by Katie May
Rummaging through his desk drawer, Father procured a small bottle housing a tawny brown liquid.
"Drink," he instructed stiffly. My body screamed at me to rebel, to fight, but my mind warned me against it. Not only was I practically useless against two grown, powerful men who could walk, I also had more to lose than they did. I had no doubt that one act of disobedience would cause harm on the people I loved.
The concoction I drank was created by the Mage King, designed to regrow limbs, tissue, and skin.
The second the warm liquid touched my throat, fire emitted in my veins. The burning feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant, but pinpricks of phantom pain erupted where my legs should've been. That was soon replaced by real pain, so intense that my back arched and tears welled in my ears.
I could feel my skin growing, my bones expanding, my muscles constricting. I didn't even have to open my eyes to see that where there were once stubs were now two golden legs. My legs.
Gifted to me by my father.
I heard rather than saw a blade being sharpened. I didn't want to open my eyes and see their mocking stares and condescending smiles. However, that didn't mean I couldn't hear.
Couldn't feel.
The first cut of the knife sliced through skin only, and I cried out at the initial stab of pain. I knew it would only get worse.
My father's rancid breath entered my nostrils as he leaned over me, and I gagged.
"We gave you these legs..." A knife cut down once more just below my knees. "And we can take them away just as easily. Remember that when you think to disobey or talk back to me."
And so, with bated breath, I fell into a cycle of endless torment.
As always, my cries and pleas fell on deaf ears.
THIRTEEN
Z
The dress was beautiful.
The type of ethereal beauty that you would glance at once and then find yourself unable to look away from.
Staring in the mirror, I felt like a princess. It was something I had never felt before, and something I didn't even know I wanted to feel before.
The bodice was ornately tailored, modestly clutching my breasts and revealing very little cleavage. Long sleeves, a darker blue than the rest of the dress, were similarly adorned with light blue flowers. From there, the skirt cascaded around me like pure silk. It swished around my legs as I walked.
I kept my blond hair down but decided to straighten it. The golden hair still retained some wave to it, but it was no longer a mess of curls. I wore minimal makeup - enough to bring color to my cheeks and heighten my eyes - but what really completed the outfit was the pair of earrings I had found left on my bed.
I couldn't be certain which one of my mates had given me such a gift, but the female in me cooed. They were long, crafted from pure gold, and led to an intricate combination of circles that touched my neck with each shake of my head.
I normally hated dresses, despised dressing up, but I couldn't deny how beautiful I felt as I looked in the mirror. I looked like a female who was actually worthy of her seven princely mates.
Of course, I kept two daggers on my thighs and a razor blade beneath my dress sleeve. Some things would never change.
"You look beautiful," a soft, familiar voice said from behind me. I spun, skirt billowing around me, and met Atta's dark eyes. She smiled conspiratorially, flashing me a wink. "Those guys of yours aren't going to know what hit them."
She spoke as if we were old friends, best friends, and a part of me hated her for it. The other part of me yearned for the companionship she was freely offering. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but loneliness constantly threatened to drown me. Consume me. It was eating away at me ever so slowly.
I missed Diego so badly that it hurt. And I missed Mali, despite everything she had done. My loneliness was a bottomless pit of pure darkness, threatening to chew me up and spit me out. I wouldn't survive such a fall, and I didn't even know if I wanted to.
"What are you doing here?" I asked stiffly, turning back towards the mirror in my room.
I heard Atta's heavy sigh from behind me.
"I just want to be your friend, Z. I don't have any evil intentions. I need a friend, and I know you do too. You're my brother's mate, for fuck's sake. Why wouldn't I want to get to know you? Befriend you?" She spoke with such conviction, pulling the words deep from her heart, that I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe her so badly that I nearly started crying.
I didn't, of course, but I wanted to.
Frowning, I fiddled with the sleeves of my dress.
"You don't have to answer me," Atta continued. "And you don't have to forgive Mali. She made a huge mistake; we both know that. It took me awhile to forgive her myself, and I didn't even know Diego-"
"You're right," I snapped, spinning once more on my heel. "You didn't know him, so you couldn't possibly understand what I'm going through. The grief I feel. The pain. The fucking betrayal."
Each word was hissed through clenched teeth. Atta watched me, face impassive except for the slightest, imperceptible tick of her jaw.
"I'm not here to argue with you," she said primly. Her hands folded on her lap. “And I'm sorry for implying that you should forgive Mali. It's your decision, I know that, but I also know that she loves you fiercely. She misses you, and I hate seeing my mate so distressed."
My breaths sawed in and out, and I worked on calming my racing heart. Each breath physically hurt me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't release or take in enough air.
"You look beautiful as well," I whispered at last. It was an apology...and it wasn't. It was the sort of muddled, middle ground I often found myself in with the people I cared about. A gray landscape that wasn't quite dark enough to be considered black and not light enough for it to be white.
Still, Atta took the bone I threw her with a grateful smile.
"Thank you."
I wasn't lying. Atta did look beautiful. She wore a pink dress that accentuated each one of her curves. Her red hair was piled into an elaborate bun at the top of her head, twin braids twining the hair away from either side of her face.
"I need to go meet up with my date," Atta said, jumping to her feet. She flashed me another tentative smile, and my lips reluctantly tilted up to match her own. I was afraid my "smile" resembled more of a grimace, but I was trying.
"Your date?" I parroted, following her to the door. Was Mali coming to the ball?
Fear and exhilaration warred for dominance within me before both emotions were swept away by anger, white hot.
Atta's smile turned apologetic. "No...Jax. My fiancé."
The smile left my face instantly, a bucket of cold water being thrown over my head. My eyes narrowed into thin slits as jealousy reared and bucked within me. They told me that green was the color of jealousy, but that was a blatant lie. All I saw was red as I stared at the beautiful woman preparing to meet up with my mate.
I couldn't quite understand the extent of my possessiveness.
Atta held up her hands placatingly.
"It's just for appearances," she said soothingly. "I know he's yours."
When I continued to glare at her, my emotions running rampant within me, she took another step closer. Her tiny hands rested on my shoulders.
"I promise you, Z. You have nothing to worry about. I much prefer the P over the D, if you know what I mean." As if to further emphasize her point, her gaze flickered to my heaving breasts. A delicate flush raced up her neck, and she glanced up quickly. "Jax loves you...well...as much as someone as fucked up as him can. Please trust me. And if you don't trust me, trust him. There's nothing to be jealous of." She laughed heartily, throwing her head back and releasing my shoulders. "If anything, those guys should be jealous of the time I spend with you."
When I raised a brow at her in confusion, she flashed me a sultry wink.
"You have good tits," she said unashamedly. At that, I began to laugh as well. Atta was beginning to grow on me. Like a fungus.
My laughter
diminished as I mentally reeled in my jealousy. It didn't completely abate, but I no longer wanted to claw her eyes out. I may not trust her completely, but I trusted Jax. I trusted all my guys, actually. Even Bash.
That asshole could talk a big game, but I knew innately that he would never cheat on me or do something stupid.
Flicking her fingers in a makeshift wave, Atta ducked out the door. I wasn't even able to close it before a dark boot appeared in the doorway. The boot led to skin-tight black pants, a white dress shirt and black suit, and then finally to a mane of golden hair. It took me a moment to place where I knew him from, and fear raced down my veins in icy waves.
Tavvy. Dair's old brother.
I didn't know a lot about him, only that he had hurt my mate. In a fit of jealousy, he and his father had cut off his legs in order to make him less desirable. Dair tried to hide his pain, tried to bury it in the sand, but there was only so much he could do. For that reason alone, I hated Tavvy. The hate stemmed from deep within my stomach, this baked fire burning red hot, before spreading upwards. Every nerve in my body was seconds away from exploding just by being in his presence.
I could only describe his smile as predatory as he did a careful perusal of my body. His tongue snaked out to lick his lips, and I shivered in disgust.
"What are you doing here...your highness?" I tacked on the title at the end, just barely keeping my aversion in check. He chuckled, the sound teetering the edge between annoying and malevolent, before leaning forward. His hand tightened around a strand of my blond hair, and I resisted the urge to cut that hand off.
Considerable restraint, if I did say so myself.
"I'm your date," he murmured. His face turned into my neck, inhaling deeply. That disgust turned into anger and that anger contorted into fear. The way he touched me...
It was almost as if he believed he had absolute control over me and my body.
That mentality could get someone killed. Me or him - the verdict was still out on that one.
"I'm your date," he repeated huskily. His nose brushed my sensitive skin, and I shivered in revulsion. He mistook my tremble for one of desire, and his hand tightened on my waist. "You're so fucking beautiful. Sexy."
"I don't think this is a good idea, your highness," I said diplomatically, stealthily attempting to move away from his wandering hands. My attempted escape found me pressed further against the door, his lean body towering over mine. Fear once more cemented me to the ground, but I pushed it away.
I had dealt with handsy Nightmares before, but this was a prince. My usual method of cutting off his dick wouldn't work in this scenario.
"Why isn't it a good idea?" He breathed deeply, and I felt something slimy against my neck. Was that his...? Was that his tongue?
"Because you're a prince, and I'm the assassin," I reasoned. I was pleased when my voice didn't quiver with the desperation that I felt.
Please, please, please, don't make me cut off his dick. I'm not sure that's an offense I could come back from with my life.
But I would, cut off his dick that was, if the situation called for it. Anything, including death, would be better than the alternative.
"Brother."
The glacial voice had Tavvy spinning around, finally releasing me. I slumped against the wall, heart racing, and nearly cried in relief when I spotted Dair wheeling himself forward.
I had never seen such anger on his face before. It burned, blistering hot, and made his handsome face look ironically colder. More like his brother's.
His body was held tautly, and he leveled his brother with a glare that should've been able to level an entire city.
"Father changed his mind," Dair said icily. He wheeled himself towards me, hands clasping my own.
Tavvy raised his eyebrow at that.
"Father changed his mind?" he repeated in disbelief.
"I will escort Z to the ball now," my mate said smoothly. His hand tightened around mine to the point of pain. A good pain, I noted somewhat dizzily. "You are excused."
Tavvy opened and closed his mouth, gaping at me like a fish plucked from the water. The demented part of me wanted to chuckle at the comparison, but I kept my expression apathetic.
"You can ask Father if you so wish to," Dair continued with a lazy shrug.
Tavvy's glare was just as scathing as Dair's, but he conceded with a sharp nod of his head. His eyes, though, promised retaliation. Pain. Agony. Torment.
That one stare eloquently spoke words he would never need to say. It allowed me to see past his front and into his very fucking soul. His soul that was as dark as night. Twisted and depraved.
With a huff, Tavvy spun on his heel and stomped down the hall. His attitude reminded me of a misbehaving child not receiving the toy he wanted. As soon as he disappeared, Dair turned towards me, eyes desperate. His hands grabbed at my body, my hands, reaching futilely for my neck as if checking me for injuries.
"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" he bit out. I knelt down so he could touch me easier, and his arms tightened around my middle. Before I could reply, he lifted me up and put me on his lap. His arms remained tight around me, and his face nestled against my neck. Unlike with his brother, this felt right. A piece of the puzzle clicking into place.
"I'm fine," I assured Dair softly. I lifted his face up, tracing the planes of his handsome face with my fingers. His golden hair glinted in the artificial lighting, and his blue eyes hypnotized me. He was so beautiful, so perfect, that I wanted to skip the ball and memorize every line of his face. "He didn't do anything."
That was technically a lie, but I could see how precarious Dair's grip on control was. I didn't know what would happen once he realized the truth - that his brother had been seconds away from attempting to rape me.
I knew I had made the right decision to hide the truth when Dair's body physically deflated. The next second, Dair's hands were cupping the back of my head, and his lips were desperately attacking my own. I leaned into the kiss, tangling my tongue with his. Desire set every nerve alive as I leaned further into his bruising kiss. His hands moved to my hips before lowering, curving around the shape of my ass. He gave my cheeks a squeeze, and I moaned into his mouth.
Finally, he broke away, planting sweet kisses to each corner of my lips, down to my jaw, and then across my neck.
"You look beautiful," he whispered huskily. He bucked against me, and I felt something hard brush my sensitive mound. "So fucking beautiful."
Those hands of his continued to knead my ass, and that desire and lust transformed into something else. I couldn't discern what it was exactly, but my entire body went up in flames. And my heart? It threatened to break free of its cage.
"And," Dair continued in a rasp, "you're wearing my color."
"You like it, don't you?" I whispered. I didn't know if it was the dress or Dair himself that made me feel brave. Maybe it was the incident with Tavvy that made me see things differently. I felt...sexy. Powerful. Every inch the badass assassin and mate to seven princes.
A fucking queen.
I removed myself off of Dair's lap, straightening my dress and patting down my disheveled hair. Dair let out a painful gasp, reaching for me.
"You like it when I wear your color," I whispered, barely recognizing the seductive lilt to my voice.
Dropping to my knees, I touched his bulge.
Like his brother, he was dressed in a black suit and white shirt. His golden blond hair was slicked back, showcasing his lightly tanned face and cerulean blue eyes. Eyes that reminded me of long nights on the beach.
With a quick glance down the hallway, assuring no one was in sight, I unzipped his pants.
Dair let out a harsh breath.
"Someone could walk down and see us," he whispered hoarsely. His chest heaved with each of his breaths. Despite his words, his hands settled on my waist, pulling me even closer.
"Then let them see."
I released his cock from its confines, groaning at the sight of it. It was long and thi
ck, the same tawny gold color of his skin. Pre-cum dusted the tip, and I lowered my head to taste it. Taste him.
His hands left my waist to tangle in my hair. His breathing was erratic, unhinged, and I smiled at being the cause of seeing him so unkempt.
I reached further into his pants to cup his balls, testing the weight with my hand before giving it a light squeeze. He hissed, eyes flashing with heat, before he tilted his head back with a groan.
I licked the tip slowly, using my saliva and his own cum as lubricant. His labored breathing reached my ears, eliciting my own goosebumps of desire. There was something immensely attractive, sexy, desirable, about knowing you were the one tearing a man apart. Making him succumb to desire.
I used one hand to lift his thick girth as I licked the salty underside. His cock twitched with each lick, suck, and kiss. My other hand continued to fondle his balls.
"Please," he whispered breathily. I wrapped my mouth around his length, taking him in as far as I could. The tip of his cock touched the back of my throat, but I knew I could take him even further.
"Fuck!" he screamed. He grabbed at my hair and began to fuck my mouth in earnest. I allowed him to, staying still, as his cock entered and exited me erratically. When my hand squeezed his balls tightly, he exploded. He tried to pull away, but I held him in place, swallowing everything he had to offer. His body shook as he released his seed inside my mouth.
Finally, I pulled away, smiling in satisfaction. Dair's eyes were dazed, hooded with desire, as they rested on my face. That desire and lust turned into something else, something that caused my breath to leave me in a swooping exhale.
Because the expression on his face looked an awful lot like love.
Love.
For me.
As he continued staring at me, I ducked back into my room, grabbed a washcloth, and returned. His dopey expression didn't leave as I cleaned him up and gently placed his half-erect cock back into his pants.
"Z..." he whispered hoarsely, and I just knew what confession would leave his lips.
