by R. Scarlett
Fallen rubbed at his mouth and coughed, and Tensley watched as the king’s hand shook.
Suddenly, a high, vicious laugh escaped from Fallen’s throat, the sound making Tensley’s skin crawl. “Oh, but were you trying to make me feel weak, little daemon? I see you believed you had gotten to me,” he said, a false rueful smile twisting his lips. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for a man I am not,” he whispered mockingly, a manicured hand to the side of his mouth. “You were right. I have been a fool once, in another era. But that man ceased to exist long, long ago. In his place, a monster was born, and that monster learned from his mistakes. He memorized the smell of betrayal so he would never be fooled again. I do not fear the members of my court or even my own wife. I sensed their betrayal just as strongly as I sensed the weapon you are carrying in your womb, daemon.”
All the warmth left Tensley’s body at Fallen’s words.
Tensley tugged Molly closer, feeling her heart race, and she gripped his sleeve. Her breaths came fast, uneven as panic set in.
Fallen lifted his head, a wicked grin that sent chills down Tensley’s spine.
The bastard knew.
The bastard knew about the baby.
“Were you pregnant when you murdered Pearce, hmm?”
Every single nerve-ending in Tensley’s body vibrated in pain and terror.
Tensley could feel Molly trembling against him, feel her nails dig deeper, hear the pitter-patter of her heart.
“Such an offense is punishable by death in my court since you aren’t a demon,” Fallen continued, supplying as if a tiny, minuscule detail. Fallen let his light brown hair shadow his face as he leaned forward, the leather cracking beneath him. “And since you disobeyed me, Tensley—our bargain is useless now.” He chuckled, revolting to his ears.
Fuck no. He clenched his jaw. The bargain that insured Molly’s safety.
Fallen stared her down, his face entirely neutral as his fingers drummed on the arm of the chair. Thump, thump, thump.
“Hmmm,” he said, tapping his long polished nail on his mouth. “As a non-demon, you’d be sentenced to life imprisonment or death. Most likely death as the High Court does not favor humans.” A dark, sinister laugh crept from his dark mouth. “But as a daemon, we could not let your potential go to waste. No, no. You’d be punished by serving in the High Court, by my side. No title, no power, but a slave to us. How fitting.”
Molly’s shoulders stiffened, and Tensley reached for her, pulling her behind him. “No,” he said sternly, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll take her punishment.”
Fallen lifted a thin brow. “You would risk your life for hers. Did you not want to return to New York to help your people? Is she really worth more than hundreds of innocent people?”
“As if you were planning to let me leave this place alive,” Tensley said, not playing into the king’s trap. He had wanted to have Tensley admit how he felt for the daemon, admit that he had pledged himself, body and soul, to her. “Punishment be damned.”
A slow, dark smile warped Fallen’s entire features. “I really thought you were wiser than this, Mr. Knight. I thought you would realize the truth sooner than this. Alas, you never did…” he said, sitting back down in his throne roughly, the complete opposite of his usually graceful manors. “You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble had you not accepted my bargain.”
“What do you mean?” Tensley snapped, growing more frustrated by the second. It was evident the man was mocking them, and Tensley did not appreciate it.
“Pearce Saint… he died seven months ago. Long before your little daemon ever touched him.”
Seven months ago?
But Molly had killed Pearce three months ago.
All the tension in his body passed through him, and he frowned. “What?”
“He stole Prince Asmodeus’s playthings, a few favorite familiars from the High Court, and I gave the court the power to punish Pearce for his crimes.” He intertwined his fingers and leaned forward. “They cursed him as a Black.”
Born as nothing.
In court, they do not have a name.
Only Black—exiled, forgotten Black.
“He didn’t exist in court,” Tensley whispered, and Molly turned to watch him, brows pinched tightly. “So there is no punishment for his death. There never was.”
Fallen smiled gleefully.
The bastard had played them.
Mind-fucked them for shits and giggles.
“His family won’t be pressing charges either. They disowned him. He had no power.” He smiled. “And I may have lied about a daemon existing,” Fallen added, humming to himself. “But to get you here and to cooperate, I needed leverage, and the only way was to place your daemon on a cliff.”
“No daemon?” Molly whispered, still trembling beside him. Her skin had gone pale, all the blood draining from her features.
“Why?” Tensley breathed out, stunned. “Why did you do all of this?” he asked again as he felt all the blood rushing to his head—anger filling his veins and muscles. The king had played them for fools. Played him to get what he wanted.
“I needed you two under my thumb,” Fallen said, eyeing the two of them with a winning grin. “But to know you carry a child outside of your marriage—tsk, tsk, tsk.” He raised a manicured brow at them. “Should we repeat history, Mr. Knight? Rip your heart out and rip the human apart?”
Tensley’s muscles rippled with tension, with anger, and he let the toxic aggressive pheromones storm the king.
“You won’t touch her,” he hissed, his chest heaving.
Fallen straightened in his throne, the evil glint ever so present in the depths of his eyes. “You cannot tell me what to do, boy. I am your court. I am your crown. I am your king. And you have both disrespected me and betrayed my laws and authority. You will pay with your heart tonight, Mr. Knight.”
Tensley bared his teeth and took one step closer.
He’d fight, he’d devour, he’d kill for his court, his crown, his queen.
If the only way to protect Molly was by killing Fallen, he would. And at this point, there was only one way left.
“I challenge you, Fallen,” Tensley spoke, the calm and power lacing his voice like a whip. “I challenge you for the crown.”
THE DARK hallway shadowed Molly and Tensley as they marched to the throne room. Where Tensley and the king would fight. Where there was a chance Tensley would take his last breath if things went wrong.
But he wouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
He’s not dying tonight.
Molly shook her head, clenching her shaking hands together.
Molly’s chest burned, and she tried to keep up with Tensley’s fast steps, a cry at the edge of her tongue. His tailored coat strained between his shoulders, his muscles taut and flexed powerfully as he moved with confidence, but she saw the tension. The tension when he twisted his neck, the way his fingers curled and uncurled repetitively with his footfalls.
Tensley halted at the end of the hallway, the loud chatter of the court beyond the bronze doors raising her pulse. It rattled the chandelier above them, and it rattled Molly’s aching heart.
He rolled his tailored jacket off his shoulders, revealing his plain undershirt, shoving up the sleeves to showing his toned forearms.
Molly watched him flex his hands out, strengthening his muscles, his power to fight the king of demons.
She tried to speak, but anxiety choked her vocal cords. She licked at her trembling lips and stepped forward.
“Tensley,” she whispered, her heart pounding in her ears, the loudness drowning out the chaos beyond the doors.
Tensley glanced up, his head still bowed in his hands, his gray eyes narrowed in concentration.
“Don’t do this,” Molly said her voice shaky. She grabbed his hand and held it, dragging it to her chest. “Let me bargain. Let me speak to him. We can figure something else out.”
Tensley’s jaw tensed, and he ran his free hand
along her cheek and held her, searching her eyes for something—something she wasn’t sure he could see. “Until I have his severed head in my fist, you’re not safe.” For once, his eyes weren’t black, but bloodshot and wet with unwept tears, but with an angry hiss, he fought them back. “We’re not safe. And I will kill him—or anyone else who threatens us. King or not. I’ll rip his crown off.”
“He could kill you, Tensley,” Molly hushed, hotness piercing her eyes, her hands gripping his white shirt, tugging him as close as possible.
“We’re walking out of here, dolcezza,” Tensley said, gripping both of her cheeks in his hands. “I’m not dying tonight. Far from it.” His thumb brushed across her streaks of tears, rubbing them deeper into her skin, and she saw the way his features contorted.
“I can help you,” she said, voice shaking, but determination filling her bones. “Let me fight with you.”
Tensley shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. You’re carrying something too precious to risk, Molly.”
She breathed through the tears wetting her cheeks and blinked up at the man she loved.
The man who was risking his life to protect her and their child.
She sucked in a deep breath, steeling herself, collecting her strength, and swallowed her fear for him. “Make him bow.”
A smirk spread across Tensley’s swollen lips, and he dipped his head, gripping her hair with power and desperation and devoured her lips.
She kissed him back with so much energy, so much power for him to wield, for him to destroy the king and the court that threatened them.
Make them bow.
Make them cower.
Make them think twice before threatening them.
Kiss of power, kiss of venom, kiss so cruel.
Her hands dug into his chest, anchoring him to her, afraid to let him go, but she knew, as soon as her lips left his, he was going off to battle.
She didn’t want to let him go, so she ran her fingers through his hair and gripped the silky edges.
And then one final peck—one final touch—and he let go.
“Sometimes,” he started, his voice barely above a whisper but still as powerful as a dark, cruel wind during a thunderstorm.
Molly paused, her breath hitching slightly.
Tensley shook his head as if battling with himself. “Many times, during the past few weeks, when we've laid together at night, your body draped across mine, your skin against my own and your breath caressing my lips, many times I've wondered what it would be like to not be what I am. The demon. The cruel, unapologetic and power-hungry demon that I was made to be. The Dux. I've wondered what it would be like to be something else, something...more for you.”
Molly’s throat tightened to the point she was afraid to breathe.
He paused, a frown appearing between his brows as if he was lost to his own thought. “Never in my life have I wanted to be human. To be anything other than a demon, I've always been proud of what I am. But during those nights, I've wondered. If only because it meant I could love you. Love you the way you deserve. The way I've come to realize I've wanted to. Love you and tell you so, in as many ways as possible. Love you and be able to show the whole damn world how you've completely ensnared me. But because of what I am, because of how I was...raised, I couldn't.”
His hand came to rest against the side of her throat, his eyes admiring what she knew was the shadow of her collar there, a gentle caress of his fingers against her skin. She shivered.
“During our wedding night, I…” he paused, licking at his bottom lip. “…that was my way of saying it as best as my instincts would allow. Of showing you how much I loved you. But it wasn't enough. I knew that the second I challenged Fallen for power. I knew then and there I could not go in there, fight for you, for our baby, for my family, for Scorpios, and not tell the person who matters the most that I loved her.”
Molly’s knees wobbled and she feared if Tensley wasn’t holding her, she’d fall.
He took a deep breath, his hand gliding from her throat to her cheek. “I love you, Molly Darling. I realized I don't give a fuck about what I am, who I'm supposed to be and the things I'm forbidden to say. I love you with my whole cruel heart. It's wild and ruthless, but it beats for you and only for you, my dolcezza. You've turned a sullen, dark, pitiful heart into a living, pounding beast.”
His lips brushed softly against hers. “I love you,” he whispered once more against her lips before pulling away.
And there, in the deep gray of her husband's eyes, she could see the truth behind the words he had just spoken, his emotions bared to her completely, vulnerable.
She could see his love for her, the one thing Molly had craved but never dared ask for. Her own eyes turned heavy with emotions. She smiled up at the man she loved so deeply it hurt and let out a laugh, cracked by the force of her feelings.
“I love you, Tensley,” she whispered back.
His hand caressed her cheek once more before dropping.
In a blink of an eye, she saw Tensley transform into the beast he hid deep within himself, transforming into the warrior ready for battle.
Molly nodded once, her way of saying she knew what he had to do and what was about to happen. With one last look Tensley turned.
Her eyes stayed firmly on his back, her heart galloping, her entire world tilted. Her chest tightened, his words cascading down her soul, and into her heart.
I love you.
He steeled himself to stone, to iron, and threw open the bronze doors, entering into the packed room of court members crowded around the golden design circle in the center.
Fallen stood within the circle, his shirt removed, his muscles toned and firm under the low lighting, and his hair swept back into a short ponytail.
The crowd’s cheering drowned out their footsteps as Tensley entered the room, Molly by his side.
“Come forward,” Fallen ordered no room for disobedience.
Tensley stood still for a moment, and then shed his white shirt, exposing his rippling muscles as he moved forward.
A lethal weapon from her kiss.
Tensley’s foot stepped over the gold line, entering into the ring of his future, and Molly clenched her chest.
Please be safe.
Fallen raised a single hand, silencing the crowd, his focus on Tensley.
Both similar heights, but Tensley was built wider, packed with more muscles.
That meant nothing, though.
Two guards flanked her sides, and she gritted her teeth, ignoring them. She looked to the crowd of highborns, finally landing on the prince. His hand cupped his chin, eyeing each of the men in front of him—analyzing their movements and each glance exchanged between them.
If Tensley won, the prince would be the new king. She saw the stress in his bent brow and the way he drummed his fingers on his chin. The stakes were too high for him.
Molly looked away, her stomach twisting tighter the longer she watched the prince.
Fallen examined his opponent, pacing slowly, like a lion stalking its prey.
Molly wanted desperately to fight beside her husband, to shield him, to destroy the king, but she forced herself to stay where she was.
The drums began, pounding deep into her bones, shattering her strength.
Please, please, please.
Tensley glanced back—once, for a single second, their eyes locked, but it told her everything. That familiar gaze of bold rebellion. Of power and confidence.
A look that sent a war of trembles through her body. This man would not bow—except for her and he would destroy every man in his path.
He was going to be fine.
With her kiss, he’d win.
She felt it in her bones and in her beating heart.
He would make the king bow.
“I hope you enjoyed the kiss of power the daemon gave you because it’ll be your last. You will die with that kiss on your lips, make no mistake, boy,” Fallen bit out—and they both lunged, two powerfu
l forces colliding.
One a king.
One a man she loved.
TENSLEY POUNDED UPON the king’s shoulders and chest with strikes of pure rage, pure anger, dodging and striking, panting and roaring.
Fallen paced, taking each blow with a grin, swallowing a grunt, a groan.
But it only fueled Tensley’s beast to strike faster, harder. Fear of what would happen if he lost propelled him forward.
Make this bastard bow.
The crowd’s cries vibrated through his body, but Molly’s kiss of power drove his muscles and bones forward.
Do this for her.
Fight for her.
Kill for her.
The single thought of Molly drove him faster, harder, and stronger to destroy Fallen.
Each strike was for her. Each sound of flesh on bone crackled through the thick, tense air was for her.
He’d kill the king and protect her.
For my son.
For my son to not live under such harsh laws—to adore and love his own mother without an ounce of fear. To be the man I couldn’t be.
It was finally when his fist collided with the king’s jaw, the king paused, working his features. With his mouth open, Tensley saw the blood staining his sharp teeth.
“The king bleeds,” Tensley said, smirking victoriously.
Fallen wiped at his mouth and spat onto the white marble floor. A dark look took to his features—a monster more than a man. A snarl of warning, of war, and Tensley knew the battle was finally starting.
Tensley gasped at the power from one single pound into his chest, but that didn’t stop him. It only made him grow vicious.
Tensley growled and swung, missing him only for Fallen to punch him square in the mouth.
Tensley caught himself, glaring at the king pacing in front of him, tasting the iron blood swarming his mouth.
“I’ve only just begun, boy,” Fallen spat, cracking his knuckles slowly. “Your wife is going to see you on your knees begging for mercy.”
Tensley held in his reaction with a battered breath, studying the king’s movements, his tics—to find his weak spot, to find a way to destroy him.