A Vow of Thorns (Blackest Gold Book 3)

by R. Scarlett

  The prince’s nostrils flared, but instead, he laughed again. “Her pussy must be platinum gold to keep a beast. Perhaps another maiden will let me between her thighs tonight,” the prince muttered, a sick grin warming his lip. He turned, leaving them alone, but Tensley wasn’t calm.

  “Tensley,” Molly whispered after a moment of his snarls and pants. She stroked his shaking bicep, the muscles straining.

  He glanced down at her white dress, ruined with dirt and torn, exposing her upper thighs. Now there was just a mere two pieces of fabric concealing her beautiful figure.

  “All I smell is him,” he bit out, turning to face her.

  Her eyes widened at his dark eyes, at his contorted features.

  He grabbed her wrist and yanked her, so she melded to his tall frame, letting her feel his thickening arousal.

  She gasped at his quickness, at his violent urges, but blushed.

  Because she wanted him just as much.

  “The sick bastard,” he hissed. “My beast is warring inside of me. He wants you. He wants to claim you all over again.” He swept the veil to the side, letting his teeth drag along her neck, then to the tops of her breast, nipping once, so she cried out. “To think another man touched you—” He growled, rubbing himself on her. He wanted his scent deep within her pores.

  She shook her head. “I didn’t let him touch me. I fought back.”

  He pressed his forehead to her lacy, veil covered one and gripped her cheeks. “I want you to mark me. I need it,” he bit.

  Molly froze, and then pulled the veil back, revealing her beautiful features contorted in confusion. Her blue eyes wide and wild, her cheeks rosy from running, and her lips begging him to swell them. “Mark you?”

  “Mark me so every single beast, every single woman here knows I’m claimed. Knows my body and my sinful soul belong to only you,” he said, his hands lowering to her hips to anchor her against him. He let her feel the throb of his cock in his trousers, and he saw the moment she felt it, her cheeks flushing, but her eyes grew hungry with want.

  His dolcezza craved him, maybe as much as he craved her.

  “But Tensley,” she whispered, toying with his collar. “I can’t mark you.”

  He raised her hands to his thirsty mouth, licking each finger. “Then mark me with these.”

  She swallowed thickly, watching as he licked the final pinkie. With sex heavy in the air, the cries of pleasure urging his beast forward, he could tell Molly felt the need to be beneath him, or above him, as long as it meant having him inside of her. Deep and hard.

  She licked her lips slowly and leaned closer. “Are you ready to be claimed, Tensley?”

  He roared, the blood rushing to his thickening length, and he picked her up, cupping her ass cheeks and laid her down, his thighs spreading hers apart.

  He yanked down his pants, his hardness jolting free, and he fisted himself, pulling her dress up to expose her own wetness.

  “Claim me, Molly,” he hissed, lowering himself so the angry crown of his head slid against her entrance.

  Her nails dug into his shoulder blades.

  “Claim the beast and the man, and I’m yours.” He thrust deep inside of her, groaning at the tightness, the blissful clench of her around him, and he caught her gasping mouth with his.

  Sucking.

  Nipping.

  Devouring.

  “Yes,” she cried, her nails dragging deep, hard so they broke flesh.

  “I’m fucking yours. This cock, this body, this soul—all fucking yours, dolcezza,” he rasped out, sliding in and out at a painful rhythm. Her breasts bulged in her dress, trapping in the tight white fabric of innocence. Innocence he had devoured and taken.

  Her golden locks spread across the forest floor, tangled in leaves, grass, and dirt, a beauty of nature and strength.

  Her nails crept into his loose trousers, digging into his clenching ass cheeks.

  Their bodies meshed together in a fury of rage and beauty, the beast taking the angel, the darkness consuming the light, and all blended into one chaotic beauty.

  “If I had a heart,” he whispered darkly, her piercing eyes finding his in the heavy fog of desire and heat, “it’d be yours.”

  Her eyes glowed at that, her parted mouth panting loudly into his shoulder. The rush of pleasure and pain, her bare ass hitting the forest floor, and her soft skin crashing into his hard, rippling muscles.

  She was the sun, and he was the darkness of the sky.

  “Tensley,” she moaned his name like a prayer, like a curse and warning, and he wanted to hear her say it over and over again. Each night he bed her, he wanted to hear her panting his name like a promise.

  “Come on my cock, dolcezza,” he demanded, angling so his pelvis bone rubbed against her clit.

  Her features contorted in pleasure, and her fingers burned into his rear, drawing blood, drawing a roar from him as he came. He pulled out, his essence shooting across her ivory, flat stomach in long ropes of pleasure. His scent coating hers.

  He held himself above her, their chests warring against each other as they caught their breath. Sweat pooled on his upper lip, and he wiped it away, watching the sweat roll down her temple and into the golden curls.

  She glanced up at him, her eyes tired but warm. And soft. A look of pure bliss, of peace and surrender.

  A look a demon should never see.

  A look he should not return.

  He stood, yanking his trousers back up and helped Molly to her feet.

  She looked at her fingers, stained with his blood, and she paled.

  He grinned. “Looks like you marked me good.”

  She fought back a smile and scowled at him.

  He noted her bare feet, dirty and swollen, and he scooped her up, her arms automatically wrapping around his neck.

  She leaned her head against his cheek and kissed him there.

  They walked in silence, a thousand things he wanted to say to her stayed trapped within his raging chest.

  A beast should never feel such tender things for another.

  He was doomed.

  TENSLEY stood with his hands behind his back, eyeing the lines of soldiers coated in gold gleaming armor, of pride and power, of blood and victory.

  The lethal army of the High Court would be under his thumb.

  Fallen cleared his throat. “Do they meet your approval?” He smiled as if he knew the answer.

  The demons were born warriors, skilled and sharpened by pain and battle. In a smaller court in the south regions, children were born simply to become warriors one day for Fallen’s army. They were taken from their mothers after six months and sold to him, chained in the northern mountains. Their bodies battled harsh storms, and because of that, they didn’t feel the pain as others did.

  Tensley hummed his response, voice too hoarse from last night and lack of sleep. Molly wanted more of him, and he didn’t complain.

  He’d stay between her legs as long as possible.

  From the lack of sleep and last night’s stunt to sabotage their relationship, he wasn’t in a pleasant mood. Grumpy as fuck.

  “You,” Fallen’s voice boomed, pointing his thin long finger covered in gold rings at one of the soldiers below. They stood on the balcony that overlooked a port in the distance, large ships anchored in the bay, but a tall wall of white stone surrounded the castle from any outsiders stepping foot inside. The soldiers stood on flat slabs of limestone carved with delicate swirls.

  The soldier, identical to the others, stepped forward, his posture too straight for a man, his head perfectly forward, and an expression of obedience and strength sketched across him.

  “Your commander finds you unworthy,” Fallen said, his voice rising to one of disappointment.

  Tensley glanced at him, unsure what he was planning.

  “Punish yourself for that.”

  Tensley clenched his hands, watching as the soldier didn’t even pause and sliced his forearm wide open, blood spilling onto his armor and his
feet, painting the pure white slab red.

  The solder still poised for obedience stared ahead.

  Fallen turned to Tensley again, an eerie smile there now. A smile testing him on not to fight him. “Do they satisfy you now?”

  “Yes,” he said his focus on the soldiers rather than the crazy king.

  “Then I’ll leave them in your capable hands,” Fallen said and turned.

  Tensley was tempted to tell Fallen to warn his darling son to keep his hands to his self, but he swallowed his insult and narrowed his eyes at the soldier.

  He was trained to fight, but he wasn’t trained to lead an army of beasts.

  “Step up,” he demanded to another soldier. Although this soldier was shorter, his muscles gleamed as a threat when he made his way up to Tensley.

  He lowered to one knee and bowed his head.

  Tensley stared down at him, seeing the ugly deep gashes along his weathered skin. But all these men wore their scars like trophies.

  They survived.

  Their opponents had not.

  “I wasn’t trained to be a warrior, I didn’t grow up here,” he told the soldiers in a loud, commanding voice. He didn’t understand if this was another one of Fallen’s sick games to play with him, but he’d show the king an army of beasts. “I’ve never had to command an army. But I will prove my worth. I will show you that I’m capable. Stand,” he commanded.

  The soldier did as he was told and stood, his expression cold stone.

  “What’s your name?”

  “We do not carry a name, Lord,” the soldier answered firmly. His gaze looked past him, and that bothered Tensley.

  “Look at me,” he snapped.

  The man hesitantly turned his gaze to him. Vivid blue eyes so contrasting to his tanned, scarred skin.

  “You will be my eyes and ears. If your men need something, tell me. If they step out of line, tell me. Do I make myself clear?”

  The soldier’s jaw wavered, but he nodded. A first sign he was more man than bone and flesh.

  “My name’s Rune,” he said, and Tensley’s gaze snapped to him.

  “Then let’s begin, Rune.”

  THE SUNLIGHT flooded Molly’s eyes as the sheer curtains blew in the breeze.

  The spot where Tensley laid beside her was empty, and she sat up, the covers pooling to reveal cuts and bruises from the hunt the night before.

  She hissed at the pain of her blacked soles as she stood, grabbing a silky housecoat left by her bed. She still felt the pain in her feet from running barefoot, and her ribs were slightly bruised from the corset, but Tensley took care of that by kissing her over and over.

  She turned, glaring into the sun rays seeping into the grand bedroom. A bedroom of gold and white, of elegance and class. Everything looked too pure, too precious to touch. The bed frame was made of gold brass, a canopy of lace draped along each side, trapping them in a hidden world—not seen by the sun or the moon.

  Molly traced the bite marks along her collarbone and tops of her breasts, remembering how beautifully savage Tensley had been in the forest.

  She touched her bruised lips and turned to the window, stepping closer.

  It was here she took in the landscape of the High Court. Forests went on for miles surrounding the castle walls, on the right side a bay of white ships, and the water going on forever. She still couldn’t believe she was here, in this place, so foreign, so familiar but different.

  A nightmare disguised as a beautiful world.

  “My lady,” a voice called to her.

  Molly jolted, her hands balling into fists.

  A girl—perhaps a year younger than herself, stood in front of her in a simple pale pink dress, her hair pulled back into a tight bun.

  Her innocent eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Molly calmed her breathing. “Just didn’t expect someone to come in.”

  The girl gestured to the bed. “I’m here to dress you.”

  Molly frowned. “To dress me?”

  She nodded, moving to the dresser. “Lady Lilith has requested your presence at the garden for tea with her ladies in waiting.”

  Of course.

  The woman who put her son’s scent on her so he could find her during the hunt.

  The prince had almost taken her in the demon’s sick game of coming of age. But the girls wanted to be caught and bedded.

  She forced a smile. “Perfect. Let’s get started.”

  Lilith’s welcoming grin was a tortuous thorn in Molly’s side as she stood in front of her. She curtsied, bowing her head, and lifting the corner of her blue gown of lace and sheer.

  With each gaze, Molly’s skin tingled. Worry gripped her throat. Worry that someone would sense she was carrying Tensley’s child out of wedlock.

  But Molly forced herself to smile back as if nothing was wrong.

  The garden was filled with color—lilies, roses—every flower found under the sun. The plants consumed everything in its path. The white iron chairs they sat in had vines crawling up their legs and over the back of the chair.

  “Thank you for joining us,” Lilith said. Her attention went back to the chess game they were playing. She delicately picked up the king with two manicured fingers and moved it across the board.

  The girl that was her opponent, a pale brunette, paled even further.

  “I’m honored you invited me amongst your ladies in waiting,” Molly said, politely with a soft smile of venom.

  “I heard you met my son last night.”

  Molly’s smile faltered, panic shooting through her body. Did she know she was the one who gave him a scratch?

  “He seemed quite fond of you. It takes a lot to win my son over,” she said, her eyes still focusing on the game. A few ladies exchanged curious glances at the mention of their prince.

  “I wasn’t aware I was going to the hunt,” Molly spoke firmly.

  Lilith glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, no? I could have sworn I mentioned it.”

  Molly simply stared, waiting for more, waiting for an explanation, but she didn’t get one. “I’m engaged to Tensley.”

  “Yes, I know. A handsome man, very cunning. It appeared the women loved his presence last night. They were all over him.”

  Molly’s temper boiled.

  “Please feel free to relax with us,” Lilith said, signaling the end of discussion.

  Molly wasn’t done, but she wasn’t going to cause a scene in front of highborn ladies.

  No, she’d wait until Lilith was by herself.

  She moved to a chair further back, sitting down gently, cringing when the chair reminded her of how bruised her body still was. Not from the hunt, but from Tensley.

  “I see you enjoyed the hunt last night,” a girl beside her said, biting back a smile as she read a book.

  A familiar voice.

  Her dark brown hair was braided into one thick braid that hung over her shoulder. She wore a pale blue dress, similar to Molly’s—tight from the corset, hips extended, and bosoms full.

  “Prim,” the girl supplied, closing her book. A scarf of white wrapped around her slender neck.

  Molly smiled, remembering the girl from before the hunt. But now she knew what had happened in the hunt, and her heart broke for her. “Are you all right?”

  Prim’s pleasant smile fractured, and she glanced over at the other women and Lilith. She swallowed. “It was fine.”

  “I wasn’t aware it was going to be like that,” Molly added after a moment.

  Prim’s eyes widened. “You didn’t know?”

  Molly shook her head. “Thankfully, my fiancé showed up.”

  “Aw, I’ve heard stories of you and Mr. Knight,” she gushed, her voice turning dreamy. “That would have been sweet.”

  But how had Prim’s night been in the hunt? Was the man who found her cruel? Rough? Molly’s stomach dropped. “And how was yours?”

  Prim’s eyes darted to the girls again, and she stood, gesturing for Molly to join her. Molly
stood and followed Prim further into the garden, away from the rest of the women but still in sight.

  Prim plucked a petal off a rose and smoothed it out as she walked. “It—it was my first time,” she whispered. “It hurt, but he—he was gentle.” Molly could sense Prim wanted to say more, that she was holding something inside.

  “But you didn’t care about him,” Molly said, and instantly regretted it. It wasn’t her business.

  “That’s the problem though,” Prim said, squeezing her eyes shut. “I do care about him.”

  Molly frowned. “But you just met him.”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid I did something awful. Something shameful last night,” she started with her voice low and filled with mixed emotions. “I—I was not thinking properly…the hunt has a way of making people do things they would usually never allow themselves to even think of doing. Emotions and primal needs are high, and reason loses its charm for the course of a night.”

  Prim sighed, her eyes briefly finding Molly’s before returning to the ground, deep in her own thoughts. A shy, secret smile appeared at the corners of her lips.

  “And I was so elated to see it was him who had found me. Oh, my lady, I always liked him. For so long now, I have longed for this moment, for his touch and his passion. Words can’t express how happy I was to see him come for me, how many times I’ve dreamt of this, about him finding me, capturing me during the hunt,” she continued, her cheeks turning a slight shade of pink at the last part as she laughed timidly behind her hand. Her expression changed quickly as a deep crease appeared between her thick brows. “But I made a mistake. I didn’t think about it twice and took off my veil. We are never, ever, supposed to take our veils off during the hunt, my lady. But I did, and I shouldn’t have because it makes everything so much more complicated now, and it’s entirely my fault. “

  Molly stared at Prim, watching the girl struggle with deep emotions warring inside of her tiny body. She didn’t fully understand what the girl was talking about, but she recognized someone who needed to talk when she saw one.

  “Why was it a mistake, Prim? What happened? Surely, taking your veil off can’t be that big of a crime, can it?” Molly asked with what she hoped was a reassuring smile on her lips.