Reining Him In (Chinese Zodiac Romance Series Book 5)

by Rachael Slate

  Hmm. The male carried the spirit animal of the Horse. He was a Chosen, and as such, far more difficult to break than a human male. She ought to applaud Chenda.

  His ties to the Jade Emperor meant the threat of his actions was low, yet he’d seized an aggressive step forward, indeed, by venturing to her palace. Still, of all her enemies, he was at the bottom of the list. “Yes?”

  “We’ve interrogated him and confirmed the leads we’ve been following. Also, we’ve encountered some rather useful information. Knowledge which might lead us to a solution.”

  The answer to saving their dying race?

  “Indeed?” Hope pinched her heart. This was the first glimmer of good news she’d had in a very long time.

  “Mr. Wentworth has established quite a reputation for himself, one we were not aware ran so deep, or reached so far. Among the realm of the Jade Emperor, many regard him as an authority figure for our race.”

  “Ha!” Daji laughed. “That’s preposterous.”

  “Yet true.” Chenda’s tone iced. “Many consider him your spokesperson. Whether he has implied this or others have done so for him, there is no arguing Mr. Wentworth’s status. Which leads us into a rather difficult situation.”

  “What is so difficult?” She swiped her hand through the air, cutting off Chenda’s concerns. “Correct them. No one leads my people other than myself.”

  “A Queen no one in the outside realms has contact with?”

  “By your suggestion.” Daji stiffened. “We decided together that not disclosing my weakened state would be for the benefit of everyone.” Outrage fired through her veins. A blend of hopelessness and indignation. She’d avoided the other realms and taken to seclusion to save them from rumors. Apparently, doing so had fired different ones.

  “Many already believe he is acting in your stead.”

  Why hadn’t they told her this? She would’ve made every effort to appear as she once had. Strong. Powerful. She would have worn the guise as long as her people needed her to.

  “It matters not. What is important is that you must not show weakness. Until we can resolve this, your people must trust in your strength. So many have fallen because they are fearful of the future. Do not give them cause to abandon us entirely.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “What are you proposing?”

  “Take a mate, my Queen. A Consort to act on your behalf and embody the strength you cannot.”

  Bile rose in her throat. The image of her former husband’s grimy hands wrapped around her neck squeezed the air from her lungs. She’d vowed never to mate again. How dare the Council ask this of her?

  “One whom your people already trust; one whom your enemies fear.”

  She seized in a breath as comprehension of what her advisor suggested flushed into her mind. Oh no. They did not mean—

  “Mr. Wentworth. He will be the ultimate pawn in our hand, my Queen. Seize this opportunity whilst you have the strength.”

  The Elders rarely lowered their cloaked hoods, and Daji was accustomed to not observing their expressions, but this one time, she was desperate to view whether the woman had gone mad.

  She blinked away her shock. Mate Mr. Wentworth? That vile, unscrupulous fiend and womanizer?

  Absolutely never. She set her shoulders. Disobeying her Council was not something she did, but this was a desperate matter. “No, I will not.” She might be determined to save her people, but even she wasn’t as desperate as to mate him.

  “I’m afraid, my Queen, you have no choice. We have decided. Best to prepare yourself for the ceremony.” She strode toward the door, and spoke over her shoulder. “It is a strategic move. No different from many highborn matches. Besides, this union does not have to be permanent, or consummated.”

  “Chenda?”

  “The male possesses information which may aid in the survival of our race, yet he might not always prove so useful.” She twisted the knob and from within that darkened hood, gleaming eyes sparkled. “We are an ancient race, permeated by many traditions and rituals. If you do not wish to complete your union with this male, make one up.”

  ***

  Price whistled low at the giggling fox spirits filing into the chamber. This was more like it. After that grave misunderstanding with the Queen and the dungeon and whatnot, the head guru Chenda had placed him in this lush suite instead. A chamber cloaked in rich burgundy drapes, graced with a massive four-poster bed, and darkly accented hardwood framing the cool gray stone walls.

  The bevy of chambermaids surrounding him was the icing. “Why, hello, ladies.” He winked at one, who tugged her ruby bottom lip between her teeth and slid her palms along his shirt.

  One by one, she plucked his buttons undone.

  He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. These four females were lovely, lithe fox spirits, just as he liked them, but inside, something was off.

  He wasn’t getting aroused. Huh?

  They spun him around, tearing at his clothes until he posed buck naked in front of them. The hot ladies gave him appreciative smiles, soft murmuring sighs of approval escaping them as their gazes swept his hair-free, care-free body. Being naturally smooth themselves, húli jīng tended to prefer their sexual partners in the same style.

  He flashed them a wicked grin, conveying he discerned everything their species liked. The maids’ laughter chimed, and normally, he’d sample them, but as he regarded each of them, he couldn’t pick.

  Which one to pursue first?

  The darker brunette acted the most outgoing, but her lips didn’t look as soft as…fuck.

  Hell no. He hadn’t gone there, had he? Blinking, he stepped forward, slipping one arm around the brunette’s waist. He bent and inhaled, and…shit.

  His throat tightened. Dammit, no, he would kiss this female.

  “My lord.” She pressed a palm to his chest. “Would you follow us?”

  “Uh, sure,” he answered, throat tight. He trailed behind the maids, who peeked at him every few seconds, then giggled some more. What’s wrong with me? Usually, he’d shoot them a wink or two and a grin that promised their every naughty desire fulfilled.

  They led him to a tub, steam rolling from the surface in fragranced tendrils. He sniffed and traces of jasmine filled his nostrils.

  “If you would, my lord.” The darker brunette beckoned him into the water. Shrugging, he stepped in, sank into the warm liquid, and leaned back. Small, feminine hands swooped everywhere on his body, the maids scrubbing with soaped sponges.

  “All clean,” one murmured in his ear.

  Now time to get dirty teetered on the edge of his tongue. He rose and let them towel him off.

  “She’s waiting for you, my lord.”

  “Uh, who?” Most of the time, he wasn’t particular.

  “The Queen.”

  He coughed into his fist to mask his confusion.

  “Follow us.” The maidens filed out of the chamber. He scanned the room, but there wasn’t so much as a curtain to cover himself with. Oh well.

  Shaking his head, he trailed the females. The corridor was empty except for the blue flash of a maiden’s skirts as she turned the corner. He didn’t have a modest bone in his body, so Price strode down the hall after them, stark naked. Whatever this game, he’d learn the purpose behind it.

  The perfume of floral incense wafted from around the corner. He was about to head left, but a cloaked figure stepped forward from the archway on the right. “Mr. Wentworth, follow me, if you will.” Chenda. The same one who’d questioned him earlier and ordered the Queen around. Whoever she was, this female held a high rank.

  He twisted to the side and squinted at the hooded figure, but didn’t sense any emotion from her. “What’s this about?” He folded his arms across his chest in intimidation and stared her down, hoping his nudity didn’t lessen his presence. Fox spirits weren’t modest either, but was this creature in front of him a typical fox spirit?

  “I have a proposal for you, Mr. Wentworth.”

&n
bsp; This formality made him sound like a principal. No one called him anything other than Price, well, outside of the bedroom.

  “Shoot.”

  “You have orders from the Matchmaker to ensure the safety of the Queen.”

  “Yeah, and clearly, she’s fine.” He shuffled his feet. The crisp draft in this corridor was chilling his ass.

  “No, she is not.” Chenda slid one step forward. “I have heard about you, and I’m aware you seek information from within my people.”

  On edge, he narrowed his eyes. He’d been damned careful about whom he questioned and how.

  “What if I were to tell you I can procure your answers, if you first perform one small task?”

  Ha. Small. He tensed. Whatever she asked, it would be anything but small.

  “Mate the Queen.”

  Horse reared, knocking Price onto his ass. Pain shot up his spine, soothed by the cold marble. He jerked on those reins. Easy, Horse. Panting, he lifted his head to the female. “Yeah, as you can see, that’s not a possibility.”

  The female offered him a slender hand. Frowning, he accepted her aid to his feet, but as he rose, she didn’t release him. Instead, sharp claws bit into his wrist. He winced, but met her glower. “I am not asking, Mr. Wentworth. If you fathomed how vital this allegiance is to the survival of my race, you would not jest.” Her claws released. “Do you wish to settle your debt or not?”

  He fought to swallow, his throat was so thick. His entire life, ever since that cruel night, he’d searched for the truth, for a way to repay such a selfless act. The fox spirits were more than his chosen bed partners. He owed them his—and his brother’s—lives. It was a debt he’d doubted he would ever be able to square. “What do you mean, the Queen isn’t safe?”

  “We have enemies. Fearsome opponents who would seek our destruction. Adversaries with whom you have communicated.”

  Right. Natalie’s father, Xing. Recently, his ex-partner Nat and her current boyfriend, Kassian, had arranged a meeting with Xing as a cover to kill him. Price had pretended to attend the discussion on behalf of the Queen.

  “Your ruse did more than you anticipated. It passed a powerful message—that you perform a key role in our empire.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “If you do not mate our Queen, you will weaken her position and further the demise of our race. Is that what you wish, Mr. Wentworth?”

  “Damn, no.” He should’ve figured this game would have repercussions—dangerous ones.

  “Then clean up your mistakes and help save us. Mate our Queen.”

  He groaned and raked a hand through his damp hair. “I would love to, but no bloody way will Horse allow me to get hitched.”

  “Mated, Mr. Wentworth. Fox spirits do not marry, we mate. You will not become King, but you will assume the station of the Queen’s Consort, and her spokesperson—a position you’ve already presumed to occupy.” She tilted her head. “Do not fear. A mating is not a permanent union. You will not be tied to her forever.”

  Well, what could he say? He was already under orders to protect the Queen, and he’d waded into deep water with the Matchmaker about the vaccine incident—the vials that had gone missing under his watch. If he didn’t fulfill this mission to its completion, there might be more than hell for him to pay.

  Besides, mating wasn’t a permanent situation, so Horse shouldn’t have any objections. He rubbed his hands together. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

  “Follow me.” Satisfaction murmured in her tone as she wrenched open the doors behind her and waved him through.

  Horse pawed inside him. Not permanent, buddy.

  Not ideal, either, but he’d done far worse things in the name of the Lotus League. He blew out a deep wheeze, rolled his shoulders, and treaded through the double wooden doors. Hundreds of candles illuminated the small, round chamber. Their glow flickered off the dark stone walls. A row of cloaked figures formed a half circle on the far side of the room, and in the center, stood the Queen.

  Nude.

  Pain shot up his shin. He winced and bent to grip his leg. He’d strolled straight into a damn urn. Straightening, he raised his head, this time stepping around the large pottery and blowing out a low breath.

  He tried not to stare at her, but fuck. His concentration roamed to her like a boomerang. She was breathtaking. Literal, absolute perfection. Guess he shouldn’t be surprised, with her being Queen and all.

  Facing the wall, she held herself erect, with shoulders and spine rigidly straight. Her waist indented at the perfect angle, bestowing her hips a succulent flare to an ass that begged to be nipped and slapped. His palms itched as he followed the sensual flow of her curves. Her legs were toned, her feet slender. Her glossy, bronze hair had been parted in half and swept forward, the tips brushing past her waist, and unfortunately, covering her breasts. The rest of her was bared for devouring, though.

  She perched one hand on her hip and tensed as though trying not to peer over her shoulder. This was almost enjoyable, except he was forgetting one vital fact.

  She fucking hated his guts.

  Chenda floated in behind him, ushering him forward. He cleared his throat as he stepped to the Queen’s side, fighting opening his mouth to spew a joke and lighten the atmosphere. No one appeared in the mood. Faces somber, serious. Might as well be a funeral.

  “Bow.” Chenda extended her hand between him and the Queen.

  He crossed his arms. “Yeah, no thanks.”

  The hand dropped, claws curling into a fist. “You must bow before your Queen.”

  “Sorry, but I don’t kneel.” He paused, cocking his head. “Unless it’s between a woman’s thighs.”

  Why would he…? Dismissing his crude innuendo, Daji squeezed her eyes and calmed her breaths, but her heart pounded against her ribs in a threatening beat. She’d endured far worse than mating this rogue, yet those trials were pitifully difficult to recall after he’d sauntered into the room and the dark temptation of this male’s scent filled her nostrils.

  Worse, her skin flamed beneath his heated admiration. It had taken every ounce of her control not to spin around and lash him with a lethal reprimand. Whatever Chenda had disclosed to this male to make him agree to mate her, she’d better not have promised him Daji’s body.

  Because she’d rather burn on the pillar than share this man’s bed. Chenda may not be a woman to be crossed, but dammit, neither was Daji. She would keep this male at arm’s length.

  “Bow before your Queen, or you will kneel before the guillotine.” Chenda’s voice was pure ice.

  Muttered curses rumbled from the male’s chest as he dropped to his knees, facing her and bowing his head.

  “You may rise.” Leveling her stare with the wall behind him, she refused to glance downward.

  Tucking a loose strand of inky hair into the tie of his ponytail, he shifted his weight onto his feet.

  Moments later, the chanting began, the low feminine voices echoing off the stone walls. The beat drummed deep into Daji’s veins. The last time she’d participated in a union ceremony, the male who’d stood next to her…

  Don’t think about him. Opening her eyes, she squeezed her hands into fists. She didn’t know what kind of male Price Wentworth was, or whether he’d be the same as her previous husband, and she didn’t care.

  He would be out of her life the second she arranged it. Let him fulfill this task and once her people were safe, he would be gone.

  One way or another.

  He shuffled again, his hip bumping into hers. She inhaled sharply while he murmured low words that hinted of apology. From the corners of her lashes, she dared a peek at him. His sleek, muscled chest gleamed in the candlelight. She twisted her fingers into the ends of her hair as her fixation wandered lower. His sex, while thankfully not aroused, posed proudly, hanging long and thick between his large thighs. He’d obviously spent a great deal of time with her people, because his flesh was smooth and hairless.

  A great deal of time bedding her people.
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br />   Daji suppressed her disdain and faced forward once more. Nothing this male offered would tempt her. Unlike the others of her race, as Queen, she didn’t feed from the jīng—sexual energy—of human males. No, she required a much more powerful sustenance—qì—the essence of human lives.

  History named her a villain, a sadistic seductress with cruel preferences. The rumors weren’t true, but she’d never perceived the virtue of dispelling them. Queens should be feared. Precisely why this growing whisper of her weakness must be snuffed out.

  Even if it meant mating the rake beside her. Price Wentworth would be but one more pawn they must manipulate in order to survive.

  The chanting died, the last echoes fading into the stones. It was done. One by one, the Council glided from the chamber.

  “We are mated,” she murmured into the emptying room, and twisted to peer at her new mate.

  Vivid blue depths assessed her. Not her body, not the vulnerability of her nude state.

  My soul.

  He squinted at her, a question in the firm set of his jaw she didn’t wish to hear. She held her breath, but he blinked, and the intensity lifted. “Aren’t we supposed to kiss?” One thick brow arched.

  “No.” Her lashes lowered. His lips were firm, smooth. Masculine with an edge of hardness.

  “My Queen?”

  Damn, she’d been staring at his mouth. Far longer than was excusable.

  “Or should I call you ‘wife’ now?” The corner of his mouth curled in mischief.

  His jest slammed through her haze. “I poisoned my last husband. Are you certain you wish to claim the title?”

  His eyes jerked wide, the smile wiped from his mouth. Then his lips quirked. “Yeah? Well, I shot my last girlfriend.”

  She froze. Shot? Disregard and redirect. “I am not your wife. You are not my husband.” She’d never have a husband again. Never be so utterly ruled over. Her claws burrowed into the palms of her clenched fists. “We are mates. You are my Consort, and I am your Queen.” A tremor stirred through her veins and she struggled to calm it.

  “Sure. If that’s what you want to call it.” He lifted and dropped a shoulder, glancing around them. “Where is everyone?”