Page 78 of The Demon King's Destiny

Chapter 20

Four days after the solstice …

“If you keep dressing like a male, I’m going to start thinking you don’t want me to touch you.”

Evelyn turned to the reverberating voice behind her. She’d felt Marrok arrive. Sneaking up on her now seemed to be an impossibility.

She walked into his awaiting arms, offering her cheek for him to nuzzle. The sparks of static that had yet to die down tickled her skin where it met his.

“You don’t like my riding breeches?”

“I like them fine. If you were going riding. When we’re together, I like you in your silky night things. Or out of them.”

Her face flushed and her belly tightened with need. Unfortunately, they had things to discuss, and little time to do so.

“I am going riding. I’ll be woken any minute.”

His smile died.“It’s the middle of the night, Evelyn.”

“I’m aware. Sit,” she stepped back and motioned to the chairs at the table. “This has to be fast. We don’t have much time.”

Marrok’s eyes narrowed. His mate’s voice was off, almost hoarse. Her eyes were rimmed red.

“I think I’ll stand and you’ll tell me immediately what has happened.”

“Fine. An attempt was made on Nora’s life, during her welcoming banquet at Castle Burghard. She was—she was poisoned,” she hiccupped, wrestling with the impulse to breakdown. She’d cried enough earlier in the day.

He reached to comfort her and she stepped to the side, waving him off. His hands clenched, but he gave her the space she seemed to need.

“We received word as soon as Kellan could get it to us. She is alive, though I don’t know much more than that. Father says we’re leaving tonight, he fears Eden and I aren’t safe.”

Ideas flew through Marrok, considering any immediate steps he needed to take. Evelyn’s mother had been murdered by members of Sephtis Kenelm. They’d poisoned her. News of a similar attempt on Edward’s youngest child carried echoes of that past event.

Though the brotherhood had been wiped out, Edward was right to worry. If it were Marrok, he’d hide his children away from everyone. Even from a powerful king who wanted to court one of them.

Marrok couldn’t allow her to be taken from him, even temporarily. They’d waited long enough and he’d no longer deny his need to have her close and protect her himself.

“I’ll come for you now,” Marrok insisted.

“I won’t be here by the time you arrive. That’s not what’s important right now, anyway. I need you to take my dream from last night. I haven’t told anyone about it, but I think I’m going to have to say something to Father in light of what’s happened to Nora.”

She reached for Marrok’s hands and lifted them to each side of her face. “Hurry.”

The panic in Evelyn’s voice spurred Marrok to comply. He concentrated until he had Evelyn’s dream in his mind’s eye.

Melena was staring at herself in front of a full-length mirror, the one in her quarters. She brushed her hair methodically, counting in her head. One hundred strokes, as she did every night before bed.

Pulling her long mane over her right shoulder, she braided it and tied it off with a white ribbon edged with gold. His stomach rolled. He remembered that ribbon. Covered in red.

Nimble fingers unbuttoned the top of her yellow dress, stopping just below her breasts. She pulled the loose fabric apart, exposing her chest. Ample cleavage heaved with her quickened breath. She unclasped her necklace, the one Marrok had worn after her death, and hung it on the post of the mirror.

He could feel hints of fear overshadowed by her resolve. Trembling fingers reached for a knife on the table to the right. When she stood erect once more, her focus zeroed in on the reflection of dark swirling script written across the skin above her heart.

Marrok inhaled sharply. Melena didn’t have any markings on her skin. Anywhere. He knew every inch of her and he’d never seen this tattoo.

He watched in horror as she squared her shoulders and slashed the sharp blade across the offensive letters. Over and over until nothing but ribbons of mutilated flesh, oozing with blood, remained.

She’d gritted her teeth, but made no sound. He felt her perverse satisfaction at defiling the design.

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