by K. Webster
“Let me see you, snowflake.”
She turns to face me, her blue eyes stormy. “It smells like you.”
“Try not to inhale it all morning,” I tease.
A smile plays at her lips. “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”
“It’s already been forgotten.” Reaching up, I tug at a strand of her white hair. “I’ll need my cape on the battlefield, though. I can do without it for breakfast. In the meantime, I’ll have my servants make you something warm.”
Her eyes lift to the crown I’ve placed on my head. Then, excitement glimmers in her eyes.
“Long ago,” she says with a smile, “I could create impenetrable diamondblades like my father and his father and so on. As soon as I’d earned my gift, it was taken away abruptly.” Her fingers wiggle and she looks down at them. “But I feel it, Ryke. I feel the ice and steel in my veins.” She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “I think I can do it again.”
The fact this queen lost her gift in the first place sickens me.
I can’t imagine losing my fire making abilities.
“Let’s see,” I encourage.
Her hand glows bright blue much like mine turns orange-red. The hiss of what sounds like a stone against steel grinds out in unison with the diamondblade that slides from her pointer finger. It’s sharp and strong. This blade will never melt. I take it in my hand and break it away before setting it on the bed.
“Again, Elzira.”
Over and over, she shows me her gift until the bed is littered with her blades. Then, I watch with rapt attention as she forms a circle in the air seemingly from nothing, but I can tell it is from ice. One by one, she attaches her diamondblades to the ring, fastening them with more ice. When she finishes, I realize she’s created a new crown. Tall. Sharp. Severe. Fit for a cruel, powerful queen.
I kneel before her and kiss the back of her hand before rising again. “Allow me,” I rumble, taking the crown from her other hand. I place the heavy crown on her head. It fits perfectly.
“I’ll escort you,” I tell her, offering her my arm.
She lifts a brow. “We’re going down together as a united front?”
“We need to be if we intend on combining our armies and defeating a horde of The Damned.”
“I want to see Yanna,” she reminds me as she loops her arm with mine.
“You will see her. I don’t break my promises.”
Seemingly pleased with that answer, she allows me to guide her from the room. A sense of male satisfaction washes over me at seeing her white clothes hidden way beneath my black cape. It’s as though she belongs to me. The thought thrills me.
I came here to marry a princess and find a way into the Hidden Lands in search of a war.
Instead, I fucked a queen and am uniting in a battle with her.
I’m a man of opportunity.
We enter the dining room, earning the stares of everyone. Danser barely lifts a brow in subtle amusement. Both Jorshi’s and Fayden’s eyes widen in surprise. What has me wanting to thump my chest in pride is the way Cavon’s green eyes burn from behind his white mask. I wish I could see all of his features. Oh, to be inside that man’s head for one second as he watches me claim what he wishes were his.
“The status of The Damned,” I bark out in greeting as I guide Elzira to the head of the table. I pull out her chair for her to sit.
“Upon us,” Jorshi reports. “Before nightfall.”
“Do we know the size?” I ask, settling in the chair beside Elzira.
Jorshi explains what the scout saw. Not quite as many as our two armies combined, but doubly ruthless and savage. The Damned aren’t deterred by the cold. An arrow to the chest won’t stop them. Each soulless bastard has to be mowed down with brute force. We can’t give them any leeway or they’ll overrun us before we know it.
“There’s also word of the Moral War,” Jorshi says, his voice low. “It wages on beyond The Damned.”
“Do we know anything of the beasts who feast on the humans?” I’ve been studying rumors for years, trying to learn more about what’s in the unknown lands.
“Ravenous and brutal. Male.”
“Where are the females?”
“No information on that, my king.”
He continues to speak of what he’s learned from the scout. I’m listening to his report when my eye catches a servant’s. She’s one of the heavy women from last night who brought my sweet queen cold water to bathe in. Locking eyes on her, I watch her every move. Other servants place familiar dishes in front of us, whereas Elzira is given a plate with three small pastries lined in a row.
Before she can walk away, I grab the woman’s thick wrist. “What is this?”
Elzira absently reaches for the pastry, but I drag the plate away from her while also yanking the woman closer.
“What. Is. This?” I demand, my tone punctuated with white-hot rage.
“Her meal, your highness,” the woman utters.
I shove away her hand and point at the plate. The room has gone silent as everyone watches the odd exchange. “Is that enough food for you?”
The woman glowers at me. “No.”
“No, what?”
“No, your highness.”
I pick up the plate and sniff it before dropping it with a heavy clang. “Eat it.”
The woman’s eyes widen. “I beg your pardon?”
Baring my teeth at her, I lean closer. “I want you to eat everything on that plate.”
She glances over at Elzira as though she’ll spare her from my wrath.
“Don’t look at her,” I seethe. “They don’t call me the Truth Seeker for no reason, woman. Eat the goddamn pastries.”
“S-Sir, I c-can’t eat the—”
I pick up one of the pastries and thrust it at her. “Eat it.”
She shakes her head, defying me, as she stumbles away from me. I rise from the table and prowl after her with the pastry.
“Why won’t you eat it, woman?”
“It is for the queen,” she hisses. “I have already eaten.”
“I want you to hear something,” I growl. “Three pastries for your queen is an insult. It is treasonous because you are underfeeding her. Slowly trying to kill your queen.”
The woman chokes on her words. “N-No, it is what she always eats.”
I pin her with a cold glare. “Today it is what you eat.”
Her eyes flick over to the exit, as though she’ll get far from me. I dare her to try.
“I can’t eat it,” she says. “I don’t like those pastries.”
“Put it in your mouth or so help me I’ll kill you where you stand.”
The woman shakily takes the pastry and makes a face at it. As if the pastry has personally wronged her. Her eyes dart to the doorway again. She brings it to her mouth and then sniffs. Panic contorts her chubby features into a sour expression. Rather than taking a bite, she tosses it at me and runs past me.
She’s barely made it three steps before I’ve unsheathed my sword and swung it at her.
Thwack!
Thud.
The slamming of her heavy body onto the stone floor echoes loudly in the dining room. Her severed head rolls a few feet before stopping, the open eyes of the woman staring back at me. I shove my bloody sword back into its sheath before turning to regard everyone in the room. The servants gape at me, Cavon narrows his eyes at me, and Danser smirks.
It’s Elzira whose eyes I catch and hold.
Surprise. Gratitude. Hunger.
She smiles at me and I smile back.
“Yashka!” I bark out, my voice carrying out of the dining room toward the kitchen.
The man waddles in, his face red and covered in sweat from cooking. “Yes, your highness?”
“Queen Whitestone would like one of your hearty, delicious meals. Not whatever it is her servant just tried to serve her.” I look pointedly at the remaining servers. “Any of you try to feed her and it’ll be your heads next. Yashka is to bring her her meals. N
o one else.”
We spend the rest of our meal discussing the situation of The Damned.
And my queen eats every damn morsel on her plate.
Things are changing around here.
The Truth Seeker isn’t done yet.
Elzira
Ryke’s man, Danser, leads the way down the corridor to a room protected by two guards. At least no one will get in to hurt my sister. Both men look fierce and dedicated to their king, unlike the spineless coward from yesterday. Danser fishes out a key from his pocket and unlocks the door. As soon as it opens, I hear her voice.
“You monsters better let me see my sister,” she screeches, pummeling Danser in front of me. “Or else I will kill you all!”
My heart swells at hearing my protective sister chance death by confronting one of Ryke’s most lethal men. The smile on my face falls when I look past him at the fire flickering in the fireplace.
“Yanna!” I cry out, shoving past him.
My sister lets out a pained sob upon hearing me and falls into my arms. Her embrace is tight, as though she refuses to part with me ever again.
“Oh, sister, darling,” I coo. “I’m here. Don’t worry.”
It’s me who worries, though.
The fire.
The sichee crawlers.
“Are you ill?” I ask, pulling away to palm her warm, rosy cheeks.
Her brows pull together in confusion. “No,” she breathes. “I’m furious that they’ve separated us. How are you? Did the man get you your tonics? Have you eaten today?”
The familiar way with which she fusses over me warms me. For so long, her caring words and actions were the only things that warmed me. Now, I have Ryke. Just thinking about him makes me burn inside.
“I am fine,” I assure her, beaming. “I’m feeling well. I ate quite a bit for breakfast.”
She leans in. “The tonics? You need them.”
“I’m feeling better. I don’t think I need them anymore. King Bloodsun’s physician is very talented. He’s healed me—”
“Here,” she cuts me off, reaching into the pocket on her dress and pulling out three small vials. “Take them. I refuse to let you perish because they think their physician is special. I’ve studied your condition. I know what you need, sister.”
Ryke stalks into the room and wrenches us apart, taking the vials from my hand. “Elzira won’t be needing these anymore.” He pockets them before glowering at Yanna. “Are you warm enough in here? Perhaps you should have given this room to the queen.”
Yanna stiffens and her hands ball into fists. “She needs the tonics.”
“Perhaps you’re not as knowledgeable as you think,” he challenges. “For you thought you were deathly allergic to sichee crawlers and were just sure the spores were in all the chimneys. And yet…” His gaze drifts to the fire. “I’ve yet to see one.”
“What are you saying?” Yanna huffs, clearly insulted by his words.
“Your sister is safe with me,” is all he says, turning to regard me. “Come, Queen. We have to plan for battle.”
“Battle?” Yanna cries out. “It’s not safe. Elzira, you can’t go into a battle. You’re not well.” Heavy tears well in her eyes and spill out. “Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have left.”
My chest aches and I swallow down the emotion. “You mustn’t worry over me. I’m The Punisher of The Damned. They need me in this battle.”
“Please,” she begs. “Your illness is fickle. What if it strikes when you need to be strong?”
Ryke snakes a possessive arm around my waist, sending tendrils of desire crawling through me. “Then I will be strong for her.”
I take Yanna’s hand and squeeze it. “This will all be over soon,” I assure her. But I hope it ends differently than I thought. I’m selfish enough to wish that I heal and Ryke takes me as his rather than my sister. Regardless, The Damned will be here before we know it. And either I’ll die, or I won’t. The end is most definitely near.
After we leave my sister’s room, Ryke hands over the tonics to Danser and leans in to give him an order. Danser slips away in an instant.
Fury ripples from Ryke and he grabs my hand roughly. I frown at him as he all but drags me back to my tower. As soon as the door closes, he releases me and stalks over to the fireplace. I cross my arms over my chest and watch as he takes his anger out on the logs. One by one he slams them into the fireplace as if they’re worthy of his punishment. As if beheading a servant wasn’t enough for one day. He slings his fist toward the logs and then they burst into a large flame that sends ripples of heat dancing across my skin. When he turns to regard me, he looks borderline evil. A dark glint in his amber eyes. A sinister smile curling up one side of his lips. His dark hair is in disarray and an unruly lock drops over his brow.
He prowls my way, his expression unreadable. The moment he reaches me, he tugs off his cape that’s around me and sends it to the floor before his hands grip my waist. His lips slam to mine in a punishing way that has me gasping for air. I slide my palms up his chest, locking my fingers behind his neck. He starts yanking up my dress with one hand and lifts my bottom with the other. I cry out when he pins me hard against the stone wall. Our eyes meet the moment his erection grinds into me. He reaches between us to unfasten his trousers and to take hold of his cock. I moan when he barely presses his hardness into my sore sex. My fingernails dig into the flesh behind his neck in a threatening way.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls, his lips brushing along my jaw to my ear. “But you’re not ready, are you?”
I whimper when he nips at my ear. Then, he draws my earlobe into his mouth with his teeth, teasing me. The more he licks and sucks me, his hot breath in my ear, the more aroused I become. I dig my heels into his ass, drawing him closer. The tip of his cock easily slides inside me.
“I’m ready now, my king,” I breathe, working my hips in a needy way. “Take me hard like you want to.”
He bites my neck as he slams into me. No warning. Just a brutal thrust. I cry out and pull him closer, desperate for the connection. Snowflakes flutter around us, but then a wave of intense heat emanating from him melts them away and soaks me with sweat through my dress.
“So hot,” I choke out, throwing my head back to gasp for cooler air.
Like a madman, he drives into me hard and severe. The wall will leave bruises on my spine and I don’t even care. I love this untamed, wild side of him. The side that has him about to explode the room with his heat. A hot finger burns through the front of my dress, exposing my breasts to him when it parts open. The scent of burning fabric can be smelled as he shreds my dress with fiery fingers. His touch singes me, but I like the pain of it. A reminder of who has me in his grip. Once he completely removes me of my dress, he pulls me away from the wall, his hands gripping my ass tight. As though I weigh nothing, he bounces me on his cock, taking every inch inside of me as his own.
“Elzira,” he growls, yanking me off his throbbing cock.
He tosses me on the bed, causing me to lose my breath, not giving me a second to recover before he’s grabbing my hips and flipping me. I shriek when he yanks me roughly off the side of the bed so my ass is bared to him. His boot pushes my right leg out, parting me for him, and then his cock is invading me once more. Hot hands grip my ass, sending sharp burning sensations through my flesh.
So hot.
So hot.
So good.
I clench around him, desperate for the impending orgasm that’s teasing me. He must sense my need because he slips his hand around to my front as he brutally thrusts into me from behind. His fingers are hot to the touch and I fear he’ll burn my most sensitive place straight from my body. But he moves them too quickly to linger in one spot long enough to do damage. The pain quickly turns to pleasure as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge of the cliff that will send me spiraling into the inferno of bliss.
“Ah!” I cry out, pressing back against him.
So close.
/> His palm cracks against my ass, echoing loudly in the room. It’s enough to shove me right over. A scream rips from me a second before my pleasure takes hold of me, jolting me hard. My body clenches around him, causing him to lose it. An unearthly growl rumbles from him.
Fire.
I can feel it burning my palms, my breasts, my hair. And yet I remain right within it, safe in the fire maker’s arms. Flames lick at my torso from beneath me. The furs are on fire. The room is cooking with us inside it. As his burning seed bursts into me, I give into his fires. Give into him.
The pain nearly becomes unbearable on my flesh, but then I’m wrenched away from the bed. Ryke scoops me into his arms and carries me out of the room toward the bath we’d abandoned earlier this morning. The cold water is a shock to my system when he dumps me into it, dunking me beneath the surface. I thrash and sputter when I come out in time to see him yanking off his clothes. Once he’s gloriously naked, he steps into the cold water with me. His skin hisses when it comes in contact with the water. He settles into it before pulling my back to his chest.
Warm hands seek out my burns beneath the water and his healing touch takes away the pain. His lips find my ears and he kisses me.
“I’m sorry,” he rumbles. “I lost control. I would never hurt you.”
A shiver rattles through me. He summons his fires and heats the water.
“I liked it,” I tell him, turning to look at him. “I still felt safe with you.”
The madness in his eyes fades as the man I’ve come to adore comes back to me. He strokes my hair and peppers kisses on my face.
“I wish we weren’t about to battle The Damned. Our time together feels too short,” he grumbles. It’s endearing to see a strong, powerful, fire making king pout.
A flash of a black-haired toddler with blazing blue eyes and a wicked smile dances in my mind.
Foolish woman.
Happy endings aren’t for cold, nearly dead queens.
His mouth presses to mine in a soul-stealing kiss.
A foolish woman can pretend, though.
