by May Sage
The poor guys really were a couple of oafs, but that worked on his favor. Silvia was soon reminding him:
“You were about to take me to my room, right?”
However, she did manage to make that sound exactly like what he’d wished it had been.
Brilliant. She was brilliant – if a little bit cruel. It was an efficient form of distraction and diversion, simultaneously giving her an out and setting both of her newly overprotective brothers on his ass.
Well played.
There had been free space on every floor, but leading her to the bedroom which was hers took a little while; he’d needed to get in the very last floor. The family suite.
He passed Seb’s bedroom, his informal office, their messy living room, with the pizza box in front of the TV and the usual can of fizz next to the sofa.
Then, the master bedroom. He wished he could just have settled her there, but the state of his balls did matter to him, and he was quite certain that they might not have survived her knee jerk reaction if he even attempted it.
So, instead, he took her to the room that had been his mother’s. Yes, the parents – thankfully for the sake of his sanity – had done the separate bed thing when they’d lived there – at least, when he’d been around.
There was a large bed nestled under billowy curtains, the beige brocade was probably a bit outdated, but the room was tasteful, large and welcoming. Most importantly, it was next to his.
While it wasn’t used, it had sporadically been freshened up, and from the roses displayed on the dressing table, the last clean up had been recent.
“Isn’t that Vanessa’s room?”
“Hardly,” he snorted. “Vanessa stayed with me. Downstairs.”
In the bedroom he’d adopted after her arrival, because submitting Seb to her presence wasn’t working out for anyone involved.
“This was my mother’s.”
“What happened to her?”
She became relatively less defensive, warmer, probably expecting a tragic explanation. He would have played the sympathy card, if he could.
“She and dad are travelling around. They’re in the new world at the minute, if one believes the postcards. He abdicated as soon as he could get the damn crown off his head.”
Just as Erik planned to do, if Seb was amenable. Don’t judge, the King thing was fun for about ten years, max.
“They’d probably fly over if they knew what’s happening; which is why I’ll write an email about it when it’s over and done with.”
Damian Gryffon had had his fair share of trouble during his reign; hell, he’d even spent a considerable amount of time in the form of a frog, if the stories were true. This wasn’t his mess to deal with.
And Erik really wasn’t about to invite either of his parents over before he’d had a sapphire and diamond ring on Silvia’s finger; he could imagine the kind of remonstrance he’d face otherwise.
Which brought him back to the subject at hand:
“Seb will want you here,” he said, not above playing the kid card to get the girl. “And so would I. Just after you’re done screaming at me for being an absolute prick to you, so I can beg for your pardon.”
And propose. As soon as they put that mess behind them.
She just sighed.
“I’m not that kind of person, Erik. Drama isn’t my thing. There’s nothing to scream about.”
Which also meant that there was nothing to fight for.
No way was he letting her get away with that. He took a step forward and bent to speak low, close to her ear.
“I haven’t hurt you? I mean, I turned on you right after fucking you,” he reminded her, his breath causing goosebumps on her skin.
Her body was responding to him, but she had an iron grip on her facial expression and the tone of her voice came detached, indifferent.
“The next day, if you want to be technical about it. Don’t play the manipulation game, Erik. I’ll win.”
On that note, she prove just how right she was, by strolling inside her bedroom and, without closing the door, removing her skintight suit, slowly, sensually.
She pulled it down to her waist before looking over her shoulder and blowing him a freaking kiss.
“You can stop gapping and close the door for me, darling.”
Oh, she would pay for that.
He was still painfully hard about three hours later, when she came down from her nap, answering his summon. The navy commanders had come up with a final draft of their strategy and they wanted approval. Needless to say, hers, not his.
“What is it with the bloody latex getup,” he growled to Ludwig; but one of the damn sisters heard.
He’d be inclined to doubt every single word coming out of their mouths, as each of them bore a distinct resemblance to his dear ex-fiancée, but Silvia trusted them. End of story.
“It’s an armor we’ve fashioned for her, actually. It’s flexible, but it will be as strong as her dragon’s skin. As she wants to gut our father, it seemed like the least we could do.”
“And it only came in tight as fuck?”
“No, but that’s more fun that way.”
It was only fun if he could undo it himself. With his teeth.
A little hand was pulling his jacket and for a minute, he expected to see Seb, before recalling that the child was as far away as possible from the coast. It was a little feisty Queen in front of him, one meter down – or something close to it, in any case.
She waved him forward and he obediently lowered his hear to hear her secret.
“I have an idea,” she said.
He listened, then shook his head, horrified.
Up until he turned and saw Silvia frowning, her attention solely focused on him, and the women who’d converged around.
Well, it was pretty low, but a starving man couldn’t be picky. He’d do what he needed to get a reaction.
•
It was intentional. He was playing, against her advice, which was unwise because she could have done the exact same thing to get back at him.
She wouldn’t, though. She’d come up with something better, and the little shit would cry.
Erik was flirting with Anne. The sweetheart was playing along, of course – she physically wasn’t able to say no to anyone. An adorable fault, until situations like this, when it might actually cause her premature demise.
Ok, he’d made a very valid point here: she hated it.
Don’t fucking touch her, she all but shouted when he took her hand to lead her to her seat. She forced herself to go back to her map.
Ok, maybe avoidance wasn’t the way forward for that particular problem. Seeing their ridiculous little scene actually made her think about a future that would go exactly as she’d hoped.
Help the Denkerian, bugger off to her island, leave Erik and the rest of the world behind, occasionally popping out to see her nephew grow up.
The plan had a whole lot of holes in it.
Foremost in her mind was the fact that Dane was becoming Erik’s pal. There was no way, no possible circumstances she might visit without hearing news of Denker. She’d learn when he got married.
The green eyes monster in her wasn’t very ugly right now, as she knew exactly what he was up to, but the memory of the visceral reaction Vanessa had caused did suggest that the news might not end well.
She could see herself becoming just as crazy as Seb’s mother – only, she was ten, fifty times more dangerous.
“Your grace?”
The appellations were seriously getting to her nerves. What was it with grace, highness, and other shit? She’d take Witch any day.
“I agree. If they know I’m here, they’d assume I sail in the royal ship with Dane, or Erik at least. I’ll take my own ship, if you’ve got the time to paint the Denkerian colors on it.”
“Already done. Sorry: every suitable vessel was recruited. You’ll be compensated for…”
She waved that nonsense off.
“And you
’re certain Morgan will be there?”
Daria nodded.
“He liked to get his hands dirty; and no one else would have been powerful enough to create or maintain these walls. The siren might have helped, but he’s in charge. He’ll be at the front, with some of my sisters.”
That he would be raping – or too fucking close to it, anyway – if or when his energy dwindled. No need to add that bit.
“The sisters won’t be an issue?”
“No, they’ll let us through. The majority of the army will answer to Lady Silvia, regardless.”
“Enough with the Lady already!”
Sandro asked what most around the table were wondering:
“How come they’ll answer to you?”
Some eyebrow raised; it was something, as her brother, that he would have known, if he’d been interested.
Silvia shrugged, she didn’t like that particular kind of discussion; pedigree and history lessons were her bane, in general, but when it was her history they discussed, she all but shuddered.
His eyes turned to Daria.
“Amphitrite was the funder of Atlantis; Poseidon just married her. We come from Poseidon’s line. Silvia is Amphitrite’s daughter. She may not be after the throne, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s our rightful Queen.”
“Blood doesn’t matter,” she stubbornly protested. “The de Luz didn’t found Alenia; the Gryffons weren’t the first kings of Denker. They’ll betray him because Morgan is a dick and has harmed those who were his to care for.”
“That, too.”
Chapter 15: Checkmate.
Payback came swiftly, brutal and cruel.
He was on his back, struggling to fall asleep, imagining a pair of lips when they were flush against his, literally and figuratively taking his breath away. Fuck.
One of his hand grabbed her hair, as the other one caressed her leg, all the way up; she shifted above him and he feared that she might attempt to stop, but instead, she was slowly kissing down his chest, making him grown as her lips grazed him.
Fuck. She kissed his length, currently harder than steel, through his boxers, before gliding them to his feet. Once that was out of the way, she dropped her lips to his dick and flickered her tongue over the tip.
Oh, to every god still alive, don’t let him embarrass himself, he prayed when she opened her mouth and took him inside. Then, she sucked.
He actually went blind, overwhelmed by a physical pain. Trying his hardest not to blow his load here and there was that hard.
Removing her lips, she said “delicious,” before dropping a quick kiss and getting up.
Next thing he knew, the door was closing. He heard the distinct click of a lock next door.
Wow.
Nothing he’d ever done, nothing, had deserved that stun.
Somehow, though, a laugh was ripped out of his chest.
He’d made her play. Results.
There were a few minor issues the next day. The first occurred between Daniel and Cinderella.
“You’re freaking pregnant, Ella! And what good do you think you might accomplish in a freaking water fight, exactly? You’ve got fire. A weak fire, too. The only thing you’ll be good for is distracting me. You’re staying.”
The Queen did show him just how weak her fire was after that. The tattoo was permanent. As she was kind, she’d gone for the shape of a fiery sun, rather than the dick she’d been tempted to carve on his flesh.
Daniel shut up after that.
The other issue was that the commanders had somehow believed that he wouldn’t be sailing with Silvia. Like, really. That had been the plan.
As it was most definitely some sort of a joke, he treated it as such.
“Sort it out.”
Ten minutes later, Ludwig was in his jacket, his diadem on his hair and Erik was quite smug, in his simple uniform, standing right where he belonged.
The ship was the eighth in a line of twenty four; it was the newest and possibly the fastest of the fleet, but other than that, it was inconspicuous.
Silvia sat next to him in the cabin.
“You’re clingy.”
“Well, you suck,” he childishly replied.
Weak, but that was the best he had right now, and it did make her laugh.
“You wish I sucked.”
That was so easy between them; laughing, joking, and yes, loving.
Fuck, he loved her. He’d suspected that he might come to that quite quickly, should she let him in, but now he got it: he already did.
“When we get out of there, I’m going to marry you.”
No word followed the intake of breath, so he added:
“It’s not a riddle. Hell, the ring is at home, so it’s not even a proposal. I’m just saying.”
•
The ship stopped and Silvia knew it had started; staying down, while feeling and hearing the pain, the effort, the death of men and mers was pure torture, but they had a plan and she was going to stick to it.
She was well placed to know that most subjects didn’t want or ask for any of that shit. In eighty percent of the cases, wars were started by two people; one who wanted something, another one, refusing to relinquish it.
The second party was Erik, although he didn’t know – or hadn’t shared – his part in the mess, yet. The first was Morgan.
Cutting the head of the snake might have been enough to stop the conflict in any case, but in the light of what Daria had shared, she was certain it would.
“What are we waiting for?” Erik asked; he didn’t sound impatient, just curious.
“Where were you yesterday, during the meeting?”
“Looking at you. It’s distracting.”
She’d tell him what was distracting: his hand. It was on her thigh, immobile, but definitely noticeable.
“I need a location on the prick. He’s an old, powerful man. That means I could use the surprise effect.”
“And then, you kill him?”
She just shrugged.
“What makes you think that you can take a life?”
Because she had.
She’d only killed a man once, and he’d thoroughly deserved it; she’d never regretted it. The only thing that she regretted was not having the guts to admitting to it. It would have meant judgment – an actual court that could have sent her behind bars forever, this time. The chances might have been in her favor, if it hadn’t been a King she’d murdered.
But she’d never said a word, not even when the entire continent had fallen apart because of it.
Why should she confess now, to him, who already judged her so harshly?
Because it’s been on your shoulder everyday and you want to?
“I’ve killed before, Erik. A man just like Morgan. I haven’t lost sleep over it, yet.”
He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push.
For some reason, though, the amber eyes were more efficient than any truth serum.
She was opening her mouth, all but ready to spill her guts, when the song started; she jumped up and legged it out of the cabin without another word.
Close call.
Daria’s voice commended the seas loud and clear, with enough force to make her father’s wall fall, for a minute, but the effect it had on mers was more incredible yet.
They’d been fighting, in the sense that there had been a lot of kicking, punching, throwing spears, and sparring involved, but no human had been fatally – or even seriously – harmed yet.
The generals had worked it out a while ago and ordered that only mers actually seen murdering their people could be killed.
It had been a play. The instant the elder princess called to her people, they all simultaneously disarmed, saluted and bowed.
The nonsense about the Atlantians considering her as their legitimate ruler was more and more stupid. Their Queen was Daria, that was blatantly obvious.
“You!”
The man shouting in the distance sounded pathetic to her ears.
>
She committed him to memory as best she could. He was the man Silvia was here for, her pray.
“I will remember you, daughter!”
The next second, he was jumping in the ocean.
Silvia prepared to leap, but a pair of arms fasted around her, keeping her in place.
“Leave it alone. He has nothing now.”
Chapter 16: Settling.
They won.
It was a bittersweet victory, as Morgan had fled, and Silvia didn’t have the satisfaction of beating up anyone, saved for Alena.
The plan had been to banish her, but she resisted, and in her infinite stupidity, attempted to use her voice.
Silvia wasn’t affected, but everyone else in the immediate vicinity was suffering.
Drake brought an end to it, spitting a little ball of waterfire to the stupid creature, who was reduced to a mushy layer of sea foam.
She couldn’t pretend to be sorry.
There would have be reasons to celebrate, if Morgan hadn’t disappeared along with Vanessa. The sisters were certain she’d been taken with him.
His youngest daughter might have been one of the only people Silvia had ever hated, but she didn’t deserve a fate with a father – a man – such as him.
No one did.
“Why the long face?”
She’d spent most of the evening avoiding Erik. It had been easy, since Seb had been back, and had had a lot of things to tell her, but she knew she’d had to get it over with, so instead of hiding in her room, tonight, she’d stayed in the family lounge after the child had gone to bed.
Being here felt weird. Domestic. She’d be gone in the morning, but she knew she’d better give a couple of explanations to him beforehand, because if she didn’t, he’d look into what she said, and eventually, he’d figure it out himself.
“Tired, I supposed.” A long yawn did punctuate that. “And disappointed.”