Page 63 of His Queen

A wash of cold water ices over me from head to toe, like a stream of broken shards of glass piercing my skin as it flows down. It seeps deep into my bones, my body convulsing from the icy shock. It’s too much to contain, so I let it out through my tormented cries.

“Time to clean up and let the fun begin.” His familiar voice bleeds into my ears as the air is sucked from my body, leaving my lungs on the verge of collapse.

Nunzio squeezes and pours a bottle of soap all over me, the thick, clear liquid sliding down my stomach, my legs, and I’m shivering so hard my teeth clatter together, my skin nothing but pricks of pain.

It smells like ylang-ylang and ginger, but my mind morphs the pleasant, familiar aroma into a putrid stench that’s foul and repugnant.

The soap is pressed hard against my skin with what feels like bristles of metal and is mercilessly scrubbed over me with a pressure that leaves me breathless. Tears sting my eyes as the soapy bubbles sting the cuts covering my body. My mind goes numb, and I forget to breathe as the fear screams within me.

“Squeaky, squeaky clean,” he taunts. “The last thing we want is our guests to hunt a disgustingly dirty prey.”

More water is splashed over me, the freezing cold turning my body into a useless mass.

Pain shoots up my arm as I’m jerked up by my elbow. There are so many hands on me, I don’t know where to fight and claw to get them off me.

Nunzio appears in front of me, staring at me like a proud guardian would look at his ward. “I’ve never said this to any of my girls before, but I hope you survive, birdie. I really do.”

He steps up close, his breath like fire on my cheek. “We had some fun times, birdie. But I’m afraid it has now come to an end.”

A needle is forced into my arm, and fear grips me tight as the room starts to spin in a blur of colors and sounds. Terror crawls inside me, twisting my insides until I’m blinded by it. Until I’m…nothing.

CHAPTERTWENTY

NICOLI

My heart poundsagainst my chest as I shut off the engine. I stroke the ribbon in my hand, caressing it fondly, reminded of a lazy Sunday afternoon against an old oak tree where a promise was made. There’s a sharp pang in my chest as I see her face, her laughter ringing in my ears like sweet music. How fucking ironic, me spending my whole life protecting her from a memory that would destroy her, and now she’s trapped in the devil’s clutches.

“Fuck!” I bellow, slamming my fist into the steering wheel, jerking open the door before stepping out into the darkness.

The promised text came through an hour ago with a pin location and clearly stated instructions to go alone. I was about to fuck that instruction in the ass when another text followed with a picture of Mirabella, passed out on a field of grass, wearing a white nightgown illuminated by the moon.

There are no words that can describe what I felt at that moment, staring at that picture in horror. Like a hurt gazelle, she lay there, innocent and so fucking vulnerable in that open field, an easy target for sick motherfuckers. I could hack my own skin off to find relief from the rage that burst through my insides, exploding from the fuel of fear.

The threat that followed was clear as day. Come alone, or she dies. It’s short and simple, but it does its job by squashing an unsurmountable amount of fear into my gut.

Alexius refused to let me go alone, but I insisted by pinning his back against the wall.

“I love you, brother. I do. But I swear to God, I will kill you if it means saving her.”

Those were the last words I said to him, and I wish it were a lie, but it’s not. There isn’t a person in this entire goddamn world I won’t kill to save her.

Now they’re all waiting a few miles from here in case I need them—an acceptable compromise.

I look up at the large, imposing estate looming before me. It’s shrouded in haunting shadows, meant to intimidate. But not me—a man who basks in the shadows and gets high off the harrowing.

Two large columns loomed to either side of the gate, statues of black horse heads towering on top. The wrought iron hinges moan as the gate opens, inviting me in, an early winter breeze spreading its chill through the trees, making them sway and creak. I know I should proceed cautiously, but the idea that she’s in there has me sprinting up the pathway, my desperate footsteps echoing in the silence. My shoes crunch the gravel beneath my feet as I run up the winding driveway. The estate seems to grow larger the closer I get, looming above me like a giant.

“Be aware of your surroundings.”

“Be aware of the competition as much as you are the prey.”

Caelian’s advice echoes in my head. If I had to choose one person I could bring with me, it would be him. I’ve seen a side to him I never knew existed, and I could do with the Jekyll to his Hyde right about now.

I hear the distant sound of a stream and the leaves of the trees rustling softly in the wind. The sky is clear, stars glimmering, and the air is filled with the smell of dirt and grass. It would be considered a romantic evening if it weren’t for the storms of hell wreaking chaos around me.

My feet come to a halt in front of the mansion, the gray stone façade as unwelcoming and cold as a tombstone. At least Nunzio could have tried to be less of a cliche by having an estate that doesn’t look like the Devil’s crib.

I look up at the front door of the house. Heavy wooden boards make up its thick, solid frame, with a large knocker shaped like a serpent adorning the center. I step cautiously toward it and feel a vibration in my back pocket. Fumbling, I pull out my phone.

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