“I want us to have a nice dinner, Fiora. We can’t do that if you’re behaving like a wounded bitch.”
“You murdered my mother, tortured my father, brother, and Matheas, and you expect me to be pleasant. You’re as dull-witted as you are twisted,” I seethe.
The sting of his palm whips my head sideways, the after-pain throbbing in my cheek.
“It’d be wise for you to learn to respect me. If you don’t, Matheas will suffer.”
“Fine,” I grind out between clenched teeth. “We’ll pretend I don’t despise you for this game. What is it you want?”
“I’ve received word from your fiancé. He wants to negotiate.” When he reaches for my hair, I jerk away from his touch. Snatching a fistful, he pulls me back to him. “I think he’s come to his senses about you—a wise decision. He’ll be saving himself a lot of trouble.” Releasing my hair, he flicks it off my shoulder. Hand gripping my shoulder, he digs his thumb into my muscle, causing me to flinch in response. “You don’t belong with him or Matheas.” His thumb digs deeper, and I pinch my lips together, so I don’t squeal. “You belong with me. You’re the only woman strong enough to handle me.”
When he lets go, I release the breath I was holding, but the discomfort lingers. Picking his glass up from the table, he takes a drink, then kicks at my ankles, the short chain jingling as he spreads my legs. Taking a long look at my center, he licks the moisture off his lips.
“He’ll likely want something out of this deal, so he doesn’t walk away empty-handed. I’m not willing to give up Anauka. I need it as much as I need you to conquer it. What should I give him, Fiora?”
“Your head on a long sword.”
“Fiora,” he growls, his glass slamming on the table. Hands on my thighs, he grips them with aggressive force as he puts his face inches from mine.
“I’m willing to let everything in the past go, even show you kindness if you change your behavior. If you don’t”—he squeezes my thighs harder, his strong fingers digging into my skin—“I’ll have Matheas tortured and killed while you watch, then I’ll spend every night beating you before I shove my cock in you. Is that how you want things to go?” My skin is puffy and red when he takes his hands off me. Staring down at me, his eyes gleam with fury, but it doesn’t conceal the flash of desire. “You manage to put me in a rage more than any other woman. I just want you to submit. To give yourself to me. I don’t want to have to kill you. It’d be a horrible waste. We’re capable of doing great things together.”
Lifting the glass of water, he brings it to my lips.
“Have a drink.”
My dehydration motivates my head forward, accepting the glass he holds out for me. Watching me with approval, a grin lifts his thin lips.
“Can’t you see I’m trying to be kind to you? It’s not easy for me, but I’ve come to realize I value your voluntary submission more than receiving it by force.”
I hear the words, but they whisper deception.
“I think you’re afraid. Afraid of Ryker’s army, afraid of losing everything you’ve manipulated to get. You don’t want to be kind to me. You want my cooperation.”
There’s a slight tilt of his mouth as he steps forward, then lowers, coming face-to-face with me. Hand on my thigh, he trails his fingers upward, watching me twitch in response.
“Your intelligence is a trait I appreciate. So many women I come across are gullible, so easily betrayed by my words and soft caress.” His fingers move disturbingly close to my center, his touch revolting me. “But you, Fiora, see me for who I truly am, and you don’t fear me.”
Slamming my thighs together, I stop him from invading my opening.
“No, you disgust me.”
Ankle cuffs jingling, I raise my knees, forcing his hand back. Bringing my knees closer to my chest, I kick out with force, knocking him back several steps. When he charges in a rage, I kick again, slamming into his gut, causing him to buckle over and reach for his abdomen. Green eyes are ablaze with hatred as they narrow in on me.
“You’re going to pay for that.”
Mouth aslant in anger, he rushes at my side, fisting my hair and dragging me up from the chair. With my limited mobility, he easily forces me across the room, shoving me onto his bed. Behind me, the rustling of pants draws my attention to him. Unfastening them, he reveals part of his cock as he comes forward, hands intent on taking hold of me. Wiggling farther onto the bed, I turn face up and thrust my legs out, kicking at his chest. Fisting an ankle, he hooks his hand into one of the cuffs.
“It’s time I secure these,” he growls.
Dragging my body toward the straps on his bed frame, he controls my movement, hooking one ankle to a circular metal carabiner. As he reaches for the other, his movement slows, his head shaking as if he’s fighting off drowsiness. The strength in his grip lessens on the second leg, his brows pinching inward in confusion. Looking over at me, his gaze is lethal.
“How did you manage—”
His words trail off as he leans forward, using the bed to hold himself up. Eyelids drooping, he grumbles inaudible words. Arms giving out, he collapses on the bed, his mouth twisted, and his face smashed against the fabric of the bedspread. With a breath, I silently thank Richter.
Eyeing the carabiner, I bring my unsecured ankle over to the other and toe at the opening repeatedly until it opens wide enough for me to slip my cuffed ankle off it. Free from the bed frame, I bring my legs as close to my chest as I can, forcing myself into a ball as I stretch my arms painfully past my ass. Sliding the cuffs up the back of my thighs, I free my hands from behind my back. Climbing over Belore’s back, I wrap the short chain between my wrists around his neck and pull, using all my strength to strangle him.
The automated door opens, followed by a kitchen staff member carrying a large tray. Two arms men stomp in behind the older woman, and all eyes go wide in shock when they catch sight of what’s happening. The woman is shoved out of the way, tray crashing as the two arms men come barreling toward me. Gripping the chain tighter, I yank harder, Belore’s body rasping for air. Huge arms wrap around me while the other arms man swings his large fist, slamming it into my face. The strength in my arms falter, and the arms man clutching me jerks me off Belore. Thrown against the wall, my body collapses in a heap, a dull ache spreading all over me but nothing like the throbbing in my face.
“Get in here!” the man who threw me calls to the others. The remaining four arms men and Richter enter the room and take in the scene. “We caught her trying to murder our King,” he tells the others.
The arms men who hit me checks Belore’s red, swollen neck for a pulse.
“He’s still alive.”
My heart sinks, my hope disappearing like dust in the wind—if only I’d had another minute.
The skinny pervert approaches me, squatting down to get close to my face.
“We need to teach you a lesson. Belore will appreciate it when he wakes from the healing chamber.” His one crooked tooth is visible in the curl of his fiendish lips.
Two arms men lift Belore off the bed, carrying him out of the room, his body limp in their arms. The arms man who threw me against the wall grabs me on one side while the pervert takes the other. I’m hauled up from the floor, my head still fuzzy from the hit to my face. Easily, they toss me on the bed, both of them holding me face down.
“We’re not permitted to take her in the pussy, but we can take pleasure from her ass,” the larger arms man says to the skinny pervert.
With those words, I fight to get them off me, swinging my fisted hands at them. Setting the weight of his body on my back, the larger arms man keeps me held down while the skinny pervert grabs hold of the cuffs on my arms, pinning my arms to the mattress above me. My heartbeat thuds in my ears so loud, their voices become muffled.
“One of you needs to take my place, hold her arms down. I want her first. The bitch owes me.”
Tears well in my eyes, my chest so tight, it’s difficult to suck in each breath. I
would’ve taken their abuse and death had I been able to kill Belore, but to take their physical assault while Belore lives is tearing a devastating hole through my heart.
Richter’s voice gives me a glimmer of hope.
“None of you will be pleasuring yourselves in her ass. King Belore wants her for himself first, all of her. Flog her, then take her back to her room.”
“We’re going to do more than flog her,” the arms man on my back growls. “She’s been caught attempting murder of our King. She deserves to be raped and beaten.”
“That’s for King Belore to decide. Not you,” he barks.
“What are you going to do to stop us, Richter? There’s four of us who want to feel her tight ass around our cocks. Odds aren’t in your favor.”
Boots stomp the floor, nearing the bed as my clouded head spins, tears soaking the bedspread beneath my face.
“You’re really willing to disobey my orders, boy? She doesn’t belong to any of you. She belongs to our King, so unless you want his wrath, I suggest you set your thoughts aside and do as told.”
Curse words spill out of his mouth as his weight lifts off my back. Gasping for breath, I curl my legs toward my chest and cough in air.
“She’s getting more than flogged,” the arms man challenges. “She needs to bleed.”
CHAPTER FIVE
FIORA
After being thrown into Matheas’s arms, he carries me to the shower, running warm water over my bloody back, dabbing me with a towel after. My split skin from the Iowan soldiers’ whipping burns like fire over my back and ass. If it wasn’t for Richter once again coming to my aid, I know it would’ve been worse. He ordered them to end the punishment and return me to my room to await Belore’s punishment the next day.
Unable to walk, Matheas carries me to the bed, laying me on my side, careful not to inflame the wounds on my backside. Etched in his wrinkled forehead and tight mouth are the signs of his bottled rage. Stroking my hair and side, he soothes my tears with his touch.
“I can’t stand by and watch you suffer like this. I love you, Fi. Seeing him torture you is killing me.”
“If you’re right and Ryker is coming, all we need to do is hold out another day or two, maybe a week. If you fight them, trying to protect me, they’ll kill you. Where will that leave me?” Taking his hand, I clutch it to my chest. “It would leave me alone, broken, and scared. Having you here with me is giving me the strength I need to endure their abuse.”
Lying on his side, he’s careful as he brings me into his arms and warmth.
“Tomorrow will be worse when Belore is out of the healing chamber. He’ll want to make you suffer. He might ra—” Beneath my hand, his muscles tighten. Jaw clenching, he can’t say the word.
“I’ll recover if he rapes me. It won’t break me.” Even though I say the words, deep in my heart, I fear it too. How badly will those nightmares haunt me after? Will it taint the way I respond to a man’s touch?
Hand on my cheek, his beautiful blues fill with moisture as he looks into my eyes.
“I can’t bear the thought, Fi. I can’t bear him violating you like that.”
Placing my hand over his, I caress his fingers with my thumb.
“Whatever happens to me, I’ll survive it because I have you. Your love is enough to protect my heart from whatever I must endure.”
In his arms, I’m held atop his chest as he continues to lovingly stroke and kiss me, his touch and my exhaustion finally lulling me to sleep. That peace is brief. Every time I move, I’m awakened by the friction of the bed touching the tender wounds on my back. Each time, Matheas wakes, massages my side, and soothes me back to sleep.
When morning comes, he lifts me from the bed, carrying me to the shower and once again tends to my wounds. The bedroom door opens, and we both tense. Leaving me in the bathroom, he checks to see who it is. A scuffle breaks out between Matheas and two arms men, their voices rising in anger. Towel wrapped around me, I stand through the pain and rush out the door. Just as I come out, Matheas is secured by two Iowan arms men, his bottom lip swollen and bloody, red blotches on his arms and chest. A third arms man, the man who whipped me, grips my arm, tearing the towel off me.
“You’re going to the healing chamber, then to our King for the punishment you deserve,” he seethes. “Say goodbye to your lover. He’ll be dead come sundown.”
“No!” Jerking myself from his grasp, I rush to Matheas. Tears sting my eyes, trickling down my cheeks. With all my rage, I attack the arms man on the left, my fist slamming into his jaw, my knee shoving into his groin. It’s enough to loosen his grip on Matheas, who fights the other arms man off.
The wind up of a laser gun sings behind me. I drop to the floor, spit dribbling out of my mouth as the heat and power of its blast demobilizes me. Another blast and Matheas is on his knees, clenching his teeth through the pain as he reaches for me.
Taking his hand, I drag my body to his. The butt of one of their guns is slammed into Matheas’s head. Collapsing atop me, I fall under his weight, my chest heaving sobs.
“Get them both to the healing chamber. It’s not time for them to die yet.”
* * *
As soon as I wake, I lift the cover of the healing tube and take in my surroundings. There are three Iowan arms men standing by the exit, and the healing tube next to me is empty. Fear seizes my chest, gripping me in its agonizing hold.
“Where’s Matheas?” I demand.
There’s a snicker from the tall, broad arms man who whipped me. Olive green eyes take in the details of my naked body, reminding me of Belore’s—glossy with a mixture of desire and animosity.
“He’s been escorted to Belore’s suite. They’re waiting for you.”
With the devious curl of his lip, I know something horrible awaits me. Escorted through the palace, my muscles stiffen with each step.
“Where is the arms man, Richter?”
Grip tightening on my arm, the olive-eyed soldier scowls at me.
“In the palace prison getting whipped.”
My mouth drops open, my hand flying to it. “What for?”
“Someone helped you drug our King. You didn’t do it alone. I reported his efforts in keeping us from punishing you. The King feels he has a soft spot for you. He’s beating it out of him.”
Chest tight, my face warm and tingling, I feel suffocated with sympathy for Richter and hatred for Belore. Nearing Belore’s bedroom suite, I hear Matheas grunt in pain. The automated door opens to an arms man punching Matheas in the stomach while two other soldiers restrain him. From his slumped shoulders and labored breathing, he’s been enduring this beating for some time. The oncoming of tears prickles my eyes, but I won’t let them come, not now, not in front of Belore.
Wrapping my arms around my chest, I hide the shiver rushing up my spine as I enter the room. A wild fear fills Matheas’s eyes as he watches me cross the threshold. The soldier in front of him lands another blow, his fist making contact with Matheas’s face. Blood spatters across the floor, and there’s no fighting it, I go after the soldier. Strong arms grip me on either side, keeping me from attacking him.
“Looks like you didn’t whip the fight out of her, after all.” The sinister voice I’ve come to loathe originates from my left, near the bed. “Secure her to the bed frame,” Belore orders.
Yanking my wrist from the soldier on my right, I punch the soldier to my left. Fist raised, he intends to hit me, but Belore’s voice stops him.
“I said, secure her!”
Fist-tight hands squeeze my arms as I’m forced over to the bedframe and secured to it with wrist cuffs. Standing at the end of the bed, I glower at Belore. Black boots pound the marble tiled floor as he approaches. Gripping my jaw, his fingers squeeze, instantly causing pain. Emerald green eyes bore into me, his hot breath breathing down on me, his nostrils flared.
“They all thought I’d be livid you tried to kill me, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Fiora. You wouldn’t be who you are i
f you’d cowered. But now, you’ve made it clear you won’t be submitting to me willingly, which will make what I’m about to do so much more enjoyable. Just remember.” Lifting my chin, he brings my lips to his. “I gave you the opportunity to do this the easy way.”
Scrunching my face in discomfort, I pull back from his forced kiss. Hand held at the back of my head, he keeps me in place, applying more pressure to the kiss. When he releases me, I spit at his face, and he laughs, wiping his long-sleeve black shirt across his mouth and cheek.
“Tie him up and gut him,” Belore tells his soldiers, his deadly gaze never leaving my eyes.
Attention whipping to Matheas, I watch in horror as they raise his weakened body, securing his wrists in cuffs dangling at the ends of chains bolted to the ceiling. Without a shirt, there are visible bruises on his ribs and smears of blood that’s dripped down from his nose and the broken skin on his cheek. When the soldier in front of him withdraws a blade from a holster on his belt, my eyes widen in terror. The chain cuffs clink against the frame as I plead.
“No! Please, Belore, don’t!”
The large, pointed blade slices through Matheas’s rib like a knife through butter. Crimson red trickles down his side as he groans in agony. Belore grips my face, forcing me to look at him.
“He’ll survive the wound, but each time you disobey me or fight me, we’ll cut him deeper each time.”
“What do you want?” I ask between clenched teeth.
“For you to learn how to be the Queen I want.”
With force, he shoves my face, and my back hits the metal bar of the bed frame. Wincing, I watch him in rage as he walks away from me, going to the opposite side of the bed.
“Send her in,” he orders his soldiers.
An arms man steps out, quickly returning with the young woman from Ryker’s kitchen staff. In a short, black dress without shoulder straps, she enters the room. Seeing everything in front of her, she hugs her arms around herself, her frightened brown eyes meeting mine.
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