Page 19 of Obsessively Yours (Fae Kings of Eden #2)

19

Roman’s hand rested on Violet’s back as they walked down the cobblestone sidewalk of Gruene, a small village outside of Saltu. Both wore light cloaks with the hoods pulled up. The weather in the Tropical Kingdom stayed the same year-round; warm during the day and a little cooler at night beneath the thick jungle canopy.

Saltu had festivals sometimes for this reason or that, but they didn’t compare to Gruene. Fae traveled from all around to attend the tiny village’s summer solstice festival. Occasionally, humans would too.

Violet didn’t venture outside of Saltu much, but Gruene held a famous craft fair every summer solstice. Merchant carts lined the main street that ran through downtown, a lively band played music as people danced, and the street lanterns burned bright enough to light the night.

Violet loved it. She’d only been one other time with Slayton, and when Violet announced she was going again this year, Roman had insisted on accompanying her.

Violet bounced with each step as they passed the dancers twirling around in front of the stage. “Dance with me,” she begged the prince who looked like he would vomit at the prospect. “Please?”

He surveyed the dancers and turned back to her. “I only know ballroom dancing.”

The villagers and visitors from all over the world swung each other around, twirled under another’s arm, held each other close, and every other imaginable dance move one could think of.

“No one knows the steps,” she insisted. “Slayton and I danced with multiple people, and each time it was something different. We just did what felt right. Please . It’ll be fun.”

“You danced with other men?” he asked in a low voice, glaring at every man within eyesight.

Got him. “I did, and it was so much fun. It’s okay if you don’t want to dance, I’m sure I can find another partner.”

His head turned so fast, she wondered if it hurt his neck. “You’re playing a dangerous game, princess.”

Violet grinned mischievously and pretended to survey the crowd. “I just need to find a man without a woman. Let’s see…”

The world turned upside down, and she squealed as Roman carried her over his shoulder toward the other dancers. “That man doesn’t have a partner,” she taunted, referring to a gentleman standing to the side. “If you could be a dear and put me down so I can ask him to da—ow!”

Roman slapped her on the ass, hard. “Be a good girl and stop trying to get other men killed.”

He set her in the middle of the dancing area and stood awkwardly. Violet grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. Roman held out his hand, and when she grabbed it, he winked and yanked, then curled his arm around her so that she spun into him. “Do you enjoy training me like a monkey?”

Violet spun out and threw her head back, laughing. “I always wanted a pet,” she joked and stepped toward him to rest her hand on his shoulder.

“You have War.” He moved them around the dancers, spinning and laughing.

“I’m going to tell him you called him a pet.” She tsked. “I’ll bet he bites you for it.”

The world blurred around her with each spin. Upon colliding with Roman’s chest again, he leaned down close to her ear and whispered, “The only person I want biting me, is you.”

Fire burned under her skin, and the silky sound of his chuckle did more than the pleasure house ever could. She looked at him coyly. “One day, prince.”

The future king of the Tropical Kingdom looked happier than Violet had ever seen him as they danced around and laughed without a care in the world. She made a mental note to ensure they came back every year for the rest of their lives.

“I’m thirsty,” she panted and tapped her mouth.

Roman re-situated both of their hoods that’d fallen and ushered her through the crowd toward a refreshment stand. Something in the distance caught his attention, and he leaned down. “You wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“What do you want?” she asked. “In case I’m up to order before you get back.”

“A dark ale.” He kissed the top of her head and disappeared through the crowd with her staring dumbly after him.

Shaking herself, Violet surveyed the different carts around her to keep busy in line. Her eyes brightened when she spied a jewelry cart next to the refreshments. Even from here she could tell the pieces were beautiful.

Violet eyed the jewelry cart. The lineless jewelry cart. Popping over to take a look wouldn’t take too long, and she could be back in this line before Roman returned.

Coming to a decision, she slipped out of line and approached the jewelry merchant. “Hi,” she greeted the woman behind the cart with a smile. The woman looked up, but her own smile fell and her eyes widened. Strange . “Do you have any bracelets with shells?”

The woman’s mouth pulled into a sneer and her voice rose. “You’re her.”

Violet stared back, bewildered at the hostility. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

A man standing behind the cart with two other men glanced in their direction. “Everything alright, Maye?”

Those around them started chattering and the three men focused on Violet. Then it hit her. Oh, shit. “No,” she tried to explain to the woman, shaking her head. “I’m not Vivian, I’m her twin sister.”

Maye turned to the men behind her. “It’s the prince’s mate.”

The men studied her until one nodded. “It’s her.” He advanced toward Violet. She backed away and checked over her shoulder for Roman. That’s when she noticed a tattoo of a seraphim on the approaching man’s forearm.

Religious fanatics believed the gods were a type of angel called seraphim, who possessed three sets of wings covering their face, back, and legs. She’d heard a few royalists in the streets of Saltu, yelling for all to hear about her sister’s transgressions. They believed Vivian to be equivalent to the devil for shitting on the sacred mate bond.

This wouldn’t end well.

Violet turned to run, but someone grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back. She screamed from pain and fear. Her feet came out from under her, and her body slammed into the ground, stealing her breath. “I’ll find the general,” the woman told the men.

Her father’s words came to the forefront of her memory. Never give them your back . She sat up and rotated to face the man.

He came at her again, and she pretended to cower. When he got close enough, she grabbed his thigh and hit his kneecap with the heel of her palm as hard as she could.

Pain radiated up her arm, and the man screamed and stumbled back. “Demon!”

“Stop!” a woman from the crowd cried. Violet saw her try to run forward. “She’s telling the truth!”

Another man grabbed the woman around the waist and hauled her back. “Quiet, Bea.” The woman fought against him, insisting what Violet said was true, but the men didn’t listen.

One of the men grabbed Violet’s hair during the distraction, and she clawed at his arm. He started to drag her, and she cried out as her body scraped against the gravelly stone.

The hold on her hair released, and her head slammed against the ground. People around them screamed and backed away, and a loud thump, followed by a grunt, sounded from the man behind her. She pushed herself up in time to see Roman running to her side. “Are you okay, baby?” He tugged her into his arms, running his hands over her hair.

One of the other men, fool that he was, attacked Roman from the back. The crazed look on the prince’s face should have sent the fiercest of men skittering to hide, royal fae or not.

He spun, pushing Violet behind him, and grabbed the man by the head, then twisted it forcefully enough to rip it half off. Violet heard more screams from the crowd, children crying, and someone puking.

The last man tried to run, and Roman ripped his own hood down. “ ENOUGH,” he boomed, silencing the crowd. “ Seize him by order of the crown.”

People close enough to see his face gasped, and murmurs flew through the crowd. Two men caught the fleeing attacker and dragged him back to Roman.

Roman yanked him from the men’s hold and threw him to the ground. Onlookers tried to run, but the prince would have none of it.

“I am Roman Covington, your prince and future king,” he announced to the crowd. “Stop your retreat or you will meet your end.” Everyone froze. Some made it impressively far, but not far enough to escape his wrath. “This is what happens to anyone who dares touch what is mine.”

Roman lifted his foot high above the third man’s head.

No. Violet screamed Roman’s name and ran to his side.

He reached for her and grabbed both sides of her face. “I’m sorry, princess.” His voice trembled with rage. “I’ll make every single one of them pay.” Blood spatter coated his face and body, ruining his pristine white shirt. He looked like an avenging angel.

“There are children here,” she tried to reason with him. “You have to stop.”

His jaw ticked. Two men dragged Maye forward, and Roman stood to face the crowd. “I want all children under the age of nineteen removed. One parent or guardian may take them home.”

Parents yanked small children into their arms and ushered the older children away. Roman watched the crowd, and when they’d gone, he turned to the man on the ground and crouched. “The only reason I am not grinding your skull into the gravel is because of the kind and generous woman you attacked.” He stood and snapped his fingers at someone close by. “Bring me a sword or a butcher’s knife.”

The man on the ground started screaming and tried to crawl away, but Roman slammed his boot down on his chest. “You will not die today, but you will pay.”

A man hurried to Roman and handed him a large meat cleaver.

“Roman,” Violet whispered, at least she thought she had. Did she say it aloud at all?

Roman moved next to her and kissed her forehead. “Turn around and cover your ears until I tell you to stop.”

Without protest, she whirled around and slammed her hands over her ears, but nothing in all of Eden could muffle the man’s screams as Roman doled out his form of justice.

Muffled protests filtered through Violet’s fingers, and she spread them to hear better. “You touched her?” Roman demanded of someone.

“N-no, Your Grace,” Maye, the jewelry vendor swore. “I only told them she was your mate who’d forsaken you and the gods.”

A beat of silence. “She is not the one who broke the bond; She is Vivian’s twin sister ,” he roared.

“I-I didn’t know, Your Grace, I swear it!”

“She’s lying,” the woman, Bea , who’d tried to stop them said, stepping forward. The man who’d held her back tried to clamp a hand over her mouth.

Roman crossed to the woman and ripped the man’s hand away from her. “Speak,” he ordered Bea in a softer, but terrifying, tone.

“Violet told them, Your Grace,” Bea stated. “I grew up in Saltu. Violet was a few school years behind me.” She glared at the man still whimpering on the ground behind Violet. Violet envied her for not shying away from what was certainly a grisly scene. “I tried to tell them she was telling the truth, but they didn’t listen.”

Violet dug through her memories but still couldn’t place the woman.

Roman pivoted to the sobbing jewelry merchant. His steps were slow and measured as he walked toward her. Violet followed him with her eyes, mesmerized by the power rolling off him. “She tried to tell you, yet you spewed lies anyway.”

Maye apologized repeatedly through her sobs. Violet twisted around to face Roman and Maye. Whatever he was about to do, she knew she couldn’t stop him, and as sick and twisted as it was, she didn’t want to.

Bending down, Roman discarded the bloodied cleaver in his hand. Violet glanced at the man on the ground and tried not to scream at the sight of his hands lying a few feet away.

Roman grabbed a dagger from his boot. “Apologies don’t take back what you’ve done.” He pointed his dagger at Violet. “Do you see what they did to that beautiful woman?” He wrenched Maye’s mouth open, grabbed her tongue, and cut it off.

The woman cried out in agony and fainted, her slack body sagging. The two men dropped her and moved away with equal looks of horror. Screams rose from the crowd and Roman tossed her tongue next to the other man’s severed hands.

He turned in a circle, looking at the entirety of the people surrounding him. “Take this as a warning. Whoever touches what is mine will suffer dearly for it. You stood by and watched as an innocent woman suffered.” The words tore from his throat with the fury of a thousand men. “Imagine if she was your sister or daughter or wife. If you see who you think is Vivian Maekin, you handle her with care because if anyone lays a finger on Violet again, I will kill not only them, but any bystander who let it happen.”

Whoever touches what is mine will suffer dearly for it. Violet shivered.

Roman returned to Violet and lifted her into his arms.

“I can walk,” she protested, but stopped when his dangerous eyes met hers.

“Let me do this. Please.” Violet nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her hair and breathed deep. “Fuck.” He found the woman who’d spoken in Violet’s defense. “You, come with us.”

Bea scurried after them without a word. Luckily, the town’s inn was close by. The people inside must have seen or heard everything because no one said a word. A man hurried out from behind the check-in desk. “I’ll have extra towels sent up. Penny, call the doctor,” he urged a woman who looked on with horror.

Roman nodded. “Thank you.”

Bea and Roman filed into Violet’s room and shut the door. “Have a seat,” Roman told the other woman and nodded toward the bed. “We’re filthy, and you’re not. I don’t want to sully the sheets.”

Bea nodded and sat delicately on the edge of the bed, staring at the prince with a mixture of fear and awe.

What he’d done would mark him as a gruesome king, one to be feared, not loved. Violet shut her eyes against the guilt of what he’d sacrificed to avenge her. She could only hope he hadn’t inadvertently recruited more people to join the rebels against him.

* * *

“What’s your name?” Roman asked the woman.

“Bea.” She gazed at Violet. “I tried to stop them, but they held me back. I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

Roman tried to rub the tension from his forehead, but all he could see was Violet screaming on the ground, her beautiful hair in that man’s filthy hand. “You did what you could, and for that I owe you my gratitude.” He gestured to the armoire that sat opposite the modest bed.

The room didn’t have much. A bed against the wall beneath the window; two nightstands; an armoire; a large, overstuffed chair; and a dressing table. “Please grab the small wooden box at the top of the armoire.”

“I can grab it,” Violet tried, but he shushed her with a scathing look. His sanity dangled by a thread and holding her was all that kept him hanging on.

Bea retrieved the box and tried to hand it to him, but he refused to take it. “What is your last name?”

“Trenton.”

“Bea Trenton, if you ever need anything, contact me, and you will have it.” He pointed to the box. “For now, take this as my gratitude.”

Bea peeked into the box and gasped. “I cannot accept this for doing what is right.”

Roman arched a regal brow. “You will.”

He could tell she wanted to argue but thought better of it. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Forgive me for my rudeness, Bea, but I need to be alone with Violet.” It was a wonder he’d remembered his manners at a moment like this.

“I understand. Thank you, again.” She stepped forward to say goodbye to Violet and hurried from the inn like her shoes were on fire.

Violet’s body quaked, and Roman pulled her closer. “I shouldn’t have left you.” Every time he did, she suffered for it. Never again.

The weight of her head settled against his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. We were at a festival. Everyone was having fun.” She reared back and swiped at the side of her face. Blood from his shirt had smeared across her cheek. He’d forgotten it coated him. “Gods,” she whispered.

He stood and carried her into the bathroom. Setting her on the side of the clawfoot tub, he filled it with warm water and scented oils. “Do you need me to help you?”

“No. I’ll be okay,” she promised with a weak smile.

“I’ll be right outside if you change your mind.”

Against his better judgement, he stepped out and closed the door, resting his forehead against the cool wood. How could he let this happen? He swore he’d never let anything happen to her, but it had.

Killing two of the men and mutilating two others in front of the villagers was irresponsible, but he would do it again a thousand times over.