Page 1 of Fire Kissed
The Gala
Rhys
I don’t even knowthat man. I spent so much time trusting him that it never occurred to me how easily I could hate him.
She wraps her long, delicate arm around Torben as she sways in his lap to press firmly against his broad chest. His long fingers splay across Hela’s thigh as her thin dress splits at the thigh, veering high to reveal the highlighted angles of her bare hip and even more.
I swallow hard, but I’m very aware that the dress Torben has chosen for me tonight matches hers in style. My lashes flutter as I peer down at the deep plunge of my thin, shimmery gown. It’s sensual. Incredibly so. But pretty in a magical way. Disgustingly pretty, I think to myself when I lift my attention back up from the chair my wrists are locked into. The metal bites at my flesh, but the ebony chair beneath me doesn’t move an inch.
I’ve sat like this every night for three nights now. Different gowns line my body while different dance partners sway in sensuous circles around me. I’ve come to know what to expect now.
I don’t understand the Realm of Hell though. It’s frivolous in Hela’s presence and dark and tormenting in other areas. Screams lull me to sleep at night. Screams... and the flashes of what Torben has become right before my eyes.
“Torben,” Hela says loudly, a smile like sin stretching across her face.
The dancers grind against one another in the dimly lit room of the cavernous castle. They continue to enjoy the festivities, but they are all too aware of what’s to come.
And so am I.
“Torben, Miss Love doesn’t seem to be enjoying the nightly gala.” Hela’s cold gaze cuts severely to me. As does the gaze of the crowned King who sits quietly next to her.
As does Torben’s.
And unfortunately, as does my mother’s.
I haven’t spoken to her since I flung myself into this literal hellhole. She’s bound, as I am. It seems invisible cuffs weight her wrist but instead of binding her to a chair, the magical imprisonment links her at the King’s side. She never leaves the mysterious man. Her eyes are held on me as her petite shoulders lunge forward when the King leans up slightly in his chair to get a better view. Tired arms hang at her sides, waiting for the show to begin.
His presence is like a shadow across this room, covering everything and everyone. He picks me apart with his eating eyes, taking in my every detail and every move.
“Perhaps she could use some company.” The repulsive man, Serpan, slithers through a tight, manic smile. He takes a single step toward me, my teeth grinding hard at the very idea of him touching me again.
But he’s stopped short.
Torben stands tall. He knocks the slender man out of the way as he strides out to the center of the well of dancers. To loom over me once more.
‘As you wish,” he tells his Queen from over the fast-paced strings of harps. Unseen elven fingers pluck the strings in a harsh chaotic melody that drives me mad with each clapping foot that dances by.
My glare is held high on him while my stomach twists round and round in perfect, nauseating tune. He waits for his Queen’s orders.
The vomit at the back of my throat waits as well.
“Entertain her, Torben,” she commands like glass shattering in a hailstorm of destruction.
Each heartbeat that stumbles by is a thrashing rage that builds inside of me. The beast buried deep inside growls, but my magic is so stunted here, it feels more like a tired purr.
“Like this,” the King adds after several beats have slipped by without Torben moving a single inch.
I don’t want to. I don’t want to look at him as the tall elven man rises from his chair and slowly lowers himself at my mother’s feet. The churning in my stomach sloshes when I finally flick my gaze quickly toward her to see what fate I’ll soon suffer.
Only to find the King on his knees, his long fingers pushing intimately at the hem of my mother’s long, white gown. Her eyes clench closed, as do her thighs.
But she and I both know how it will all end.
The dryness at the back of my throat is swallowed down, and instead of closing my eyes as his rough palm glides up my calf, I lift my lashes and glare deeply into dark, jaded eyes. The rise and fall of his bare chest matches the rhythm of every anxious breath I take.
I once dragged my fingers down each one of his abs. The shy smile he had when I did it isn’t against his lips right now. A hard-carved frown lines his face. His long golden hair skims along my knee when his head dips low, and just like the King’s example from across the room, he kisses sweetly, tenderly.
My thighs clench, but it’s a confusing sensation. It always is. He teases my flesh in a demanding way that rushes past all my hatred and delves down into the neediest part of me. It shouldn’t feel good. He brought me here to be another one of Hela’s prisoners.
