My father’s favored guard did not hesitate. “She uses starvation as a means of rebellion, but in no other way has she dissatisfied.” Feet planted as if an entire temple were braced on his shoulders, Malcom was the perfect servant. The perfect informant. “I suggest a mandatory feeding schedule and the installation of rotated offerings placed in her building to attend her requirements.”
A trough of unwilling and embarrassed immortals for me to nip at when I had a hankering.
Already my cheeks heated from the mockery that would be made behind my back should my father agree.
I’d rather starve, eat once a week, and look strong in the only way I could, than be forced to snack nightly like my brethren did. This rebellion, as Malcom called it, was all I had to own my place here.
I hadn’t seen him move, but next thing I knew, my father’s thumb and forefinger pinched my chin. “You don’t look enough like your mother to please me, girl. Keep that in mind when you let your thoughts run wild.”
Because I looked just like him. Same high forehead, same lush mouth.
The only thing I had of her was the blue of my eyes… when they didn’t go red.
“I apologize.” For being born the way I was.
Next I knew, my hands were taken, arms spread so my father might peruse my clothing. “I like this color. Next thing you know, black will no longer be the staple at court.”
Black had not been in vogue for years, but my father had not sat his throne or paid attention to such trivialities for longer than that.
My thoughts made him smirk.
Pressing a fatherly kiss to my cheek, I heard my sentence for whatever list of failings he’d compiled. “Malcom, you’ve done well. Tonight she’s yours.”
“Sir,” Malcom said with perfect reverence.
“Well, go ahead. She’s failed with everyone else. Enjoy your reward and give me a grandchild.”
To protest in any other way than the hysterical quickening of my heart and shallow breaths was unthinkable. I hated Malcom more than I hated life itself, yet still I turned, bending over the nearest table to present.
With my father as witness, my short skirt was lifted, lace thong pulled down my buttocks to stretch across my spread thighs. And then the blunt end of an extremely hard cock met the dry lips of my sex.
Quickly working himself in, Malcom took my hips and began a slow, steady pace. All the while I stared at the wall, unblinking, even when my father’s red robes slipped from my door.
The snap of the latch, two more thrusts, and Malcom ceased the rock of his hips. “Do you wish for me to stop?”
Nodding my head, I was already sobbing before he drew completely out. Slipping from the table to the floor, too overwrought to be ashamed of such a display, I curled in on myself and cried harder than I had in years.
I wept at the feet of a man I’d never forgive, and let him pet my hair because I lacked the strength to show him just how much I desired his death.
Broken by something so commonplace as penetration, I was every bit the child Malcom endlessly accused me of being.
Crouching so that his weight rested on the balls of his feet, he set his lips to my ear, whispering things I could not hear over the sound of my sobbing. Not one utterance made sense, just catches of meaningless sound.
But somewhere, somewhere between my gasps and choking, a single string of coherent, unlikely words broke their way through the gibberish muddling my thoughts. “This does not change how much I love you, my darling Jade.”
Chapter Nine
Malcom
And yes, I loved her. I loved her with my entire being. For a century I’d watched her every breath and counted the beats of her heart. I’d broken her, I’d hurt her, and I’d done every evil thing possible to keep her alive.
Because my Jade was so young and so foolish. So goddamn blind.
If she only knew what I’d sacrificed, what I still gave, to keep her safe. What do I care if she hates me? Jade doesn’t need to love me back. I love her enough for both of us.
“You will eat now.”
“Get out, Malcom!” Crouched down at my feet, she tore at her hair as if to erase my touch, ruining the sleek ponytail she’d worn to mock those she secretly wished would accept her. And, again, I loved her enough to make up for every last immortal’s loathing of their princess.
“Your father, your king, decreed that you are mine tonight. A specific period of time, Jade. The sun won’t rise for many hours yet. You will eat. You will bathe. You will converse with me.”
It was as if I had said something utterly inconceivable. Blue eyes ringed in red, bloodshot from crying, and unbearably beautiful, turned up. She looked at me. Right at me. And could not see what stood before her.