Page 15 of The King's Omega
Iwoke suddenly, my pulse racing and my breath harsh. Where was I?
I was lying face-up on something hard, a table perhaps, with my arms and legs restrained. The room, if it was a room, was dark and chilly, but smelled pleasantly of warm oil and leather. I drew in a great breath, then released it when I felt eyes watching me.
A light flared, blinding me. A candle flickered in the hand of a terrifying shadow man. The one who had taken me from the Great Hall.
“Are you frightened, kitten?” He asked, his icy voice stabbing like a spiked chain, leaving pinpricks of terror across my flesh. Mybareflesh.
I thrashed wildly against the ropes, my hips bumping against the hard wood below me. “Let me go,” I pleaded, wishing I could muster a loud shout or a curse. Someone might hear and come to help. But my voice came out as a whimper.
The man stepped closer, and I saw his sharp nose, straight brow, and deep brown eyes that gleamed with intelligence and restrained violence. His skin was tawny, almost the same shade as mine, and he wore black, matching the raven’s wing hair that swooped over one eye. His words sliced at the shreds of my courage. “Youarefrightened, kitten. Don’t worry. I won’t harm you… much.”
Kitten? Why would he… “Mischief!” I shouted, tugging at the ropes again. “Where is she, my kitten? She was in my pocket…”
“You’re worried for your pet?” The man turned, a black cape swirling as he did, and lit another candle on a table, where Mischief lay curled in a ball on top of a tea towel. She had obviously been drinking cream out of a small saucer nearby.
“Who drinks tea in a torture dungeon?” I wondered aloud.
“This isn’t a torture dungeon,” the man said. His tone was no longer cold and cruel, but slightly confused. Maybe I could confound him into letting me go. Madam always said I could talk the flies off shit.
“So you say.” I nodded at the chains and devices I could see hanging from the wall beside me. “I beg to differ. It may be my first dungeon, but I’m pretty sure this is what they have. Spooky lighting, torture devices, a creepy man in a cape, dressed all in black and threatening the captive…” I shrugged, about all the movement I could manage. “Torture dungeon.”
If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn a smile flickered across the shadow man’s face.
“I am Vilkurn. You are Novalia, known as Vali. And this is a dungeon, but not a torture dungeon, as you say.” He leaned closer and let his next words sink in slowly. “I do have one of those as well, if you’d like a change of location.”
“Um, no,” I squeaked, wondering what other kinds of dungeons there were. “This one is very nice. Though I’m not sure what it says that you feel the need for two dungeons. That’s a bit greedy.”Goddess, what am I saying? Am I berating a man who owns not one, but two dungeons? Possibly he tortured so many captives in the first that he needed more space.
“I am greedy, kitten.” Vilkurn traced my nose with one finger, then my cheeks, then my lips. “I’ve got you locked away, all to myself. By the stars, you’re stunning.” Up close, Vilkurn was stunning as well. His dark eyes had glints of gold, amber sparks that caught and pinned me, slowly drowning in the heat of his gaze.
I closed my eyes, hoping he couldn’t see the goosebumps or my tight nipples in the low light. “Please don’t… do whatever you’re planning.” I would not give him ideas by suggesting things not to do. A man with two dungeons would already have enough ideas.
Finally, my predicament overwhelmed me. “Don’t hurt me, please. Let me go.” A tiny sob crept out.
Vilkurn let out a deep sigh. “I can’t release you; my king ordered me to punish you.” He lifted his hand, holding a jar, not a whip or anything nefarious. “When I carried you here, I noticed blood seeping through your dress. I removed your clothing to treat your wounds.” He nodded at the scratches on my stomach. “Your little kitten did that?”
I exhaled shakily. No one would believe me if I revealed Selene’s abuse. No one had so far, anyway; the woman was too perfect. And I was, admittedly, a lover of mischief. Or mischief loved me—no matter how I tried to behave, things fell apart in my presence. Cuts and scrapes were a regular occurrence, not just from Selene.
Suddenly the man’s hands were on me, smoothing cream from the jar into my skin in small perfect circles. It warmed my flesh and took away the stinging pain.Oh, Goddess.Why did I suddenly wish Selene had scratched me all over?
“Why are you treating my wounds just to t-torture me?” I licked my lips with cautious hope. A man who treated my wounds and fed my kitten couldn’t be all that bad. And he smelled amazing, like saddles and summer and sweet mint slipping into my mouth as I sucked in breath after breath.
He couldn’t be a bad man, not smelling like that, and caring for me so thoughtfully. He could be like Axe—scary on the outside, but soft-hearted and lovely on the inside.
“You could always let me go. I’ll act plenty tortured, I promise. Listen.” I moaned pitifully, a warbling cry. “Please stop, Vilkurn! I’m bleeding, I’m dying, ahhh!” I took a breath, hearing someone pound at the door. “See? It sounds real,” I whispered, then screeched, “No, no, don’t burn me, don’t take my eyes, not the tar, not the boiling pitch…. ahhhhh!”
My scream became genuine as the door exploded in a shower of splinters and broken planks. “Axe!” I shouted, watching as my mountain of a man hefted his axe toward Vilkurn, who stood, gaping. “Don’t hurt him, I was acting!”
Axe was panting, blowing like a bull, his eyes wide and rolling as he fought for control.
“Really, I’m fine, Axe. We were, um, pretending this was a torture dungeon. So the king wouldn’t get mad at Vilkurn.”
Axe’s gaze roved over me. As if someone had extinguished a match, the rage in his eyes died and was replaced by a different sort of fire.
“Um, yeah. So, I’m naked,” I joked, as a full-body blush crept from my face to my feet, and Axe’s eyes—and Vilkurn’s—traced every exposed curve.
My stomach started doing that clenching thing again, and a droplet of liquid gathered and fell to the wooden table. I was glad it was dark. With my legs spread by the ropes, more light would have revealed the shameful dripping.
As if they heard it fall, they both flinched, and their features… sharpened, somehow. The air in the room thickened with scents of musk and leather, spice and heat. Axe lifted his hands and signed something to Vilkurn. A short, silent conversation ensued.
