by R. Scarlett
Only one of them would get what they wanted.
Both men backed off.
Fresh blood now poured from the hole in Tensley’s chest and the prince’s nose bent and gushed blood into his mouth and down his chin.
Tensley’s chest rose and fell fast and she could see the exhaustion. He hadn’t fully recovered from his earlier battle with Fallen, the hole in his chest needed more than mere healing powers.
Her hand lifted, debating whether he’d snap if she attempted to touch him.
Tensley eyed the prince once more and turned his attention to the court. “Threaten me—threaten what belongs to me and I will show you how vicious death is. I will be the plague you fear if you try to harm her.” His lips pulled back and he growled. “Or my crown.”
Molly tasted the power, the thirst for more in the air, and she knew the beast wanted all of it.
The beast wanted the crown, the throne, the court. It wasn’t letting go. But the beast also craved the violence, the release. It wanted someone to threaten Molly, so it could snap again and drink hungrily from their pain.
He hadn’t been poisoned; he’d been destroyed, his vicious heart ripped from him, ripped from her, and she felt it like it had been her own.
Darkness consumed him.
Power ate at him.
Hunger blinded him.
And as she looked at the prince, she saw the same, brewing, sizzling deep within his own beast.
It was only a matter of time… she thought.
He was not done, far from it.
Even through the dark clouds simmering in his gaze, one message rang clear; he would stop at nothing. He would get his crown, no matter what.
With the hushed silence of the court, Tensley turned and looked at Molly behind him. She wanted to catch a glimpse, a moment where all her fears were erased, and to see her Tensley shine through for just a single second. To finally see the proof she had been desperately waiting for since his heart had been ripped out of him. Proof that he was acting, that this was all a trick to fool the court, and Tensley wasn’t gone.
Tensley Knight’s heart and soul hadn’t been torn apart by a mad king.
Looking back at the man before her, she knew the answer and it burnt her insides to embers.
A whisper of breath slithered across the embers, and she felt the sizzling burn, a pain-filled cry almost ripping out of her throat.
And with those pitch-black eyes of power, she knew the beast wanted her.
She was his kiss of strength. She was his weapon.
The man she loved was gone, but a need ached inside of her bones and fueled her.
She wanted his iron heart.
She wanted her husband back.
As she watched him turn away once more, focusing on the court, his features composed, his lips a flat line of indifference, his body posed in leisure, but with a snap, lethal, she vowed to herself.
A vow she’d die with, a vow she’d ruin anyone in her path, destroy gods and burn kingdoms to ashes to keep.
She’d ruin herself—and find his precious iron heart.
The beast before her had no idea she was the true threat.
She’d wage war against him. She’d move mountains and steal stars.
No, she thought, bowing her head, her eyes never leaving the dark lord before her. She would get his heart back for Tensley Knight.
For their unborn son.
She’d make the beast kneel, and save the man.
That, she vowed.
TENSION PRICKLED AT Molly’s scalp as she watched the heartless king stand at their bedchamber’s open balcony.
Posture strong, his wavy dark locks smoothed back in perfection, the blood cleaned from his hair and skin, a new fitted dark suit enveloping his powerful body.
As if nothing had happened.
She took a shaky breath, her eyelids closing softly, and to calm her raging, cracked heart, she remembered.
She remembered when she had first met him when she was four years old. How terrified she had been. How, at her young age, he had seemed so imposing and dark. Yet, somehow, she had known the boy with the dark hair and the stormy eyes would always protect her.
She remembered when he had imposed himself back into her life a few months ago, barging in without warning like a dark, summer storm, and ruined all of her plans. She smiled, laughing softly when she remembered his arrogance. Yet, she would never regret the day he had come to collect her family’s end of the bargain.
She remembered the feel of Tensley’s soft lips caressing her ear when he would murmur words that would make her stomach flutter, every night until darkness consumed them both.
She remembered the numerous late nights they had spent, talking and laughing freely, back at Tensley’s…their apartment, she corrected herself.
She remembered their wedding day and how despite the danger that had been lurking at every corner, patiently waiting to pounce, she had felt like the happiest woman on earth because she had been gifted the chance to marry the man she loved.
She remembered their wedding night, and how he had shown her the power of touch, the power of the bond they shared with one another, and how love could be expressed in so many ways that didn’t require words.
And finally, she remembered the day he had told her he loved her, and a tear rolled down her soft cheek.
She wiped it away roughly, taking a deep breath, before turning toward Tensley once more.
A warlock stood in front of him, finishing up healing the hole in his chest. She rubbed a mixture of herbs and ointments, quietly whispering a chant. When Lilith and the prince refused to heal Tensley’s gaping hole, this warlock had volunteered. She had shrugged offhandedly and said that her ancestors had been in charge of healing the previous king for centuries and that they were taught since birth that their duty was to the king and that he had to be saved no matter what. And so she did.
Neither Molly nor Tensley had been opposed to the help.
Finally, the warlock stepped back and bowed her head deeply. “You are healed, my king,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. So soothing, a wave of calm washed over Molly’s nerves and sadness. “I would advise you to rest for a few days, your Highness. The hole was much deeper than I anticipated. The healing chants could heal parts of it but not all. It still needed stitches in the end. Within a few days, you should have fully recovered.” Tensley nodded once, barely acknowledging her, and she straightened and gathered her supplies.
As the warlock neared Molly on her way out, she whispered softly: “Thank you for healing him.” A smile had barely appeared on the warlock’s lips, when a frown appeared between her softly arched brows.
“Now is not maybe the right time to bring this forward, milady, but intimacy could also help the healing process,” she said, just as a cruel, vicious laugh resonated through the room. The sound a promise of dark lust and sin. Molly shivered as the warlock quickly left the room.
Leaving Molly and her husband alone, for the first time.
Molly watched Tensley’s back as he did the buttons of his dress shirt.
She bit the inside of her cheek. The breeze was cool from outside, but Molly felt heat burn her skin. An inferno roared inside of her being. Deep inside the creases of her heart.
A war, a flame, a vow.
He’s in there.
You just need to find him.
She grappled with her mixed emotions. He was breathing, he was standing right in front of her. For now, it was enough. He could have died but he hadn’t. There was still hope.
“You’re staring,” that husky familiar voice jolted her out of her thoughts and she gawked at his back. His suit had been so perfectly fitted, it looked as if it had been molded to his powerful body. The fabric seemed to be stretched beyond its capacity, and each time his muscles flexed, it seemed to grow even tighter. Yet, it never ripped.
Molly licked at her dry lips and took a step forward unsure of how she was meant to act around this new, strange
man. As she edged closer, she raised her hand.
She wanted to feel him—feel his muscles flex and the movement of his calm breathing. She wanted to believe he wasn’t a mirage, a trick to her mind to cope with the grief of his death.
One touch.
One single finger.
The doors of the chamber pounded against the wall and Molly yanked her hand back and turned to see two guards entering the room like they owned it.
“The queen has required your presence in the throne room to discuss matters, Mr. Knight,” one of them announced. The name he had used to refer to Tensley had clearly been meant as an insult to the king. Tensley’s face stayed ruled by cold indifference, but Molly could sense the wave of anger beneath the surface.
He was King. Or the beast was.
But that didn’t mean Lilith didn’t still think of herself as queen.
And some seemed to believe the same.
Tensley gave them one long look, an unwavering stare, and his hand clenched at his side. For an instant, she thought he was going to explode once more and let the beast take full control of himself, but to her surprise, he started moving with a graceful stride. Tensley led the way and Molly walked behind him down the darkened hallways, the sun setting, the first day of his rebirth almost done. A nightmare she wished she could wake up from.
To flutter her eyes open and find the man she had fallen so dangerously hard for.
To own his smiles and his delicious scowls.
As they neared the throne room, the vicious voices grew louder with each step. Lilith’s voice was twisted into a shriek of anger and wrath. The court was arguing and it was clear what they were debating.
How to overthrow Tensley.
A death wish, she wanted to say as she shook her head.
She swallowed down the thickening emotion in her throat and stepped into the throne room.
A room tight with anger and panic, each court member turning to icy stone as they laid eyes on their new king. The court grew deadly silent, their bravery turning to ashes in Tensley’s thudding footfalls.
Lilith sat on her throne next to Fallen’s empty one, and with a face full of venom and rage, her hands gripping the golden trim. She acted as if she owned the throne she was sitting on, and every inch of the palace.
“The court was waiting,” Lilith said, lowly, but with a razor sharp edge that Molly knew she aimed to make them bleed.
Tensley stood in the middle of the room, chin high, shoulders back, and his eyes trained on Lilith. The longer he stared, the more she fidgeted with her dress, her hands digging deeper into the golden trim of her throne. It was shaped to represent a lion roaring.
Fitting, Molly thought.
“If you wish to see another day, do not dare summon me like this again. I am not one of your pets,” Tensley spat, his anger thickening the air around them.
“My lord,” Lilith spoke, her head at last lowering in submission. “I apologize for my forwardness.” Her tone seemed truthful enough, but it was her eyes that made Molly’s stomach twist in rejection. Dark and shining, like smoke under a glass.
Obedient in appearances, but a rage stronger than her common sense fueled her.
Lilith straightened in her throne, gesturing with a flick of her wrist to the rest of the members standing in front of her. “I asked for your presence here because we were discussing what should be done,” she said gesturing wildly toward the king. “With this situation.”
“Done?” Molly frowned at her, and as if the members had forgotten she existed, they turned to face her.
Lilith’s features pinched in a scowl. “Yes. A vote needs to be taken for who will take the throne. The crown. And the chosen one will be crowned after the mourning period has ended after our late king’s death.”
Molly’s stomach dropped into a pit of darkness. If someone else became king…what would that mean for them? Would that new king kill them? If the Prince took the crown, would he let them go?
“A vote.” Molly laughed, the sound empty and dry. “If the conversation you were having before we arrived was any indication, it seems to me as if the decision was already made. You decided long ago that the Dux of Scorpios was not your king. Look at yourself, staring down at us like you own us all. I must applaud your bravery, Lilith,” she spat and smiled darkly, the name used as an insult. “You don’t stop at anything to get what you want. Do you want your son to obtain the throne because you truly believe he will be the best ruler over these people, or is he simply a way for you to give your filthy hands an easy access to power?” she finished, a brow arching in dismay.
Lilith’s mouth was nothing but a thin, white line. Before she could speak, Molly cut her off again.
“Speaking of which, where is your son? If we are meant to be ‘discussing what should be done’ as you so gracefully put it,” she continued with a sarcastic turn of her lips. “Shouldn’t he be present? To cast his own vote.” She finished, the last word tasting foul in her own mouth.
Everyone in the room knew there would be no vote. The outcomes had been chosen long before they had arrived in the throne room.
Her eyes shifted from Lilith to the empty throne beside hers, the gold crown that sat on it caught her attention. A symbol of power and fear, of what her future would be if that crown fell upon Tensley’s dark head.
Her breath rushed in her head, low and fast.
Lilith’s dry voice shattered Molly’s dark thoughts. “I was told my son was indisposed,” she said, displeasure written all over her face. “But that is all beside the point. We are here to discuss the future of this court, not the whereabouts of the prince,” she added with disdain before turning her head toward the king, dismissing Molly. “You murdered our king,” she said after a beat of silence, her voice slicing through Molly’s anger.
She so badly wanted to reach out whether it was to slice her claws down Lilith’s face or to grip Tensley’s wrist for support, she didn’t know.
So instead, she fisted her hand and punctured the tender skin of her palm.
Patience, she told herself.
Molly bit her lip and moved forward to stand beside Tensley, glaring at Lilith.
“He won by tradition,” a lord spoke, stepping up to the throne. A few other members nodded and murmured their agreement. “Tradition created by Fallen himself. He fell on his own sword.”
“Tradition?” Lilith’s face turned a bright red full of rage and the golden trim under her fingers groaned in protest.
“He is our king now, my lady,” another lord said, face disfigured from war and fire, and he held the handle of his long sword.
“He is not our king,” one spat back, gesturing to Tensley with a shaking arm.
Tensley, in the midst of the heated argument, was deadly silent. He didn’t move and he didn’t interject. So, so silent.
Too silent.
“You can give up the crown,” Lilith said, her wide violent eyes trained on Tensley. “You have no interest in our politics. Your interests lie with Scorpios. Why sully our court when you hate all who are a part of it. Vengeance? The king’s body is now cold and unmoving. You had your vengeance. Leave my court. Let the real king reign.”
Silence.
Each member of the court watched Tensley carefully.
“My son should be the king,” Lilith continued, standing up in her gown of red, fitted perfectly to mold around her full figure. A madman’s craving. “He grew up within this palace. Played with some of your young,” she said, looking at the members of her court. “He lived each day of his life a step behind his father, analyzing, calculating, waiting for this day to come. He was born to rule this court. Will we let disdainful foreigners,” she continued, the last word making a few people squirm in discomfort. “Lead us? Rule over us? How could you rule us when you cannot even rule Scorpios without them dying? As queen, I must look out for my people, and I tell you all, this wild animal is not the right choice for the future of our court.”
Silence.
Molly didn’t want Tensley to be the king. She didn’t want him to be tied forever to the High Court. What would it mean for Scorpios? For his family? For her? For their child? If she took him away from here, she could heal him. She could bring him back without any powerful eyes watching their every movement.
This wouldn’t be the right environment for him.
It was toxic.
“The crown is rightfully mine,” Tensley’s voice of steel and venom slashed through the room. “And your pitiful opinion on what is right and what is wrong will not be needed in my court.”
Molly’s knees shook, but she took even deep breaths and raised her chin high.
“You low-bred bastard,” Lilith hissed and stepped far too close, her nose aligned with his. Her anger fumed, consuming everything in her path and she swung her arm, her palm open. “I will destroy—”
Tensley moved like a predator, his hand jolting and wrapping so tightly around Lilith’s swan-like throat that she choked on a shriek.
The court froze, including Molly as she gawked at Lilith’s olive skin turning pale, then very, very dark. A wave of aggressive pheromones stormed the throne room, suffocating them in anger and rage and relentlessness.
Molly gripped her chest, shaking her head at the man before her.
The Tensley she knew, as much as he hated a woman, would never show such violence toward them.
“Tensley,” Molly whispered, finding her voice. When he simply stared at Lilith’s blue face, her long fingers clawing at his fisted hand, Molly stepped closer to their two bodies. “Tensley, stop,” she almost shouted, her eyes filling up with tears as she realized just how far gone her Tensley was. And as much as she hated the woman he was aiming to kill, she would never let him do this. The crowd around them started to whisper nervously, a few guards moving dangerously forward, weapons drawn, ready to attack.
This was all going very, very wrong.
“Don’t do this. This is not you. You would never do this. Let her go,” she whispered softly, her words meant only for his ears even though she knew Lilith could hear every word. She put her hand on his arm, his muscles flinching under her fingers as if the thought of her touching him whilst in this state disgusted him. She held in her tears. “Please,” she said hurriedly, seeing as Lilith seemed to be dangerously close to her end.