Page 27 of His Dark Delights
Lilly
I bolted upright in bed, eyes snapping open.
Fear spiked through me, and my heart ricocheted through the confines of my chest. Every ounce of my blood rushed through my veins and perspiration coated my brow.
I smoothed my hand over my chest, swallowing against the sensation of icy fingers scratching along the length of my spine.
The subtle, almost silent sound of a door opening rocked through me. In the pitch-darkness of the room, the faint glow from the fireplace highlighted a tall, dangerous frame lumbering across the room.
A scream lurched up in my throat and I leashed it back. I scrambled higher up the bed, clutching the blanket to my chest. Ice shards coursed through my blood as the plush carpet muffled the footsteps coming nearer.
In the dwindling orange glow from the cinders in the fireplace, I recognized a familiar silhouette. I knew the slope of those shoulders, the shape of those dark curls, and the feeling of those arms when they wrapped around me.
My eyes adjusted to the meager light, revealing the man approaching from the secret door to the king’s room. Although the sight of him didn’t ease the panic gripping me in a chokehold.
Fiery red light danced with the shadows, accentuating Soren’s handsome face. The fire’s fading glow and the silvery moonlight from the windows illuminated his haggard and worn features—and the crimson blood splattered across his billowing white shirt.
Concern reared up in my stomach, pushing past the wall of resentment I needed to guard my feelings. It tugged me out from under the safety of my blanket and off the bed. I followed that instinct across the floor, meeting Soren halfway across the room.
“Oh, gods, what happened?” My hands fluttered over his shirt, inspecting the drying blood in search of injuries. Memory of the day I’d found him half-dead in the woods surged through me, followed by a wave of panic.
“Lilly,” Soren rasped, catching my wrist from the air. He pulled my hand down, placing it over the thumping in his chest. “It’s not my blood.”
I snatched my hand away from him and twisted my fingers in the front of my nightdress. When I took a step back, afraid of where the blood came from, he followed. Out of breath and voice thin, I asked, “Whose blood is it?”
“Gerald’s,” Soren replied harshly, as if the name burned the back of his throat.
A small gasp flew past my lips.
The king stepped closer, towering over me. His natural scent curled around me, mingled with sweat and the odor of drying blood. This close under the barest light, I got a better glance at his state. He appeared utterly bedraggled, exhausted, and seething. Like a caged bull after winning a fight.
“What did you do to Gerald?”
After the way he treated me and the pain he’d inflicted, I didn’t feel bad for the knight. In many ways, I knew he deserved some repercussions for his actions. And another part of me was glad to know he’d suffered. It was a twisted feeling, but one I wouldn’t shy away from.
What sickened me was the relief of knowing that the blood on Soren’s shirt was human, not fae. I was still half-human. My father was a man—a good man. But I was almost overjoyed that the king had come to me clean of the ichor of my magical kin.
“Nothing less than he deserved,” Soren snarled through a tight jaw. His hands smoothed over my arms, keeping me from recoiling further. “There’s not a bastard alive that I’d let hurt you and live to see the light of another day.”
The implication in his words was clear. Outraged, I wrenched myself away from the king. His hands followed, trying to keep me in his grasp. I put up my hands as a protective barrier.
“You killed him for his use of force against me?”
“I had to,” he insisted. “I cannot let anyone get away with hurting you—”
My hand shot out, striking across his face. Stinging pain fluttered over my palm from the force of the abrupt slap. I flung myself out of arm’s reach on the off chance the king decided to retaliate against my impertinence.
“You hurt me!” The words cracked out of me, flowing like a ruptured dam.
“If you wanted to see me so badly, you should have found a way to come yourself. He only hurt me because he was a fool ordered by another fool. And when I finally arrived at the palace, instead of being greeted as a cherished guest, as you proclaim I am, I’m treated no better than a whore.
The way you used me and left me was shameful, and I hate you for it. ”
The idea of telling Soren about my true heritage stirred in my mind. A devilish voice whispered that he’d hate me just as much as I hated him if he knew the truth. He claimed to love me, and an obstinate voice said I needed a reason for him to abhor me, to match the sickness within my heart.
Hiding the truth from him kept me safe. Yet a silent, demented urge pushed me to speak it into existence. Would he treat me as he did other fae and prove that he really was the depraved butcher many believed him to be?
Would he accept the truth and desire me regardless of my blood?
Maybe that secret part of me wanted him to crave me despite the sheer force of his greater purpose.
I wanted him to be helplessly in love with me, despite his morals and reasoning.
I wanted Ren to love me despite the sin of my heritage.
Or perhaps he would simply hate me and act on that disgust. Maybe he’d kill me, but then I’d be safe from the feelings I harbored like a wounded bird in my chest.
“I suppose I should say I am sorry for how I treated you, yet I cannot bring myself to speak the words. I am a changed man here; cruel, vicious, and brutal. The sight of my claim staining your face instilled a disturbing sense of pride in me all day long. And the taste of your cum on my tongue carried me through the hours until I saw you again.”
“You disgust me,” I spat back.
“That’s fine with me. I am a cruel king and an extremely unreasonable bastard,” he snapped back, bowing over me.
I shrank into myself, trembling against the heat of his body. When his hand reached between us, I flinched, but that didn’t stop him from cupping my cheek.
His voice lowered, becoming soft and almost unrecognizable. “Everything I want to say to you seems hollow the moment I lay eyes on you, Lilly. You make me feel as if I am going insane with want for you.”
“Then go insane, Butcher. I care not.” Yet my heart was cracking.
“I love you, and I know you love me, too.”
I reacted in a frenzy, slapping him again. Only that time I didn’t stop there. My hands shot out repeatedly, curled into fists and beating into his chest.
Soren rocked back a step before bracing his feet on the floor. He hardened into stone, merely allowing me to pummel him with my futile punches and shouting at the top of my lungs.
When the flurry of blows slowed, the king smoothed his hands over my arms. His firm, powerful fingers encircled my wrists, dragging my hands to my sides. He could have stopped me from hitting him at any point, yet he’d allowed me to assault him, taking the beating.
Trembling and choking back tears, I seethed. “Next time you proclaim to love me, do it on your knees or not at all.”
The king’s face was set in harsh lines. The dancing shadow from the dwindling fire made him appear fiendish and wicked. His actions confirmed it when he dropped to his knees, holding my hips.
Soren stared viciously up at me, digging his fingers into my sides. My breath sawed out of me at the sight of his dark head arched back, gazing at me from his knees. “I came to you searching for rest and comfort. Remember, on your farm, when you told me I had no responsibilities when I’m with you?”
I swallowed over a dry throat but nodded in answer. My hands wavered near my sides, shaking with the desire to run my fingers through his hair and aching from repeatedly hitting chest.
He tipped forward, burying his face against my legs. The heat of his breath penetrated my nightgown and seeped into my bones. His words shuddered through him. “I want that again, Lilly. I want that peace I found with you.”
“No. No.” The feeble dispute died on my lips. My fingers ran through his hair, intent on dragging him away from the apex of my thighs. Instead, they curled into the soft black locks, holding him in place against me as the desire to hold him, touch him, overcame my better senses.
It would be blasphemous and destructive if he knew the truth. I couldn’t be the sanctuary for the Fairy Butcher .
But when he nuzzled his face into my nightdress, nudging his nose over my core, I didn’t give a damn.
His hands curled around my hips, cupping the globes of my ass in his massive palms. Every rational thought I had flew out of my ears, leaving my head as nothing more than a treacherous haze of wanton heat.
Ren’s lips parted as he spoke near my quivering center. “We can pretend we’re back in those wildflowers under the moon. You can be the queen and I your knight again. And I can pretend you care for me as you once did.”
“No, I cannot pretend—” my words cut off when he opened his mouth over my mound, licking my pussy through the paper-thin material of my dress. Rolling bliss swept up from my core to my racing heart, pulling a deep moan from my chest.
I glanced down at the wicked king on his knees for me. He peeked up at the same moment, and something sudden and fierce flashed in his eyes—lust, fury, and a possessive yearning.
Driven half mad with unholy wanting, Ren grappled my legs and tackled me to the floor. My back hit the thick carpet in front of the fireplace, and a grunt burst from me. The king hooked his fingers in the collar of my nightdress before ripping the flimsy fabric wide open and tossing it away.
As if the sight of my bare body chased out the last of his self-control, Ren shoved a hand between my thighs, cupping my center. He stroked one finger through my slit, exploring the extent of my arousal.