Page 109 of Of Skulls Of Shackles

He snarled again and tore the top of my dress in two. The ends of it fell around my beaded hips, and my underthings were revealed. His rage was stolen away.

The “underthings” behaved more like a frame behaved for a painting. Thin, red straps framed my breasts and curves, cutting into my skin in a way that must drive a king wild, for I was the painting. I plucked a trailing thread of the beads around my hips and drew the onyx strand between my framed breasts.

See fell to his knees with the fall of the beads over my stomach. He gripped my hips over the torn remains of the dress, then buried his face against the flat of my stomach. His groan was robbed of hope.

I liked that he attempted to withstand me. I enjoyed using his emotions against him too. I had decided to drag a confession of love from him, so he was powerless, really.

I drew a fingernail around my hips, and the ragged remains of the midnight dress fell away to reveal the rest of my painting and frames. King See would encounter no fabric resistance wherever he may choose to go, but I imagined the underthings would end up torn, nevertheless.

I circled him and sliced away his tunic. “I have need of a careful king, but not tonight.”

“Perantiqua, hear me when I say that nothing else could stop me from choosing your body. Nothing else, but ensuring the ruin of our future. Give me any other choice, and I will make it gladly. But I cannot speak words of love to you.”

Anger rose in me. I pushed it down, and after casting his tunic on the floor, I padded up to the painting of me.

He sucked in a breath at the sight of my naked back and feathered skirt.

I looked at the Perantiqua who had first undone him. She had not known it, but after that, King See had become my creature. Glancing back at him, I lay down on the stones in front of the painting. I arched my back as she had done. I swept my hand across my stomach.

She was dressed.

My chest was bared.

She could not stand to look at him—and could not have if she had tried.

I looked directly into a milky gaze.

He was shirtless and on his knees and hopeless, and his focus darted between the painting of me and the reality of me. He had existed in all versions.

See exhaled as if in pain, and moved forward onto hands and knees as if he might crawl to me.

“There has only been you, See,” I whispered, pushing my hand further down.

His gaze lifted to the painting, and then dropped to me again. See fell forward and dropped his head into his hands on the floor. “Torture me no longer.I cannot!”

See slammed his fist onto the floor and his palace rumbled.

He was coming undone. But so was I.

“Stand,” I commanded as I rose.

See did so, and I walked to him. I regarded him, then trailed the same forefinger to the front of his pants. “Shall I slice these off?”

His lips curved. “That would depend on what you intend to slice.”

Mylips curved. “I love you, See. What is your answer?”

I sliced through belt and his pants. They separated like dirt drawn upon by a stick. I sliced down and the front of his trousers gaped.

I had never seen him in fullness. I had never seen his cock, but I was about to cut his cock off to draw a confession of love from his thin lips. His length was tucked inside the parts of his trousers still intact, but I could see his hardness.

I set my forefinger under his cock, and the feel stole my breath away. “Do you love me, See?”

“How would you know it was true if you hear it in such circumstances?” he snapped, and his palace squeezed.

A king was entirely too confident when a queen could slice off his favorite body part on a whim.

King See lowered his head. “You will not slice off the cock you need.”

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