She is afraid though. It’s the human in her. She may be part dark fae, but she’ll never forget her first glance into our world. And this is it. We all gather round every night to watch this fucker eat.
It’s an embarrassment to the kingdom my father once ruled.
There was power here. There was peace among fae and our kind. Now, only bits of their magic reside in this hellhole. Yes, long before King Boris sunk a blade into my father’s heart, centuries before the Promises were ever a stain on our kind, there was beauty, and there was power in this kingdom.
And now... a gargling snort resounds through the room as he nearly chokes—unfortunately, he pulls through and continues his feeding.
There’s a line of nude women lingering in the shadows. I can’t see them, but they’re there. They always are. And even if this feeding is a disgusting sight, those women are simply happy it isn’t them in his lap right now.
His head lifts, and without his meaty hands on the used-up Promise, the woman’s slender body tumbles down his lap and rolls to the floor in front of him. A puddle of slick blood pools out around her. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his chunky hand.
How someone as composed as Christian is even remotely related to this steaming dumpster fire of a man is asinine to me.
“Well, come up here, girl. Let’s get a look at what the Thorn King has promised me.” Beady eyes eat up the woman who sits in front of him. The veering line of her spine is exposed, and only a knot at the small of her back holds the dress against her curves.
A sudden, intense urge to keep his disgusting hands off of something so beautiful strikes me then. I look away when she slowly stands on assured feet. She doesn’t stumble now. She doesn’t pause. She’s entirely elegant even as she stands with dirty bare feet before the King of the Blood Kingdom.
How the hell is she so damn confident while looking at the swollen, bloody face of a man like King Boris? Not to mention the corpse on the floor that will be quickly thrown out into the Dark Lands and forgotten the moment the king exits this room.
Small hands grip the hem of her dress, and she delicately lifts the edges of the black material at the sides of her thighs as she does a strange and subtle bow. I almost wince at it. She should be on the floor if she intends to show respect. Her head should brush the stone of the ground he walks on.
Anything less is an insult.
“My king,” she says on a breathy voice.
She raises her head high to look him in the eye.
But the damage is done.
The curl of his blubbering lips is enough to see how offended he is by her mere existence.
“Lower,” he booms.
There’s a slight tilt of her head like a sweet puppy who doesn’t understand.
“I’m—I’m sorry, what?”
“I saidLOWER.” Stubby fingers bite into the intricate vines of his throne, and he’s barely containing himself now.
My eyes close slowly, and my thoughts travel the room like a mouse looking for the exit in an endless maze. There are too many voices, too many thoughts all murmuring at once.
But I find her among them. I find the lure of her pretty thoughts, and I slip right in.
Bow down to the floor. Now. Quickly.
A shudder shakes through her petite shoulders, and I know she heard me. I feel it in her. Her mind feels... dark. Full of anxiety and fear and strangely, intimacy...
I cannot hear her mind. I can feel it. Sense it. And of course, speak to it.
She doesn’t question it though. She drops to her knees instantly and hangs her head.
Lower. Bring your head so low, you can nearly taste the ground.
Her shoulders fling forward, and she plants her hands flat on the floor like a peasant worshiping the old gods.
Her ass curves high in the air, and I know I’m not the only one looking. I’m just the only one with the good manners to glance away.
Christian’s cold gray eyes slide my way, and there’s amusement there in the face of my kindness to the Promised girl.