Page 57 of His Dark Delights
I gritted through my teeth, “You said it yourself that he doesn’t genuinely want me. Wouldn’t I be better suited to the Fae Wild? Besides, if he ever learned the truth about me, I’d be where you are.”
“What a clever, lost little flower you are. Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.” The prince stuck his hand through the bars. “Get me out of here before the Butcher takes my head, and I’ll ferret you away to the land of fae and have your essence unlocked.”
Despite the fractures in my heart and the loose threads in my soul, I accepted his hand. We shook once. A tangible crackle of white magic danced over our joined hands, knocking a breath from my lips. The natural, magical power connecting me to the Fairy Prince sealed our deal—and my fate.
The walls of the palace loomed tall and oppressive around me, the stone under my feet colder than it had been in weeks. Shadows whispered of secrets and deceit, curdling my insides as I crept through the shrouded corridors. Every step in the silence echoed with the harrowing truth of my heritage and my deal with the fae. There I was in the castle of Elleslan, bearing the weight of a truth that could shatter everything. I was wholly ensnared in a web of lust and intrigue I’d never wanted to be a part of. Now plotting how to leave it all behind.
I ached for the solace of my farm’s embrace, the whispering flower petals in the meadow singing songs of my ancestors. Amidst the fanfare of splendor of the castle, I’d had to hide that side of myself. Slipping off themask in brief interludes in the garden. It was stifling.
The moon crossed the dome of the sky, skipping over stars on its nocturnal path to the horizon. Confident in the empty state of the corridors thus far, I relaxed on my ascent toward the royal wing of the palace. I let my guard down too soon.
A presence crept through the hall like a harsh wind, sweeping through the corridors with a purpose and leaving no stones unturned in her warpath. The Grand Duchess intercepted me, her face impassive save for the thinness of her wrinkled mouth. She wore a teal wig in a domed spiral atop her head, studded with pearls and gold. Her severe expression was a contrast to the soft layers of her elaborate gown falling in gentle waves to the floor.
“Lilliana, correct?” she said as a way of greeting, voice croaking with her age. Those calculating, frigid eyes pinned me in place and my nervous pulse returned faster than before.
“At your service, Your Grace.” She knew my name, of course. After a handful of dinners together at Soren’s behest, she taunted me by pretending otherwise. Yet I curtsied as the recent tutors taught me, refining what I’d learned from my father.
“Odd time of night to be sulking around the palace.” Her statement was silken, yet as sharp as knives. “Especially after the excitement of the day.”
Suspicion laced her words, setting a trap on the marble between us like unfolding spaces on a gameboard. A frisson of fear skittered along my spine. I swallowed, tipping my head to meet her gaze, refusing to visibly flinch under her scrutiny. “Exactly why I needed to go for a stroll. To clear my head.”
“Indeed.” Duchess Cecily’s smile was borderline feline, predatory and savage. “I find it intriguing you aren’t with His Majesty if you’re seeking solace. You seem to be so wrapped up in one another these days.”
“The king is kind to offer comfort,” I said, though lacking heart. “But I assure you that there is nothing the king has I can’t find on my own.”
Her cane clinked on the floor, a clank that reverberated through the inside of my skull and along the back of my teeth. Her cloying, over-perfumed scent engulfed me. “Forgive my skepticism, dear, but women of your stature have always sniffed around the base of the throne for crumbs.”
Indignation flared through me anew. Insulted twice in one night, and unable to abide the slap in the face. Everyone saw me as the king’s mistress—nothing better than his whore. I never asked for that.
“Trust me, Your Grace, I seek nothing from the king. Not power, not even his affections.” I sucked in a brittle gasp, and her eyes narrowed. “I am here because I have no other choice.”
Her gaze flicked over me before she blinked slowly.
A bolt of tension crackled around the darkened hall.
“And yet,” she clicked her tongue, “here you are. A curious enigma, if I say so myself.” Her chuckle was a brittle thing that echoed and rolled off the walls. “Lies are easily hid beneath perceived conviction.”
“Your Grace, I speak frankly. King Soren brought me here against my will. I have no designs on the throne, and I seek no favor with His Majesty.” A deep breath willed me to remain composed. “My presence here is a consequence of his desires, not mine.”
For a moment, she considered my words, searchingfor deception. I was too wrung out to mask my desire to flee, to run, to escape. And perhaps she saw that within me. The silence between us stretched taut as she assessed and evaluated me. Then, with a brief nod, she stepped back.
“Kings do have their dark delights, do they not?” With those words verging on sympathy, she turned and vanished down the corridor, leaving me with introspection and bone-deep exhaustion.
A relieved exhale pushed through my lips. That perilous encounter after leaving the dungeon threatened the unsteady ground I stood on. I would need to tread carefully if I intended to navigate toward my freedom—and the strength to leave my bleeding heart behind.
Chapter Twenty
Lilly
Dawn light filtered in through the windowpane, casting an amber glow on the lavish room. It wasn’t the light, but a slight dip of the mattress that stole me from slumber. A calloused hand slid over my hip, and he exhaled a captivated sigh upon finding me naked under the blanket.
Soren’s lips gingerly explored my shoulder blade. The warmth of him seeped under my skin and the hair on his chest tickled my spine as he moved in behind me. In the fading darkness, I forgot myself, luxuriating in the silent passion of the man wedging his knee between my thighs.
He reached around my hip, urging my leg forward. His hand dipped lower, slipping into my sex and drawing out my arousal. Fingers danced on my labiabefore targeting my clit, spreading my juices until I was quivering and slick.
Ren entered me. The delicious filling and stretching swept the breath from my lungs. His grip on me was firm and guiding as he manipulated me onto my stomach before withdrawing and thrusting back into my channel. The weight of his toned body, his impressive strength, and the heat of him crushed every concern in my mind.
Soft sounds escaped my lips each time he rolled his hips, driving deeper into me. I sighed when he pulled out and gasped when he entered. He moved slowly, steadily, rhythmically, with his head buried against the side of my neck to inhale my scent.
