by Grey, T. A.
When her body climaxed, he kept his mouth fused to hers, letting no sound escape. Her body needed to release all that incredible pleasure somehow and so it gripped his cock furiously, kneading it until he groaned deep in his chest and spilled white-hot inside her.
The moment touched her unlike anything had before. Her heart felt soft and tender and her brain struggled to regain control of herself. He wasn't ready for anything more than this, she told herself.
She looked into his beautiful golden brown eyes and wondered if he ever would be. And could she ever deal with that?
CHAPTER 27
“Send for her.”
“Right away, your highness.”
Alrik listened to the fading footsteps of the steward but his eyes were glued to the painting on the wall. It was a massive work, one of the largest in the castle; his father had it commissioned when he'd just been a boy of twelve. He used to study the painting many times during the Great War when he'd been relegated to the castle for protection. While the armies clashed outside the very walls he slept within.
The painting showed his father sitting on his throne wearing his royal grandeur--the long robed gown, the royal blue cape with gold trim. Next to him sat his mother in her finest royal gown made of hundreds of sparkling diamonds. But none of that interested him. It was the two boys sitting below the king and queen on the steps of the dais. He and Telal looked so young and innocent on the surface. But the painter had captured the hard look in their eyes quite well. Telal's dark golden eyes looked stern and unforgiving, much like their father’s, while his own younger gaze looked fresh with its violet hue.
It had been so long since he looked like that—golden skinned, reddish hair, and violet eyes—that he started to forget that he’d changed, morphed. The changes to his physical body had happened over a time, slowly. At first, he hadn't noticed it. Really he didn't notice it at all until one day after a bath. Just another ordinary day, but on that day he looked at himself in the mirror and saw his dark skin. He remembered feeling surprised by it; he'd touched his arm, watching his reflection in the mirror, to see if it was some kind of magic trick, a spell. Even then he hadn’t questioned it. Instead he’d welcomed it as if someone had told him he’d be having coffee today instead of tea. Now he wondered as he looked at that painting, why hadn’t he cared?
Many things could drive a person to change so drastically. He knew that, understood it, and had taken that as an answer to why he'd changed. Then he didn't think of it no more. Now his eyes had changed back. Why now? After all these years? Only two answers seemed possible. It could be finally having Arianna or seeing his brother. His mind felt scrambled with wild thoughts. He couldn't seem to keep his mind clear and steady any more.
What did it mean that they'd turned back to their old color? Would his skin change as well? Would the searing hate in his heart vanish too? Hate at his brother who'd caused it all?
Alrik roared at the painting. Screamed all of his venomous rage at Telal until his voice dried and shriveled to a croak. He was caught in another place, a place where emotion controlled him. All that he heard was his own harsh breathing and the sound of metal cutting and cutting.
When his voice stopped and the echoing shout faded, it still wasn't enough. His arms shook, his breathing sounded harsh. Alrik grabbed a sword from the table and slashed at the painting in hard sweeping cuts. The sounds of tearing paper, the ripping of cloth and snapping of the wooden frame cooled the hatred inside of him, if only a little.
His brother's body turned into slashes on the canvas like bears had ravaged it with their claws. The canvas folded in half, then dropped to the floor in tatters.
“Sir?” a hesitant voice said.
Alrik stared at the shredded painting, at the place where his brother used to be. His heart squeezed tight and his eyes watered. What had he done? Getting down on his knees, his hands trembled as he lifted the shredded remains of his brother's face.
“Sir?”
Alrik turned to the voice, and knew his eyes were glowing with simmering hatred. The steward took several steps back, his hand flying to his heart. As if that would save him.
The steward swallowed hard. The stench of his fear clung to air. “She, Lady Arianna, says she is ill and cannot receive you right now.”
A cold deadening feeling settled over him, starting in his heart and spread all the way to his fingers and toes. Alrik stood and stared down at the pieces of the canvas. Something snapped inside him.
He stormed into his study. The vial his mother had given him still sat on his desk. He grabbed it, uncorked it, and drank the entire contents. In a gradual rush his anger lessened, the trembling in his arms stopped, and his mind calmed. Taking a deep breath, he threw the empty vial into the fire and watched it blacken then shatter under the flames.
In the next second, he stalked out the door and up the stairs to Arianna's room. Sick or not, she wouldn't ignore him. She was his now. And she'd learn her place if he had to make her.
He didn't bother knocking but turned the handle and found it locked. Though his anger had lessened, it still simmered inside him. His mother's concoction allowed him to have better control of it. Bracing himself, he slammed his foot forward and kicked in the door. It burst open, the wood cracking along the frame. A feminine cry sounded from inside.
Alrik entered, finding Arianna sitting at her desk writing in a small notebook. Her eyes were wide and scared, and when she saw him, she immediately stood and backed up.
Good, he thought. You should be scared.
* * *
Arianna couldn't stop her heart from trying to beat out of her chest. Alrik looked more fearsome than ever. His chest rose and fell in great heaves; his hands were held stiffly at his sides as if ready to strike in a moment's notice, and his eyes... She gasped; his eyes had turned black again. The longer she stared the more she realized they swirled like black snakes coiling amongst themselves in a pit. What had happened to him since she last saw him?
He took a step into the room and kicked the door closed behind him. The realization that she was alone with him with no means of escape aside from her window that led to a forty-foot drop sent apologetic words falling from her.
“King Alrik, what are you doing here? I'm so sorry I couldn't make your request today. I'm-I'm really not feeling well, truly. I hope you understand.”
He didn't say a word but slowly took one step then another and another towards her. She felt like a weak animal being stalked by one much stronger than she was. When he got within a few feet of her, she screamed and darted to the side. His hard footsteps sounded after her.
She reached the bed and tried to climb over it, to get to the other side and to the door. She reached the edge of the other side of the bed, her hand curling around it as she frantically scurried across it, when a strong hand grabbed her ankle and tugged. She fell onto her stomach, sliding back towards him. She cried out again, tears forming in her eyes. He's going to kill me.
Strong hands grabbed her waist and flipped her over. She slapped at him, tears falling uselessly from her eyes, but he only grabbed her wrists and planted them on either side of her head. He leaned down over her, those dark terrifying eyes boring into hers.
“Why did you ignore my summons?” Even his voice sounded deeper, almost garbled.
“I-I told you. I do not feel well. Please let me go,” she said softly.
Those swirling eyes cut to her desk, then back to her. “Yet here you are writing with a little smile on your face.” His eyes traced over her face then down her body. “You seem well enough, Arianna. Did you lie to me?” he asked slowly.
Her mouth open and closed. Then some kind of resolution came over her and she stifled her tears and steadied her breathing. Softly she said, “Yes, I did lie and I'm sorry. I was just busy and didn't want to stop yet. I swear I was planning to come see you once I was finished. I swear. I swear.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
It was the truth. She'd been in the middle of writing in her journal. Abo
ut him. She hadn't wanted to stop, because she'd been trying to analyze her own feelings towards him. Especially since she last saw him, when they'd shared each other's bodies. She had to stop and try to figure out how to feel about it, and she always did that best by writing.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
She popped her eyes open and almost flinched at his dark eyes. But she kept her gaze locked on him.
“Do not ever lie to me again, Arianna. I don't think I could stand it.” She froze, feeling an odd truth in his words. Had her lie really mattered that much to him? But why? He only wanted her body.
He stood and turned to stare out at the bright sky through her window. Arianna slowly sat up, rubbing her wrists though they didn't actually hurt. Embarrassment crept in that she'd overreacted, but no. She was justified in her reaction. She'd been certain he was going to kill her by the look in his eyes, by the furious energy radiating off him. Anyone would have thought the same.
After a moment, he walked to her desk and sat at it. An all-new fear fired inside her. She ran for the desk but as she reached to grab her precious journal, he cut her a hard look that had her stumbling to a stop.
“This is what you were doing when you ignored me...” He proceeded to flip through the pages of her journal, ignoring the many earlier entries in favor of the newer ones.
Arianna found it difficult to breath. She could only stare in horror as he flipped directly to the page about when she'd first been invited to dinner. He settled down over the journal, his elbows on either side like a dog protecting his bone.
Arianna wanted to go bang her head into a wood plank a few dozen times. Either he read slowly or he was re-reading passages because he took forever on just the first two opened pages. When the crinkling sound of paper came indicating he'd turned to the next, a furious blush came over her face. Now he was reading about the other night.
She knew the words on the page by heart. Because she'd written them from her heart, by her own hand. Good thing he hadn't come by tomorrow to read her journal, because what she had to write after he left was not going to be pretty.
His eyes lifted from the page and landed on hers. Her knees suddenly felt weak and she collapsed into a chair by the fireplace. She buried her face in her hands to hide her mortification. She knew exactly what he was reading.
Alrik appears to have many different façades than I could ever have imagined. Not only is he far more intimidating in person and alone, but he appears so conflicted at times that I just want to sit down and talk with him. Find out why he's become the man he has and simply ask him: do you like who you are? I have a feeling he's never asked himself this question. It's as though as the years have passed, he's merely accepted his position, the darkening of his soul. The harbingers of pain to the prolitare. The answer to the prayers of the royal. I can still remember sitting with him and Telal when we were all ripe, and see his eyes shine with admiration at Telal. While Telal's betrayal cut us all deeply, I still cannot believe he hasn't accepted it, at least in some part, and grown to do what was right.
Tonight, this changed Alrik, the one who sits high on his throne and rules with a dark fist, ordered me to come to him. I knew now what he'd expect, at least as much as a virgin could. The experience was...well you know how it was. Horrible, exciting, odd, and incredible. I almost want to start calling him the man with so many faces, because that's who he is.
At one end, he'd so cruelly punish a prisoner whom I'm sure he knows was wrongfully imprisoned, and on the other he can look at me as though I'm the only person in the world he cares about. It isn't the first time I've seen the man-with-so-many-faces glance at me so. In fact, I’ve steadfastly ignored his gazes for a long, long time, not knowing what to make of it, and terrified to find out because something in my gut would seize so tightly and hold me captive.
It had to be fear that I'd felt—or so I thought. I learned my lesson tonight in the dining room during my private audience with Alrik. He touched me... how could this man's touch, this man of many faces, create such a stirring of passion inside me? He'd made me do debasing, sexual things that even now as I write this, stirs something needful inside me. He didn't take my body as I thought he would. But what he did instead, how he touched me, and made me touch him, felt more...erotic...than I can ever imagine sex being.
So the question now, journal, is what do I make of this man? Why even now am I still thinking about him? How I wish he were different, like his old self, then I don't believe I'd have any problems caring for him. But what happens when I begin to care for a monster?
The tension in the room escalated to nearly suffocating levels. Arianna gripped the armrests with a white-knuckled fist as Alrik slowly lifted his head from her journal. He'd read her most private words, entered her most secret world that no one knew of. No one now but him. She had no idea how to prepare herself, because she had no idea how he'd react.
“Do you believe you can fix me?”
“No,” she answered. How could someone fix something when they weren't sure what was broken? She didn't even know if she'd want to anyway.
Alrik stood, his hand curling around the journal and taking it with him. Arianna tensed as he headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped at the door. “What do you care?”
“You have my journal.”
He looked down at it. “So I do.”
She stood and marched up to him, extending her hand. “You can't have it.”
“I can have anything I want, Arianna. Anything,” he said, his face leaning into hers.
“What happened to your eyes?” she asked in a rush. If he was leaving and going to take her most precious belonging then at least she wanted that much answered.
Those dark eyes narrowed on her. “What did you expect? That one night with you would cure me?” He shook his head then slammed open the door, leaving her standing there gaping after him.
Arianna growled in frustration and slammed the broken door shut. The insufferable man was driving her crazy! She wanted to yank out her hair and scream until her voice turned hoarse. Cure him? Cure him? She had no thoughts to curing him. Where the hell did that even come from?
Arianna paced back and forth across her room, slapping her hand against the post of her bed in her anger.
“What is he talking about?” she asked to no one.
That rotten, irresponsible, jackass thought he could come in here and command her around. While he technically had every right to do so, that didn't make it right. And his response still didn't come close to answering her question. Why had his eyes turned even darker now? Why had they reverted in the first place? Wasn't he curious? Didn't he want to know?
“Obviously not,” she bit out and kicked a chair, knocking it over.
It wasn't until night fell and she'd calmed down that a thought struck Arianna. Did he think that being with her would cure him? The thought staggered her so much, she righted the chair she'd kicked over and sat in it. Did their...experience together somehow help to bring him back from whatever dangerous cliff he stood on?
“What if I can help him?” she whispered, her wide eyes trained unseeing on the wall. What if he wants me to help him?
Arianna tucked herself into bed that night with an all new perspective on the wicked king.
CHAPTER 28
Kearnyn waited in the small living room of Rosa's shop feeling more nervous than he ever had. He hadn't even been this nervous on his wedding day. All of that had been planned and understood. He and Moira knew exactly how the day would precede even leading up to the consummation of the marriage that night. Even then, he hadn't been so nervous.
Now he pulled a kerchief out of his suit jacket and dabbed at the sweat beading his temples. God damn. He had to get a hold of himself. He'll be a pile of sweat by the time she got out here.
After the meeting at Tyrian's today, he'd asked her on a date tonight. They both understood it'd be a real date, not some out-in-the-daylight-a
t-a-cafe date. He told her to wear something nice. Already he was thinking this was all a shitty idea. He wore his best suit and, god, did he hate it. It made him feel like a giant fucking penguin with the matching jacket and pants and tie. Still, he wanted to do something nice for her. He wanted to get her to loosen up and talk to him. He craved hearing her voice, knowing more about her.
He froze in the process of dabbing his sweat when he heard footsteps. No, not footsteps. The soft tapping of heels. He almost groaned at the thought of her in sexy shoes. God, this was a really bad idea. How was he supposed to talk to her when he had a hard enough time keeping his dick under wraps, and that was when she wore a loose unflattering dress. Heels...dark long legs...were they slender, muscular, or rounded and curvy? God, he didn't even care. He just wanted to runs his hands and tongue all over them. Pervert.
The soft sound came closer and he actually forced his eyes closed as she came through the beaded partition. He didn't want to see. He didn't want to know how difficult this night was going to be.
“Kearnyn?” she asked in a shy voice.
Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. And nearly groaned. This was going to be a really long night.
“God...wow. Uh, Rosa, you...” he sighed as he fumbled for words like an idiot. “Yeah, you look really great.” He hoped that didn't sound as lame as he thought it did, but his tongue didn't feel like cooperating just yet.
A sultry smile lit up her face as her head bowed at his look. She wore a white dress—if that little scrap of clothing could be called as much. Was she trying to make him lose control?
The top of the dress stopped at the top of her breasts—completely strapless—and it fitted to her surprisingly curvy body in a way that made him drool. The white dress contrasted perfectly to her darker skin, seeming to make her glow. And it didn't stop there. The dress stopped at the top of her thighs and he couldn't help but think that if she bent over, he'd see her bare ass. Another thought rammed into his skull: did she wear panties under that dress?