Page 38 of Obsessively Yours (Fae Kings of Eden #2)

38

Violet stood in a small room near the throne room, trying, and failing, to calm down. Today marked her, Roman, and Vivian’s twenty-fifth birthdays, but instead of celebrating Roman becoming king, he’d asked her to marry him instead.

He’d promised they would have a grand celebration and redo the ceremony for the public so she could plan the wedding of her dreams. Violet didn’t need a grandiose wedding, though she’d always wanted one. You couldn’t torture that confession out of her, though, because she wouldn’t risk Roman feeling bad for taking that from her. He didn’t take anything; he gave her everything.

“Are you ready, monkey?” her father asked her.

Smoothing a non-existent flyaway, she turned and looked in one of the large, golden mirrors on the wall of the small sitting room. Turning from one side to the other, she checked that her gauzy white dress looked exactly as it had five minutes ago. The skirt billowed when she walked and dragged behind her. The loose, off the shoulder sleeves attached to the tight bodice, making it appear like she had curves when she absolutely did not. Her satin slippers whispered across the floor as she walked, and her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders.

And on top of her head sat the flower crown Roman gave her last night, perfectly imperfect. And definitely not made by a child.

Satisfied, she nodded once and hooked her arm through her father’s. “I’m ready.”

Her father led her to the doors of the throne room, where her mother waited. The latter dabbed at her eyes for the thousandth time that day and kissed Violet’s cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, Mom. You do too.”

Her mother tittered out a stuffy laugh and handed her handkerchief to her husband. “I’m going to let them know you’re ready.”

She disappeared through the door, and Violet’s dad held out her mother’s used handkerchief, looking rightly disgruntled. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Violet tried to not laugh and looked around. “Hide it under that bench and we’ll get it later to throw away.”

The older man tossed it under the bench, grumbling under his breath, and took Violet’s arm again. Two guards opened the doors to the throne room from the inside and stepped aside.

No music played, no flowers or fabric hung from the ceiling, and no large crowd turned to stare at her when she stepped through the doors.

Only the council, Roman and Violet’s families, and their closest friends stood in front of the dais, watching her walk toward them. It wasn’t what she’d planned for her wedding as a girl. She’d been excited about the prospect of planning a beautiful ceremony with her mother and Sarah, but once the bond had snapped in place, she could tell waiting would eat Roman alive.

Violet’s eyes met Roman’s, and a blast of intense love burned through her. It took her breath away. He looked devastatingly handsome in his royal coat, the purple fabric contrasting beautifully with his skin tone.

Wait.

Violet halted and stared at Roman’s coat, then at War, who looked pissed in a matching one. She’d made the beast a coat to match Roman’s green one, but they both wore purple.

“What’s wrong?” her father whispered, following her stare.

Realizing she’d stopped and feeling Roman’s panic, she kissed her father on the cheek, dropped his arm, and walked as fast as she could toward her mate. Roman met her halfway, and she jumped into his arms, burying her face in his neck.

“I can’t tell if you’re upset or not,” Roman murmured against her ear. “It feels like you’re happy, but I’m going to be honest, seeing the woman you’re supposed to marry stop in the middle of the aisle is worrisome.”

He tried to joke but she could feel his nerves. “You’re wearing my favorite color,” she mumbled against his neck. “You’re supposed to be wearing human grass green.”

His chuckle and affection touched her both inside and out. “You said it was ugly,” he reminded her, “and suggested I change our royal color to violet purple.”

Popping her head back, she looked at him, trying to discern what he’d said. “You didn’t.”

“He did,” his father, the former king, muttered from close by. “Had new banners made and everything. Cost a fortune.”

“Shut up,” Roman’s mother hissed, hitting his arm playfully.

Or maybe not so playfully if his wince and smirk in her direction were anything to go by.

“That’s absurd, Roman,” Violet said, turning her attention back to her mate. “The Tropical Kingdom’s royal color has been green since the beginning of time.”

Roman shrugged. “The circumstances of our mating will be what the history books focus on, not the change in banner colors.”

Violet kissed him and signaled for him to set her down. Walking to War, she kissed him on the head. “You look very handsome.” He chuffed, looking fit to be tied, and begrudgingly licked her hand. It appears someone didn’t want to wear his new coat.

Roman had done so much for her that she refused to deny him this. Standing in front of their loved ones, with no strangers other than the council, she appreciated the change.

It came time for the blood exchange, and Violet stared at the small dagger in her hand. “I don’t think I can cut you.”

To pass the royal fae powers from the royal heir to their mate, they sealed their marriage by wiping holy oil on a small part of each other’s skin, nicking the oiled skin until it bled, and licking their partner’s blood. Gross .

“I’ll make the incisions,” Roman replied and took the dagger. “You place the oil and do the licking.” The way he said the last part made her squirm, and his satisfaction slid down the bond.

Glaring up at his smug smile, she closed her eyes and thought of everything they’d done the night before, working herself up. Popping her eyes open, she grinned deviously at her mate as he adjusted himself and promised retribution under his breath.

Roman leaned down, hovering his lips next to Violet’s ear. “Where do you want to lick me, mate?”

“Our parents are here,” she whispered with a warning glare. Flicking her eyes to the dagger in his hand, she considered stabbing him with it.

He laughed loudly, much like he’d done their first day of class, and she couldn’t help but laugh, too. “Your wrist,” she decided and grabbed his non-dominant hand.

Amused disappointment trickled down the bond, and she couldn’t help but tease him. “I’ll lick you somewhere else later.”

Apparently, she’d not whispered quietly enough, because Slayton groaned, “Come on, guys.”

Violet’s face heated, and Roman laughed even louder. Jerk . Dabbing a bit of holy oil on Roman’s wrist, she watched him slice the delicate skin. The metallic taste of Roman’s blood hit Violet’s tongue, and she tried not to look repulsed. Why couldn’t they just press their cuts together and trade blood that way?

Roman stepped into Violet’s space, moved her hair to the side, and tilted her head sideways. The officiant dabbed a bit of oil on Roman’s finger, and he ran a sensual trail down Violet’s neck.

Everything happened in slow motion. Roman handing off the dagger and sinking his teeth into Violet’s neck. She screamed and latched onto his shoulders, and the onlookers gasped in surprise. Roman’s father was barking orders or scolding Roman, Violet couldn’t be sure, all while Roman licked at the wound on her neck.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, feeling his pride down the bond. Asking him questions did no good because his stare remained riveted on Violet’s neck.

“I hope it scars,” he said, finally looking at her.

She gaped at him. “You wanted to give me a scar?” Where did that dagger go?

He nodded and stared at the throbbing mark on her neck. “Everyone will know you’re taken.”

“Roman, everyone will know I’m the queen. Being taken is a given.”

“Not if they’re from another kingdom,” he argued as if biting someone to permanently mark them was a sane thing to do. Another lick to her wound, more satisfaction down the bond, and a heated look thrown her way, made her pussy pulse.

What is wrong with me? She moved back and gestured to her neck. “What if it gets infected?”

The gleam in Roman’s eye told Violet he’d already thought of that. Of course he had. “The holy oil heals the wounds quickly and keeps them from getting infected.”

Griff stepped forward for a better look. “It looks like a rabid dog bit you.”

“One did,” Slayton added unhelpfully.

Roman scowled at him. “Who invited you? This is friends, family, and council only.”

Violet huffed, grabbed his arm with the sleeve still rolled up, and sank her teeth into his flesh before she’d thought better of it. The taste of blood hit her tongue, and she jerked back. Holy hell, she was going insane.

Everyone stared at her in various stages of shock. Except Roman. The bastard stared at the bite mark on his arm like it held the secrets of the world.

A weird sensation coated Violet’s skin and she held out her arms to examine them. As soon as it had started, it stopped, and she looked around. “Was that supposed to happen?”

“What?” Roman asked at the same time Felix said, “Yes.”

“What?” Roman repeated, his voice rising.

“She now has royal magic,” Sarah explained. “When a royal marries his mate, their magic increases to that of a royal.”

Roman nodded in understanding. “I forgot.” He grinned at Violet. “Congratulations, Your Grace.”

* * *

Roman ignored the disapproving looks from his father and the council members. His father berated him for acting like an animal and biting Violet in front of everyone, and the council disapproved of his private coronation and wedding, insisting they’d involved the public.

They made good points. Some people would think they were lying about Violet being his bonded mate to appease the public, especially since word of Vivian’s appearance during the rebel attack at the border had made its way through the Tropical Kingdom.

Vivian. The name alone made him want to destroy everything in his path. They’d yet to discover what brought her back. Roman wanted to kill her and be done, but his wife might not forgive him.

His mother’s familiar still trailed her, and so far, she’d spoken to no one, but she watched Violet outside of the palace walls. Wherever Violet went, Vivian followed from a distance. In crowded places, Tilly couldn’t follow, but if Roman wasn’t at Violet’s side, War was.

“We need to discuss Violet’s coronation,” Joffrey, one of Roman’s councilmen said. “We’ve sent news to the post that a new queen will be crowned, but we didn’t say who.”

Roman swore he’d not let them ruin his wedding day with talks of politics, especially not at his wedding lunch, but if they were about to try to convince him to say Violet was Vivian, he would gladly spill blood. “Why didn’t you put Violet’s name?”

Joffrey cleared his throat. “Just a precaution for her safety,” he answered. “And if there seems to be an uproar about it not being Vivian Maekin, then perhaps we could—”

“Enough,” Roman bellowed. “I thought I made this clear, but it seems you need reminding.” He pushed back his chair and stood to look down his nose at the men and women of the council. “I have already made it clear who the queen was to be. My warriors and guards know it, and by default, rumors have trickled through the kingdom.” A council woman spoke, but Roman held up a hand. “I will not have my wife pretend to be someone she is not. Vivian has been selfish and undeserving of the crown since the day our bond snapped in place.”

He glanced at his in-laws. “I would apologize for insulting your daughter, but it would be a lie. Violet is compassionate, kind, and great with people. Our kingdom is lucky to have her as their queen. Anyone who opposes her will be tried and convicted of treason.”

He expected Violet to protest, to tell him to calm down and think rationally, but she did none of that. Instead, she looked up at him with hearts in her eyes, and her love and gratitude filtered down the bond. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

He stole a quick kiss and turned back to the table. “We will announce Violet Covington as my mate and wife, and every citizen will bow when my mother places the crown upon my mate’s head. Understood?”

He met everyone’s eye, demanding their agreement. When he met Slayton’s, the man tipped his head, and Roman knew it was more than compliance. It was approval.

And dammit if that didn’t mean something to him.

* * *

“Are you ready?” Roman asked, tugging on the blindfold.

After he’d scared the shit out of everyone in the dining room, he’d blindfolded her, picked her up, and said he was giving her a wedding gift. The air grew heavy, and their voices echoed around them.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

The blindfold fell away, and Violet stared slack-jawed at Marissa chained to the wall in the palace dungeon.

If you’d told Violet to guess what her gift would be, Marissa held prisoner would not have been in the top one million.

“You don’t like it?” Roman asked, wrapping his arms around Violet from behind.

“I—what is this?”

“You get to decide her fate,” the king replied, serving her a prisoner on a platter. “You can do whatever you’d like.”

Violet turned quizzically to her husband. “What do you think I’ll choose?” Because she truly didn’t know what his threshold was. Imprisonment for another week? Working in the stables shoveling shit?

Roman shrugged. “Whatever you’d like, wife.”

That got Marissa’s attention. The chains rattled as she sat forward and tried to speak around the gag in her mouth.

Violet approached the cell bars and studied the other woman. “You didn’t hear?” She pulled back her hair to expose the already healed bite on her neck. “Roman and I got married this morning.”

Marissa spewed a litany of curses. Turning hate-filled eyes on Violet, she snarled something else.

“Remove her gag,” Roman told a guard Violet hadn’t seen.

“Don’t,” Violet countered. “Whatever she has to say isn’t worth hearing.” A bolt of lust shot down the mate bond, and she looked at Roman. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Turns me on.”

Violet huffed out a laugh and rubbed at her breast bone. “Feeling when you’re horny might be a problem if you can’t control yourself.”

Marissa made a strangled sound, her face going from pissed to something else.

“Guess you haven’t heard that we’re also bonded mates.”

Marissa sat back, stunned, and Violet smirked. Violet had never been cruel a day in her life, but seeing Marissa miserable and imprisoned gave her a sick satisfaction. Unfortunately, she still had a conscience. Sighing, she twisted to glance at Roman over her shoulder. “I think sitting in the dungeon taught her a lesson. Let her go.”

Roman gave the guard a signal, and the man disappeared in the opposite direction. “I need to do something first,” the king replied. The guard returned with some kind of iron rod in his hand and slipped into the open cell next to Marissa’s.

The guard made all sorts of racket, and Violet couldn’t resist poking her head into the enclosed area. The guard held the end of the iron in the beginnings of a fire. “What is that?” she asked Roman over her shoulder.

“Step back into the hall,” her husband instructed. “I don’t want you to get burned.”

A sick feeling curdled in Violet’s stomach. “Roman, you cannot burn Marissa. I won’t allow it. She’s a bitch, but I can’t let you do this.”

All the blood drained from Marissa’s face. “I’m not burning Marissa,” Roman grumbled. “Just wait.”

The guard exited the cell holding the iron rod. The end had a flat scrolling piece of iron attached, and it glowed bright red. A branding iron.

Oh fuck. “Roman. Whatever you’re about to do, don’t.”

Roman kissed her on top of the head and looked at Marissa. “Just so there’s no confusion for you or any other women in the future.”

Roman nodded to the guard and bared his neck. Violet watched in slow motion as the guard took the iron and rolled it across the side of Roman’s neck. Roman made a sound like a wounded animal but stood still. The scent of burning skin filled Violet’s nostrils, and even though it felt like a lifetime, the whole thing ended in seconds.

She covered her mouth to keep from screaming as she stared at her name branded into the side of Roman’s neck. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He took a calming breath, straightened his head, and met her bewildered gaze. “She said your name wasn’t on me. Now it is.”

“ You could have gotten a tattoo like a normal person ,” Violet shrieked.

“Tattoos can fade,” he said simply, as if discussing the weather and not his melted skin.

To Marissa’s credit, she didn’t look traumatized. She looked annoyed. Violet motioned to the guard. “Can you take Marissa home?”

The guard nodded once. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Can we go home?” she asked Roman, eyeing his angry flesh. “I want to clean that before it gets infected.”

“I’ve heard eating pussy is a great way to boost the healing process,” he murmured and licked his bite mark.

She shivered and tried unsuccessfully to look vexed.