Page 61 of His Dark Delights
“You cut him free with a breakfast knife,” he scoffed, half-amused and irritated. Then he whirled around, eyes pointed with suspicion. “Were you intending to set him free the entire time? Were you plotting against me?”
“No! How dare you hurl vile accusations against me? You’ve known from the start that I loathe this war and everything with it. I merely went with my instinct in the moment.”
His Majesty crossed the distance between us, and the air crackled with overcharged tension. His chest vibrated in a snarl and his nostrils flared. The low words he uttered sent a chill down my spine. “And your instinct was to betray me?”
I rose on the tips of my toes, close enough that he felt my breath on his lips. His pupils dilated as hebreathed me in, my smell, my warmth, my closeness.
“My instinct was to stand up to you, Butcher. I will not be one of the thousand sheep in your flock, blindly following your trail of blood.”
The king’s hand shot up between us. His fingers curled under my chin, squishing my cheeks until my lips pursed. His furious exhale breezed over my mouth and his hand trembled on my face.
“Gods, even now I want you. Burning with rage yet blinded by desire. I should be punishing you for your… your treason. The Grand Duchess has demanded it, and even my council questions about your purpose here.” His tongue darted out, flicking over his bottom lip. “Should I put you in the dungeon, Lilliana? It’s what my advisors say I should do.”
“Put me in the fucking dungeon then, Butcher,” I mumbled through his near painful grip.
Soren bent his forehead to mine, body trembling. “I could devour you whole. Sit you on my throne, spread your legs and make you scream. And you’d scream so loud the whole fucking castle—the kingdom—would hear my name on your lips. All the world would know your repentance for your actions if I fucked the insolence out of you.”
My hand smacked across his face, sending him reeling. With his grip loosened from my face and much needed distance between us, I stole desperate steps back.
“Fuck you and fuck whatever apology you think you are owed. I told you once and I’ll say it again… I hate your war and I hate you. Punish me as you see fit, but as long as you act like a feral butcher, you’ll have no comfort, no peace, and no love from me.”
His head jerked up, and he skimmed his fingers over the red spreading on his cheek. A lovely mark from my hand, blooming like a rose. I hoped he’d feel the sting of it for hours. He deserved that and more for the suffering he’d caused.
When his stormy blue eyes drifted to the necklace I wore, I turned into stone. For a moment, I wondered if he’d ask for it back. And damn the gods, it hurt to think of letting it go.
“Go to your room, Lilly. I’ll deal with you later,” he ordered.
“Gladly. Don’t bother coming to my room. You’ll find one door locked and the other with a rather sturdy dresser in front of it.” I whirled on my heel, stomping away as fast as my legs could carry me.
“Don’t you dare, Lilliana!” he roared after me.
“Fuck you,” I shot back.
A massive sigh of relief wheezed out of me when I reached my door. No one stopped me in the halls, and the king didn’t follow. A small voice in my head was disappointed that he didn’t. Part of me wanted him to follow me across the palace, burst through the door to my chamber, toss me on the bed, and fuck me until my eyes rolled into the back of my head.
Perhaps it was better this way. We needed time apart to breathe and consider our standing.
Mrs. Gibbons brought dinner. Though there was a noticeable tension in the way she side-eyed me. Not of suspicion, but fear, perhaps. For me or of me, I couldn’t say.
Fear for my madness, and that maybe it was contagious.
Darkness settled over Elleslan while I nibbled onherb roast, buttered potatoes, and warm bread. The meal eased the frayed edges of the fresh hole in my heart. Only a hot dinner and the knowledge I spared a life today saved me from falling into heart-wrenching despair black enough to match the night sky.
Hours passed, and no king knocked on my door. The moon rose higher into the dome of the sky, and by midnight no butcher had snuck through the hidden door under the tapestry.
I locked the main door to my room as I promised. After that, I gripped the edges of the dresser and began the painstaking task of shoving the heavy wooden structure across the floor. Years on a farm served me, giving me the strength to wriggle and wrestle the beast of furniture across the massive room. And I made it most of the way before a sharp tapping on glass distracted me.
A soft tapping at first, gradually growing fervent and impatient. Louder until I located the sound, knuckles rapping on the window beside the bed. In the darkness, I only saw shadows shifting on the other side of the glass. No stars, no moon, only a shape hunched over and blocking the night.
A scream rose in the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down when a faint glimmer of light outlined the form balanced on the window ledge.
“Lunaric?” I whispered.
An answering knock followed.
I raced to the window and unlatched it without a second thought. Chilly night air flushed through the window and the fire in the hearth wavered.
Shadows writhed on the walls, growing taller as the fire dimmed. The glow of the Fairy Prince’s wingsspread wide and replaced it. The prince balanced in the window, half in the sapphire castle and half out in the wind, ready to soar.
