Page 43 of Midnight Queen

“Make sure you change your bandages after you shower,” I instruct tersely instead. “We wouldn’t want you getting an infection.”

Quincey whirls around, eyes glaring with anger. “Get out!” she yells, gesturing at the open door behind me. “I can’t do this right now—I can’t deal with you right now.”

“That’s unfortunate seeing as I don’t intend on going anywhere.” I shrug out of the black suit jacket I wear and fold it neatly before placing it on the bed she hasn't slept in since coming home. “It appears that my concern for your health and safety is no longer being appreciated,” I observe, while removing the black diamond cuff links from my black button-down so I can roll the sleeves up.

Her hand drops and irritation twists her pretty face. “Your concern has morphed into coddling. You handling me with kid gloves is notappreciated.” She stares at me and whatever she finds reflected in my expression she must not like because she charges at me, her finger pointing at my face. “Andthat! I fucking hate that look on your face.”

She shoves at my chest. If she was anyone else, I’d never allow such behavior, but for her, I try to remain still despite the stirring anger I feel in my veins. “I don’t know what you’re referring to,” I grit.

“You’re looking at me like I’m broken and you’re treating me like something you need to fix!” Despite her raised voice, not once does it waiver. She remains strong. “I’ve been treated a lot of ways in my life, but I refuse to tolerate this. I was treated like a verbal punching bag by my mother, and sometimes when she drank just a little too much, I was her physical one too. But I found a way to get through it. I have been used and traded like a goddamn pawn by almost every one of the men in my life. First, my dad traded me to pay a debt, and then you used me in your own way too. But I found a way to get through it.”

Her hands drop, stopping their assault on my chest. She steps back, composing herself. Swallowing, she lifts her chin and looks at me as she says, “I was used as a ploy in a war that hadnothingto do with me. I was kidnapped and tortured because I was viewed as something to be usedyetagain. But I found a way to get through it. It changed me, but I fucking got through it. Whether you want to believe me or not, I’m okay, Silas.”

None of this is new information but it affects me like it is. My chest vibrates, knowing that so many people treated her without the dignity and respect she deserves. Myself included. While I don’t regret having her in my life, I regret the way in which she was brought into it. I was no better than her father when I paid her debt and blackmailed her into working with me.

“Quincey…”

“And I really need you to believe me because if you keep coddling me and looking at me like I’m damaged, I’m going to scream. That is the one thing I can’t get through.” She steps forward and her hand grips my chin. “I am not something that can be used or traded. I am not broken and I’m not a pawn. I am a fucking queen.” Quincy’s hand drops from my chin to trail down my chest. “I could be your queen, Silas, if you’d only look at me as such.”

My queen.I’ve ruled alone for so long. Never have I had a desire to share that responsibility with anyone else, but then came Quincey and her fiery spirit. Could she really be strong enough to stand at my side?

“You have no idea what you’re offering, Quincey.” My hand snakes up to rest over hers, but the second I brush my fingertips across her skin, she snaps her hand away.

The step she backs away from me further ignites the irritation I’m experiencing. It dawns on me as I narrow my eyes at her that this is what she’s been feeling all week. Any amount of distance between us is unacceptable, and all week I’ve been the one stepping away from her. Even if I thought my intentions were in the right place.

“You’re wrong again. I knowexactlywhat I’m offering, and I know exactly what I want.” Her chest heaves under her simple black bra she wears. “I want the dark king who looked at me with so much passion I didn’t know if he wanted to fuck me or kill me. I want the man who touched me without asking permission and grabbed onto me like if he didn’t he was going to die. I want that man, but where the hell is he? I haven’t seen him all week and I fucking miss him.”

Quincey’s hands shove violently at my chest again. Even if she’s putting every ounce of her strength behind it, I don’t flinch. Her palms connect with my sternum, but before she can pull away, my hands encircle her wrists and I pull her closer to me. “He didn’t go anywhere, he’s been here the whole time,” I seethe, dropping my head so we’re eye to eye. A fire I’ve never seen burns in her eyes.

It shines with a level of strength that catches me off guard. Has that been there all week and I’ve just been so blinded by my own worry, I’ve missed it completely?

She yanks her hands, trying to get free of my grasp. The only reason I release her is because I don’t want to cause further strain on her healing nerves.

But what she does next makes me think letting her go may have been a mistake.

“No, he’s not. He’s not here and I want him back! Give him back to me!”

I didn’t think anything could catch me by surprise anymore. I thought I’d experienced it all, but when her palm connects against my cheek in a violent slap, I’m admittedly stunned silent. But the shock is fleeting and replaced with overwhelming rage.

Before she can so much as blink, I’ve grabbed hold of her and have her pinned by her throat against the wall. A snarl rips through my chest. “Is this what you want?” I question darkly, close to her face.

The last time I had her in this position, she at least had the decency to know she’d lost, but now, she looks at me like she’s won. “Fuckingfinally. There he is.” Her pink lips pull in a wicked grin and her pulse pounds against my fingers. “This is the man I want. This is the man I fell in love with.”

There’s been a few times since I met Quincey that I thought I felt my heart beat once more, and this is now one of those times.

Love. I never thought I’d be worthy of someone’s love again. No one should willingly hand their heart over to a monster like me, but Quincey, without any fear, is doing just that.

I have collected countless priceless items over the years, each one rarer and more valuable than the next, but all of it is worthless compared to Quincey’s heart. Her heart is the most priceless item I have ever been gifted.

It’s been over three hundred years since my tongue has strung together the three words I know without a shadow of a doubt to be how I feel about Quincey Page. Yet, as I stare down at those eyes that remind me of a clear blue sky, I can’t bring myself to say them. Not because I don't want to, but because they don’t feel like they’reenough.

I cannot truly encapsulate what I feel for Quincey in three simple words.

Quincey’s admission sits heavy between us for only a moment before I’m taking ownership of her lips with my own. She doesn’t yelp in surprise or stiffen under my touch, instead she sighs in relief. Relief that I’m giving her what she’s needed from me all along.

My gentle touches and tender care weren’t aiding her healing—they were hindering it.

Her hand reaches up, covering mine that still collars her throat. She doesn’t make any effort to remove the dominating hold. If anything, she signals me to increase the pressure on her delicate throat by squeezing my fingers.

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