by A. K. Koonce
“I would have joined you sooner, but I was a little … detained.” Confidence stiffens my spine.
Laughter rumbles through the room. It’s a light and familiar sound that tingles across my skin.
My attention falls to the sound of his humming amusement.
Daxdyn Riles looks to me with a smile that melts me.
I hate how his uninvited happiness sinks right into me.
Fucking empath powers.
A light bruise shadows the bridge of his nose. It isn’t awful looking. It certainly doesn’t take away from his strong and attractive features.
Why do I suddenly feel guilty for hurting him? I shove the churning feeling aside.
The gray in Daxdyn’s eyes looks different. His happiness still shines within them, but sadness emits from just beneath the surface. That look sinks into me, and he shifts in his wooden chair until he’s staring down at his hands that he holds atop the glossy table. He’s seated at the end, the farthest away from the king and queen, but closest to me.
Darrio stands to my right, not leaving my side. The warmth of him seems to radiate into me, making me abundantly aware of his strong presence.
My gaze trails the wide room until I spot the last one.
Prince Ryder leans against a towering bookshelf. The warm sunlight that manages to peek through the grimy windows shines in his narrowed sea blue eyes. The bulge of his muscles catches my attention as he stiffly folds his arms across his wide chest. The blonde locks of his hair are disorderly and pushed back from his gorgeous face.
Anger rolls off of him in violent slashing waves.
“Pay no attention to my pouting big brother.” King Tristan’s amused voice travels up the vaulted ceiling and lingers.
Big brother. The term ‘step mother’ circles my memory.
Are they step siblings?
Thoughts fly through my mind as my gaze stays on the smooth features of my prince.
My prince?
Hardly. I swallow dryly, confused by the affectionate term.
It is interesting that Ryder’s father was the ruler of this land, and yet his younger step brother now owns the crown.
This fae was pushed out of his kingdom. Exiled into the Hopeless realm at a very young age. Did he come back for his father’s funeral five years ago?
“Ryder, you cannot let a woman ruin our budding friendship.” The king pins him with a sneering look.
Are they talking about me?
The ridges of Ryder’s back tighten, bunching together with tension that’s beginning to fill me as well.
“Queen Anna didn’t ruin our relationship, Tristan.” His black boots swivel against the tile until he’s staring hard at the queen. “The lies she used to lure the three of us from the Hopeless realm were your own.” His gaze hardens and his twisting smile sinks a peculiar feeling into the pit of my stomach. “Did your wife relay everything back to you?”
“Of course, she did. Everything she did was my own doing, Ryder. Your relationship was a pawn placed by my own hand.”
That haunting smile turns crueler. “Did your pawn tell you how often she choked on my dick, or was that just improvised? When she met me in the forests at midnight here, begging for me to fuck her, was that a perk for the pawn?” The flashing anger is mixed with amusement in his eyes.
My brows rise at his bold words. Ryder … slept with Tristan’s wife. In an instant, my gaze swings to the high and mighty king and his whorish queen. Shame reddens Anna’s ivory skin. The tops of her breasts push against the silk corset that’s restraining her heaving breaths.
“Do not speak of my queen in that tone. Our father would be ashamed of you, brother.” The cooled expression he gives Ryder is one of complete control.
“I’d think it was the colorful description he gave rather than the tone that it was given in,” I whisper on a bubbling laugh. My jaw snaps shut with realization.
Oh, my gods, why did I say that?
A coughing laugh falls from Daxdyn’s lips just as Darrio turns to give me a stunned look that says ‘are you fucking serious right now’. Ryder smiles at me, and the feel of his happiness flutters through my nervous stomach.
The attention in the room falls back on me; the idiot prisoner with the big mouth.
“Have they been good to you, the fae?” Tristan asks. He looks at me with intense interest. In fact, no one’s ever looked at me the way King Tristan does. Sexual lust isn’t in him. It might not exist in this sleazy man at all. He looks at me the way he probably looked at that crown that once sat atop his father’s head. He looks at me as if I’m a thing of power.
And now he owns me.
The sound of my boots shifting fills the deliberate silence. I let my lashes flutter down to admire the harsh cuffs that adorn my wrists; bracelets of imprisonment. Suddenly I notice all four of us are wearing matching cuffs as if at any minute they might shackle us once again.
The time I spent with the three fae skims through my thoughts like a soft caress against a painful scar.
“They were very charming. Thanks for asking.” I flash a short-lived smile before pulling my lips tightly closed.
Tristan stands, ignoring everyone including his tainted wife. The sound of his heavy steps striding toward me sinks dread through my body with every echoing move he takes.
The twisting feeling within my stomach is swallowed down as I steel my spine and wait for whatever displaying act he’s about to perform.
Thin fingers push back a lock of my blonde hair, and it’s then that I realize lust is very much alive within this man. It might be a mangled, dominant, abused form of sexual frustration, but it is in fact a living, breathing, disgusting thing within him.
“I want you to join me for dinner tonight.” His fingers trail down my jaw and a crawling shiver scurries down my spine. “I have something I want to show you.” My teeth smash together as I let him stroke my skin.
Despite my nerves, my stomach growls at the mention of dinner. My gaze trails back to the hazy window. Clouded hues of deep orange threaten to shine through. How long was I out for? It’s nearly sunset now. Was it only a few hours or a few days?
Darrio shifts forward, his shoulder bumping in to Tristan’s. The king’s hand falls back to his side and I release a tense breath.
“Darrio, I’d like you to keep an eye on our little … guest. You’re turning out to be a man of loyalty.” He turns from me, giving Darrio’s impressive size a once over. “Prove your loyalty to me.” He clasps his hand on the fae’s bulky shoulder as he stares up at him.
I peek at Darrio, wondering if he’s scowling as always.
A genuine smile is all he possesses. Darrio’s teeth are white and straight and flash with humor that I’ve never seen before. It makes him handsome. His smile dissolves the scars lining his face, and the dark beard shadowing his jaw only smooths his rough edges into something of pure carnal sexuality.
I’d be attracted to him even more if I wasn’t still nauseated by his betrayal and from King Tristan’s closeness.
“I’d be honored, my King.” The obedience in Darrio’s deep voice washes away every speck of attraction I previously held for him.
Fucking traitorous fae.
I keep my eyes on the floor as King Tristan’s hungry attention drifts over me. I feel it clawing into me, turning my stomach with the feel of his gaze.
Off the top of my head, I can think of a hundred different times I’ve used my appearance to my benefit. But, I also know when I’m toying with a stupid boy and when I’m tiptoeing around a very, very dangerous man. King Tristan is the latter of the two.
He’s filled with more danger than he is desire.
But so am I.
Chapter Three
Help
Once again, I mark the halls of this castle with two fingers this time. I trail a path from what appeared to be the dining hall to the room that Darrio’s leading me to.
“Making a path?” Darrio asks, his pace slowing to fall in place at my si
de.
I continue to let the soot stain my hand as I brush the dirty wall with my fingertips. His gaze burns across my skin, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of my attention or a response.
“You don’t have to leave a trail. We won’t be sticking around, Kara.”
This information has me perking up and I chance a glance at him.
His silver gaze holds mine and his lips part like he might say more, but he doesn’t. He isn’t Daxdyn; he won’t spill his guts to me without being prompted.
“If you are a trusted and loyal servant now,” I pause letting a smirk kiss my lips as I taunt him, “why are you wearing the cuffs?”
We stop outside a door that might be mahogany, but it’s covered in so much charcoal colored dust that it’s hard to tell.
“They’re iron. Iron stunts fae magic. It’s harboring my powers. The king wants us to return to our places. He wants fae at his disposal as they once were all those decades ago. It’s best if we let him believe that’s what’s happening.”
He takes one hand and rubs it over the smooth iron clasping his other wrist.
“Guess a fire fae can only be trusted so much,” I muse as my fingers drop from the wall.
This is my room. I can tell by the way he keeps glancing toward it. A long torturous sounding breath leaves his lips as if there are words pressing against his chest, pushing to get out.
“I guess I’ll see you tonight when you pick me up to deliver me to your king.” The intentional twist of my words fuels my anger. “Will you carry me right to his bed?” His jaw tics, struggling to remain closed, so I push a little harder. “Will he make you undress me for him?”
“Kara, stop,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.
A single step is all I take toward him, letting my chest brush against his as he glares down into my fuming gaze.
“Maybe he’ll even let you watch,” I whisper in a shaking breath that barely maintains my emotions.
Then he’s shoving me. My back hits the wall and his body covers every inch of mine. He holds himself on his arms above my head as he stares down at me, his warm breath fanning between us. The feel of his thrashing heart shakes into me, and it dictates my own heartbeats until they mirror one another, beat for beat.
He tilts his head low, his lips just a breath away from mine.
“Don’t ever think that I would allow his fucking hands to touch you.” His promise is spoken in a rage-filled whisper. Fury shines in his eyes like I’ve only ever seen when he used his powers on the soldier who lost his face to Darrio’s magic. Would the simple cuffs on his wrists really prevent that raw power from leaving him?
His attention falls to my lips, and for a second, I remember he hasn’t kissed me since I slapped him. Desire spreads through me with that thought alone. He and I have this tension between us like I’ve never felt with anyone else. The way his body’s aligned with mine, the energy I feel pooling through him, it has me shifting my thighs against his.
The thoughts are smothered out as I realize he’s the reason I’m here at all. I’m a prisoner of the Kingdom of Juvar because he lied to me.
“If you don’t intend to tell your king that, then I suggest you stop looking at me as if I’m yours, Rio.”
Harshly, I shove against his chest, pushing past him. The door eases open under my touch, and I don’t look back at him as it closes behind me. My head leans back against the door and a shaking sigh parts my lips. Wet tears sting my eyes, but I breathe out the emotions until the tightness in my chest dissolves into a manageable feeling.
The noise that clicks through the room is so quiet I barely hear it. But I do hear it; the sound of a lock clicking in place.
Just like a good little servant, Darrio Riles just locked me in my room.
The frustration in me simmers as I take in my new lavish jail cell.
The room is elegant. Fresh, white blankets line the enormous bed. It looks soft and inviting, the nicest bed I’ve ever seen, actually. A small sitting area takes up most of the space. Two swooping loveseats face each other. A worn wardrobe stands at the far end of the room, and in the opposite corner is a shining claw foot tub. Everything is open. There’s not a single place to hide in the room. And, upon closer inspection, not a single extra weapon is gifted to me. I’m allowed one towel, several choices of outfits and, for whatever reason, a basket of cookies.
They really rolled out the welcome wagon here. A heavy sigh parts my lips as I scan over my room once more.
The balcony window chants my name on repeat and my feet carry me to it the moment I hear Darrio’s boots fade away down the hall.
There’s no lock!
There’s no fucking lock on the balcony doors.
Oh, could they be so stupid?
The glass doors swing open with an announcing shriek of the hinges, and my fingers grip the cold stone railing. Down, down, down my gaze travels. Darkness eludes the depths of the earth. I’m so high up I cannot see the ground. The tips of flames can be seen in the distance; smoke and darkness is all that greets me.
This land was once my home. I squint against the smoky clouds. The small cottage I grew up in with my father flashes through my mind and I try to imagine it as one of the rooftops outlined in the distance.
Wishful reminiscing is all it is. And I don’t have time fond memories at the moment.
I step closer to the edge and find that the surface of the building is rough concrete, but entirely flat. Not one handhold is offered to me. I peek up at the space above me to find one more floor. A balcony is just above, and several high yards above it is the slate black roof.
Okay … if I can’t go down … I should go up?
Up is better than having to go down … on Tristan.
That thought sours my stomach, but it gets my feet moving quickly enough. I hoist myself up on the smooth rail and balance my weight. My stomach twirls uneasily, and I hug my thin frame to the wall. I’m not afraid of heights but the mysterious darkness below makes plenty room for fear to trickle in. Concrete scuffs my cheek as my long hair dances recklessly in the wind.
On the toes of my boots, I reach for the balcony above. I teeter, stretching to the fullest of my meek height. The cool breeze is all that meets my fingertips. It’s about five feet from my reach. A shaking breath skims through my clenched teeth, and the image of Tristan’s cruel mouth fuels my movements. On a last-ditch effort, I leap for it.
The smoky air catches my body in the gentle winds, shooting heart-pounding fear all through me.
But it isn’t enough.
I land hard on my knees. My palms sting into the floor of my balcony. Slowly, my eyes close as I stay hunched on the ground.
I breathe deeply through my nose.
It’s alright. It’s fine. I just won’t be using this room as an escape route.
A mantra of calming thoughts circles my mind as I stand and dust off my torn jeans. I don’t bother closing the door behind me. I want to fume on it a bit longer.
Storming across the room, I turn on the faucet to the tub. The white porcelain is too cold for comfort, and I turn the hot water on to its fullest. I undress as I pace. A trail of my clothes litters the room, and I continue to glare daggers at the balcony even as I slip into the deep bathtub.
The cold structure of the bath fights against the steaming hot water spilling into it. I sink low, letting my head disappear beneath the clear water. With my eyes tightly closed, my muscles relax and I let my thoughts drift.
Why would they do this? Why would they bring me here? Is the Hopeless realm really why we’re here?
They seem free while I’m living as a luxurious prisoner of Juvar.
A whore.
That’s what I’ll be.
I push harshly against the bottom of the slick tub until air meets my lungs. Water trails down my shoulders and chest as I push my hair from my face.
As soon as my eyes open, they land on his smile.
Daxdyn’s heated gaze follows a line of water t
hat’s falling down between my breasts. My thighs clench together, and I force myself not to shy away from the look in his eyes. My fingers clench into my palms at my sides.
He sits on the edge of the tub, near my feet. Dark locks fall into his lashes as he stares at me with hooded eyes.
A thousand snarky thoughts drift through my mind, but only one seems to fit here in this moment.
“Pass the soap,” I say in a steady but breathy voice.
White teeth sink into his lower lip as his gaze trails down my body to the column of my throat, my smooth round breasts, my scarred ribs, heating across my navel. His attention stops as I bring my legs up slightly in the warm waters to hide what I know he’s looking for.
Surprisingly he doesn’t drop the soap like I thought he might. He hands the little white bar over, our fingers tingling with contact. A muted feeling of his emotions flows through me, driving right down to the center of my sex.
I shiver, but remain focused on the task of pushing the soap across my dirty skin. When it’s nearly overflowing, he turns the faucet off for me.
With rapt attention, he watches in silence. It’s strangely erotic. A tightness pebbles my nipples as I push the lathery soap across my chest and down my stomach. A heavy sigh drifts over my lips like a quiet moan, and my breath catches more when I see his hand fall to the crotch of his straining jeans. He adjusts himself stiffly.
Up and down his chest rises and falls. I pause, my legs angled closed, the bar held just below my hip bones. An energy burns between us as we stare hungrily at one another. In this moment, he’s at his weakest.
It’s then that I strike.
“Why did you bring me here, Daxdyn?” His name is a rasping breath on my tongue.
A smirk tilts his lips, and he clears his throat before looking away from me.
“Let me help you and I’ll consider telling you.”
Help. Never in my life has that word sounded less like a kindness and more like a kinky foreplay.
A pooling wetness that has nothing to do with the water heats between my legs.