by Zoey Ellis
“I don’t know what the fuck your lover thought he was doing, but your pussy is so starved for sex,” he continued. “All I am doing is providing it with what it needs. It is a satisfactory situation for us both. I’m sure the other Omegas will appreciate that when you explain it to them.”
When he slipped a finger inside her, she lost all ability to respond. She humped her hips on his hand as he drove his finger in and out, his thumb flicking her clit. As she came, he sucked on her neck and growled as she shuddered, her legs becoming limp.
In the aftermath of her climax, a drowsiness overcame her, as well as a dark hopelessness. Her body betrayed her to him every time, and although she had agreed to his use of her, it was depressing to think how much control he had over her reactions, senses, and instincts.
The king sucked his fingers and then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, his nose pressed into her neck as he breathed her in. As he rumbled in satisfaction, she sighed at the feel of the vibration against her.
He lay her down in the bed and loomed over her, swathed in darkness. “Sleep well, chameleon,” he murmured, running a finger down the side of her face. “I have further plans for that pussy tomorrow.”
CHAPTER NINE
MALLORON
“I’m afraid I have bad news, Your Majesty,” Emric said, as Malloron sat down for their weekly meeting. It was one of the meetings he did not allow Amara to sit in on—that would have been ludicrous, obviously.
“I dislike bad news, Emric,” he said lightly. He was in such a good mood, he doubted that anything could break it. Such a mood was testament to good Omega pussy.
Emric shifted in his seat slightly, and Malloron could tell it was not going to be good. “Tell me.”
"Brecc has successfully organized a plan to overthrow you with the other rulers."
Malloron's jaw hardened. "What?"
"From what I gather, it has been in the planning stages for at least a year, but the battle with Emperor Drocco seems to have swayed more rulers to his way of thinking."
"And how exactly do they plan to overthrow the royal rule?" Malloron asked, his anger a hard ball in his chest.
"The idea is to pool their resources," Emric said nervously. "They intend to create a coven of Talent-crafters that will be under their control. They will each submit one Talent-crafter into this coven, they will all share knowledge and skills. The idea is that they will become more powerful if they share the knowledge."
"It will never work," Malloron said. "What happens when the Talent-crafters decide to no longer listen to them?”
“They discussed that and are looking into spells to prevent it from happening.”
Malloron shook his head. Idiots. They clearly had very little understanding of the Talent if they thought they could try to control Talent-crafters—the very ones they were giving license—to share spells and knowledge. It was likely they’d be running to him in the end to clean up their mess when the power went to their crafters’ heads. “And how do they expect the Talent-crafters to stay sane in such a situation?”
Every single Talent-crafter eventually went insane from using magic. The more they used it, and the more skilled they became, the quicker the insanity set in. The only reason why the royal rulers always avoided that fate was because of the tenebris, and absolutely no one knew about it.
“There was plenty of discussion about that in the Cleyanti meeting,” Emric said. “Some think they need to use child Talent-crafters so they don’t suffer the effects too quickly once they start sharing spells in the coven. Others feel that they should be making use of the experience of the Talent-crafters who are already established.”
“They are too suspicious of each other to trust each other's Talent-crafters."
"They each seemed very committed and passionate about the idea," Emric said. "They agreed to sign a contract that lays out each of their responsibilities."
Malloron thought for a long moment. "Were there any rulers who were not there or who were not keen on it?"
"None of the smaller territories were present. I also didn’t see any representation from Glansrech, the Della Mont Isles, or Khayola." He lifted a sheet of parchment. “I documented who was at which meeting.”
Malloron browsed the names. "So most of the powerful rulers are involved. When do they intend to start this coven?"
"They are currently in the stages of selecting their Talent-crafters," Emric replied hesitantly. "And they are also drafting the contract."
"Who is in charge of that?"
"Brecc."
Malloron nodded. It was likely that he would be in control of every aspect of this potential overthrow, but Brecc would not succeed. Not once the night of the dark moon arrived in two and a half weeks.
"What would you like me to do next, Your Majesty?" Emric asked.
"I want you to monitor Airey from Rucevale. Infiltrate his manor and find out exactly what he's doing at all times with regards to this particular issue."
"Yes, your Majesty, I already have a team prepared.”
“Good. Let’s talk about the performance of the chambers.”
***
At the beginning of their second week, as an early morning meeting ended, he turned to Amara. “Would you like a tour of the castle?” he asked pleasantly.
Since returning from the slave auction he had kept their fucking to her room only, but he had made use of every single apparatus available and taken her as often as he wanted, as many times as he wanted. And, in the midst of her euphoria, she not only complied but encouraged him; whimpering and gyrating her hips for his attention, running her hands over him, and mumbling nonsensically. He found himself addicted to those moments, particularly when she uttered his name.
Amara stilled at his offer, eyeing him cautiously. “That would be appreciated, Your Majesty.”
Malloron gestured to the door and allowed her to exit first. There was a gap until their next meeting, and although he was tempted to fuck her again, he knew he would be doing so at noon break. In the meantime, he wanted her close. She looked stunning today, dressed in a rose gown that accentuated her curves to a sharp degree, and she piled that thick, black hair on top of her head. “I noticed you have not been able to make it back to the servants’ area despite your many efforts.”
She did not reply, but he stifled a grin at the sight of her stiffening back.
As they strolled along the corridor she found her voice. “Does that mean you will assist me back to the servants’ area?”
“No. There are much more interesting places in the castle you should see.”
She made a small noise in the back of her throat. “I agree, though I doubt you will consent to me seeing them.”
“Do you have somewhere specific in mind?”
She didn’t answer for a long moment. “I will defer to your judgment, Your Majesty.”
He took her to the art sector, where each gallery displayed collections from different regions and generations. As he explained them, he found every excuse to touch her; her back, her shoulder, her elbow. At one point, he held her hand, before she moved away to examine a sculpture.
He was pleased to see she seemed fascinated by art and questioned him about some of the more abstract pieces, particularly the ones by an artist from Madis. She stared at them for a long time, stepping closer and closer until she could touch it.
“What do you like about them?” he asked, intrigued by her fascination.
She tilted her head, keeping her eyes on the painting and frowning as she considered her answer. “It is as though there is more to see the more you look. What is on the surface is not the true image.”
He smiled at her answer. She had just described herself. “The rarest pieces from this artist are indeed like that. They are extremely valuable.”
“Is he still alive? Does he still create work?”
“It is a she,” Malloron replied. “And yes she does. She visits my pleasure chambers every month and sometim
es brings new art.”
And just like that the spell was broken. Amara moved on to another collection without another word.
After the galleries, they visited the theater house and he introduced her to the royal company who entertained many of his visitors. They were keen to show her a snippet from their latest performance piece, but the meeting was starting soon and he had other places he had the urge to show her, especially now that he’d seen her appreciation for art.
“Would you truly like to see their rehearsal or were you humoring them?” Malloron asked as they made their way back to the meeting room.
Amara lifted her shoulders. “It would be interesting.”
Malloron nodded. “Then we will go tomorrow.”
He took her across the sector past his casting rooms. Emric mentioned finding her around the sector before, but he didn’t know if it was purposeful or not. “There are plenty of casting rooms here, if you wish to see them,” he mentioned casually.
Amara glanced at him. “What are casting rooms?”
Her question indicated she was either not from the Western Lands, or she was unfamiliar with the setup of most upper-class houses.
“They are rooms to experiment with magic,” Malloron answered.
Amara nodded. “Rooms where you come up with all your spells and gestures? I thought that was dangerous.”
“Usually it is,” Malloron said. “But sometimes danger is worth the risk for something great, don’t you agree?”
Amara kept her head forward and didn’t react. “Some dangers are never worth it.”
“If we were all kept safe and sheltered we would never have anything of true value. Or true beauty.”
“Or any true devastation,” she added.
“They seem to be attached to each other,” Malloron agreed.
“Not always,” she murmured. She cleared her throat. “I don’t need to see those rooms today. Maybe another day.”
When they arrived at the royal suite, she took some time scrutinizing the portraits of members of his family and the artifacts the Visant line had discovered and created over the years.
“You had such a big family,” she murmured. “How come it’s only you now?”
Malloron stiffened at her question. “The family is still big. I am just the only one who lives in Eiros Castle.”
She turned to him. “Yes, but why?”
“Because I am the heir.”
She stared at him but he couldn’t judge the meaning behind her expression.
“You are the oldest?”
“No.”
“So how is it decided?”
Malloron was silent for a moment, as he wondered how much he should tell her. He already brought her to visit the sector that had the history of his family and the fact he felt compelled to was strange enough. He still didn’t know enough about her to disclose anything important, but she was his now. She would have to know everything eventually.
“I had the right type of blood and an aptitude for the Talent.”
Her brows furrowed. “The right type of blood? For what?”
To hold the tenebris.
Of course he couldn’t say that. At least not right now. “The right kind of disposition to successfully rule.”
She made a huffing noise in her throat.
“The royal seat of Eiros cannot be given to someone who is unable to do what it takes to keep it thriving,” he said, walking to the portrait of his great grandfather. “It doesn’t mean they don’t have other skills or uses, but the Visant legacy must be protected at all costs.”
“But you have no heirs. How are you going to make sure it continues to thrive?”
Malloron glanced at her. “I don’t intend to give up the throne until it is no longer under threat.” He bit his tongue, shocked at what he had just revealed. What the fuck was wrong with him? “Anyway, enough about the throne,” he said, turning to her abruptly and not giving her a chance to respond. “Tell me about Ricker.”
To her credit, she didn’t flinch. “Who?”
“The boy you spent time with as a servant.”
She shrugged and turned to look at the Visant family tree. “I don’t recall anyone with that name.”
Malloron almost chuckled. She was good. “Oh, I thought he was your friend. Good thing you were not attached to him.”
She turned slowly. “What do you mean?”
“He is no longer working at the castle.”
She turned back to the painting. Malloron watched the very slight battle she waged with herself. She wanted to ask but she would put her friend at risk if she did. From his years of studying people, the tiny signals—to him at least—were obvious. After a long hesitation, she strolled over to the other side of the room. He was impressed.
He followed her, unable to stop himself asking the next question. “Is your lover not a servant like you?”
She didn’t answer.
He stood behind her, a tightness growing in his chest. He had to know.
He leaned in, brushing his lips against her ear. “If you have a lover, I’m sure he would not wish to hear how you moan for me, how you plead for my cock, how you rotate those hips to keep me inside you, how your slick begins to drip just hearing me unbuckling my pants.” Her shoulders stiffened, her chest rising rapidly as he stood over her. “If you have a lover, I can assure you, he will no longer satisfy you. Not like I do.”
Amara spun round, locking him with a steel gaze. “You use my body as part of our agreement. It is part of an exchange. You cannot compare yourself to any lover I chose to have for pleasure. In two and a half weeks, our agreement will be over, and you will simply be just like any other merchant I did business with.”
Deep displeasure coursed through him and he almost growled. The idea was highly offensive, but of course she did not know that she would never be leaving this castle. He resisted the urge to grab her, to have his hands on her for his own peace of mind. “So you do not have a lover.”
Amara’s gaze narrowed. “Why are you so fixated on it?”
Malloron forced himself to shrug as casually as possible, unable to help his mocking tone. “I would hate to feel I am getting in the way of two people destined to be together.”
“It wouldn’t stop you from making use of me, though, would it?” she snarled.
“No.” Slipping an arm around her waist, he turned her back to face the painting. “But the knowledge would certainly make me desperately unhappy.”
“You’re a fucking animal,” she spat over her shoulder. “You enjoy making others suffer. I’m not giving you any information about anyone who is dear to me.”
Malloron smiled. He leaned forward and ran his nose up the back of her neck, scenting her for that faint aroma. “Right now, the only person who should be dear to you is me,” he murmured as he began to undo the lace of her corset tied at her back. “And I am still your fucking king. Do not forget it.”
As he undressed her, he wove magic from around them and created a portal back to her bedroom. He pulled her through the cool sheen of colorful magic and took her straight to the bench.
By the time the next meeting was supposed to be starting, he was ramming into her, groaning as he came deep inside. He squeezed her ass, loving the way it filled his hands, and loving even more the sound of her guttural moan when he did it. He withdrew, noting once again that the base of his cock had swollen slightly. It had been happening since he first started to fuck her, and he didn’t take much notice of it then. In fact, it was actually something that felt quite pleasurable inside her, particularly when she squeezed down on him when she came. When he realized it was a constant occurrence, he sought out some further information in his temple, and was reminded in a few of the books about the Alpha knot. At the point of orgasm, the base of an Alpha’s cock would swell to lock him with the Omega’s pussy so that sperm could not escape. Alphas only ever knotted with Omegas, so he’d never experienced it before. Clearly it proved she was an Omega. What he didn�
��t understand was why the knot was only partially swollen. Maybe because she was still somehow blocking her Omega signals. Maybe that was also the reason why he could only get that faint whiff of her true, delicious scent.
He stepped backward, watching her as she hung over the bench, limp and exhausted, her legs splayed showing him her well-fucked, pink, and dripping pussy. That raw desperation to keep her came over him again and he instinctively pulled on the magic in the room. Using his will to weave the magic together, he threaded it through her hair and reinforced the existing beacon. The pulse in his hand began to throb stronger and a soothing satisfaction spread through him, calming his nerves. No matter where she went in the entire Western Lands, he would always be able to find her. It gave him peace of mind that if she were ever to find her way out of the castle, he would not be without her for long. It no longer mattered where she went in the castle, she would not be leaving.
“Have you finished, Your Majesty?” she spat out in his direction.
He smiled at the strength of her tone, even though she was still catching her breath.
“Why yes, I have,” he said finishing up buckling his pants. “I look forward to our next encounter.”
He released her wrists and left the room, to find Emric hovering outside.
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” Emric said, somewhat frantically. “It’s just you’re due to be in a meeting with Duke Ainmire.”
“Yes, I know,” Malloron said, striding down the corridor. “He can wait for a bit. I want you to collect all of the slaves that worked closely with Jayleen.”
Emric hesitated. “What should I do with them, Your Majesty.”
“Keep them detained.”
“Are they to join the dungeons?”
Malloron thought for a moment. “Not yet. Just keep them away from the rest of the servants and do not allow them access to each other.”