run. Now.”

  Senior though had already focused his attention on Lex. “Ah,” he began, his nasty voice dragging the word out. “I remember you from the attack at the pit, little thing,” he added, looking at her up and down, as his tongue ran across his bottom lip, making Molly want to vomit. “Who would forget a pretty bitch like you, huh? I still remember the taste of your skin, the taste of your fear as you were shaking in my arm. Please. Please stop,” he mocked, imitating what Molly guessed had once been Lex.

  Molly’s heart halted and she watched Lex grow considerably pale.

  “I knew you’d come bac
k for more, lovely. But I’m busy now, you see. Wait in the hall for me, and let us finish what we started,” he said, and his gaze turned back to Molly. “Let me finally have a bite of this daemon’s neck because I’m going to rip it off her creamy shoulders once and for all.”

  Molly clenched her jaw. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

  “You stupid whore,” he hissed, and then laughed darkly. “Do you know what I’m going to do once I’m done with you? I’ll rip that fiend baby out of your dead womb and I’ll wave it like a limp flag in front of your Tensley.”

  Those words were like a thousand daggers to her chest, a spark igniting the rage to activate her powers.

  Molly felt the sting of ice behind her eyes and the burn in her fingertips.

  It was starting. Her rage was building, but she felt in control of her powers. Of the powers she finally understood. They were awakening slowly, pacing, waiting to be unleashed on their prey.

  She would destroy anyone who harmed her family, harmed her loved ones, and she’d make them pay gravely.

  Molly glared at the demon who had ruined so many lives, destroyed so many, including her own. He kept his head bowed, avoiding her gaze, but enough to still be able to appear like the powerful asshole he was.

  “You will not touch my son,” she snapped, letting him feel the air change, the anger filtering in-between them until it would suffocate him, too.

  At last, the icy sensation came in waves and she let the power seize her bones, the blood pumping fast in her veins, all the way to her pounding heart. She almost fell to her knees in relief. All was not lost. She could do this, she could.

  She knew he felt the change too—by the way his head tilted upward, that smug smirk wiped off his face, and his hands clenched beside him.

  “Do you have any final words, Fitz?” Molly whispered, staring back at him, unflinching, unwavering.

  Because she was the daemon, Dux of Scorpios and married to the king of demons.

  “You’ll beg me,” Molly bit out and her eyes flashed bright, but not fast enough as Fitz looked away. “You’ll beg me to end your life.”

  He laughed loudly, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Scared to look me in the eye, Fitz?” Molly moved forward and he took a step back. “I may not know all the answers to what I am,” she whispered, the surge of power pumping through her once again. “But now I know what I’m capable of.”

  Just as her hand darted out, he lunged, catching her broken hand and yanking her into him.

  But she wasn’t bowing down. Not anymore.

  She jabbed her elbow with all her might in his thorax, cutting off his breathing for a long second, and he let go in surprise.

  It only lasted a moment, but that simple moment was all she needed to feel the power raged inside her, ready to be freed, and she spun.

  Her hands dug into his arms, drawing blood and before he could act quickly enough and tear his gaze away, she stared straight into his beady eyes.

  They dilated from her power and his strength flooded out of him, and filled her.

  “Beg me now, Fitz,” Molly hissed, the icy sensation burning the back of her eyes. “Beg me to end you.”

  Fitz swallowed, but didn’t look away from her.

  He was entrapped in her spell.

  “Please Mrs. Knight,” he started, sounding almost robotic. “End my life, I beg you.”

  “This war is over,” Molly said, her voice steel and iron and everything was Tensley inside of her.

  Then he blinked and the pain she already felt from her stomach intensified — barely, numbly and she gasped.

  “Molly!” Lex screamed, clutching her own chest.

  And it was all it took for the power she had over Fitz to dim and for him to tear his gaze away from hers. “Naïve little bitch, you thought it worked, didn’t you,” he laughed viciously again. “I’m afraid this is just the beginning, little daemon,” he hissed and struck her.

  Molly stumbled back, crashing into the table, but as soon as her body hit it, she straightened, ready to attack once more.

  Lex growled and rushed toward Fitz, stabbing his side, but it didn’t slow him down. He swung his arm and threw her back, stumbling to the ground.

  But it was the perfect opportunity for Molly.

  He lunged, only for her to side-step him. She caught his eyes again—and this time she didn’t waste a moment.

  She yanked the knife from his hand and sliced his throat.

  He gasped—and redness gushed from the deep cut, soaking his white dress shirt. Slowly, so slowly, he collapsed to his knees, then sagged onto his side, gaping at her bare feet.

  Molly took even deep breaths, watching the last breath seep from his mouth, until he stilled completely.

  Then she collapsed to her knees too and fell over onto her side—when she brought her hands up, they were coated in blood.

  Her own blood, she realized.

  Lex’s hands rubbed up and down her arms, but she barely felt them. So numb, so cold.

  “Molly!” Lex’s voice hollered to her and she saw the worried expression on her face.

  Molly choked, she gasped, she tried to stay conscious.

  “My baby, my—” She put pressure on her side and leaned against Lex who hushed her, tried to speak to her, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t think. All she wanted to do was run, to find help, to save her baby.

  And Daphne.

  “Daph,” she tried saying, but stopped mid-word. She felt so cold, so empty. It was like all her energy was leaving her body at once.

  Molly felt the rush of panic through her system.

  A roar tore through the room like a great darkness had suddenly walked in and engulfed them all. The door crashed, being ripped from its hinges and someone screamed a name. But it didn’t sound afraid, it sounded relieved. From somewhere near, she thought she heard Lex cry.

  Someone bent down in front of Molly and she took him in. At first, her heart froze, thinking it was Tensley.

  That he had come for her, that he was here and that he’d make everything okay, he’d chase all the nightmares and the pain away.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was Beau. Not her husband. Not the man she loved.

  He crouched down in front of her, his hand going to the wound on her stomach and he spoke to her, then to Lex, but Molly couldn’t hear him. Everything was distorted, everything was muffled.

  His dark features were warped into a frown and he shook with rage. Again, he barked something at her, but she couldn’t hear over her own pants.

  “He needs help,” Molly said on a cry, the floor painted in her blood. So much blood.

  Beau wrapped his arms underneath her legs and picked her up, a groan of pain escaping her mouth.

  No, no! I’m not losing you. She had lost Tensley, she had lost so much, but she wasn’t losing her son.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  THE COURT BUZZED in the darkened hall as Tensley leaned back in his throne. Every night, before sleep, Lilith held a feast, a ball to celebrate the king, she would say.

  To celebrate their new leadership together.

  He bit the inside of his cheek at the thought and sneered at his court of snakes and wolves. They lusted after control and prestige. They dreamt of sinking their glistening gold and sharpened teeth deep into the power and never letting go.

  He hadn’t seen Molly for days now and as much as he craved her, he craved keeping her and his son safe more. No one was truly safe here.

  He’d pay his dues to Lilith and find a way out of her grasp.

  His heart pounded at the thought of her threat.

  Of telling the court the truth about what could be found deep within the beast, beating wildly for his queen, once again.

  And that without his new heart, he was a dead man.

  It would be another reason for them to outcast him.

  To destroy him.

  And he knew their thirst for power would go straight to
their head and soon, he’d have a pack of hungry wolves after him, clawing at his back.

  Clawing at his heart.

  They would, no doubt salivate at the thought of being the one to announce they had killed the king.

  Tensley stroked his bottom lip, his eyes flitting to his side where proudly sat the queen herself.

  Not his queen.

  She was nothing but a queen of lies and bloodshed.

  A queen that a beast might crave, but not him.

  He craved a different queen. His true queen. One with blonde soft curls and vivid, breathtaking eyes.

  To Tensley, the queen sitting next to him was nothing but temporary. The throne belonged to his Dolcezza and if she accepted it, he would give it to her on a gold platter.

  But it didn’t take a wise man to see the glint in Lilith’s eyes. The dark, simmering want dancing in the depths of her soul.

  It was only a matter of time before she grew restless and tired of playing around a beast with a heart and puncture his chest to take it out herself.

  She wanted the power.

  He knew she craved it more.

  He knew that to her, he was a temporary misstep in the grand scheme of her supposed plan to gain complete power over his court.

  He had no doubts she would try to kill him. It was only a matter of time.

  So he waited patiently for her to make her move.

  And when she did, he’d be ready. And he would rip her to shreds and never look back.

  His hand rolled into a white-fist on the arm of his throne and he glared at the blunt laughter coming from the savage crowd. They ate like beasts, blood thick on men’s beards, drunk off of aged wine and dark thoughts.

  They appeared civilized, but he now saw what they hid underneath their gowns and suits.

  Beasts thriving off of primal needs.

  And a beast always craved some good bloodshed.

  His fist trembled.

  “My king,” Lilith purred in his ear, her hot breath fanning his earlobe. He stiffened and didn’t bother turning to face her. Her fingers skimmed down his bent fingers, feeling the slight tremble there. “You’ve grown weak again. Only a few days away from you and you become an addict begging for the next taste of her poison. Poor man you’ve become, look what she has done to you…”