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Chapter three

D imitri licked the pad of his thumb and leaned forward, staring after the female promised to his king. The princess who Ambrose promised a third of his army for.

Which meant Dimitri would have her… if for no reason other than to deny his king the pleasure of her cunt. He scrutinized her feline movements as she stalked away. She reminded him of a hunting neva, the long-haired domestic cat native to Ledivion.

Dimitri smiled darkly. The Clorean Princess would never know his king’s touch… but she would know his.

Her paneled skirt parted with each step and his gaze followed the blue-green material as it revealed a delectable view of her toned legs.

Killing her would be such a waste. Dimitri exhaled slowly.

He could play with her before he extinguished the royal family.

Bind her wrists behind her back and have her on her knees.

She would look so beautiful stripped of her pretty silk.

He would spread her legs wide and shove her shoulders to the ground.

Astrid’s dress tightened over the perfect curve of her ass as she climbed the steps to the double doors. Dimitri wondered if she would moan or whimper when he fucked her; if her gold belt would hold while he trained her to take his cock.

She stalked out of sight, and he finished the last piece of his stuffed roll. He wasn’t particularly hungry. Hunger didn’t visit him as it did others. Souls were his sustenance—he could do without food entirely.

Dimitri ate for pleasure. The pleasure of warm bread and the succulent taste of swan. The pleasure of knowing every other mouth in the hall sat hungry before their empty plates.

The pleasure of reminding each of them, especially his so-called king, he was beyond their rules.

Servants swarmed his table like ants. They gathered the settings and tablecloth, replacing it in moments.

His king took his seat once more and threw him a disapproving glare.

A dark laugh slipped past Dimitri’s lips, and he outstretched his wing, catching the attention of the male who poured Astrid Noctis’s drink.

When the thin male’s eyes met his, he tapped two fingers beside his glass. The cupbearer hurriedly poured his drink and returned to his station.

Dimitri lifted the flute and took a slow inhalation before tasting the effervescent liquid. The taste prickled over his tongue. The sweet sparkling wine would pair better with a dessert than their meal.

He lowered the glass and wondered where his princess had scurried off to. The pretty thing was clearly used to having her way. Like drinking a dessert wine because she enjoyed the taste. A robust red would better complement the roasted deer he scented when he passed the kitchens.

Astrid was a spoiled E’lan Vital who developed a predilection for toying with souls who couldn’t fight back.

He would be the only one making kills during this excursion and each victor was owed a war prize. The little neva would be his. He’d swallow the remnants of her soul after she was sufficiently broken, choking on his cock.

He would make a gift of her cold, desiccated corpse. Tuck her into his king’s bed when he was done with her. Ambrose didn’t have the stomach for his dark gifts, and Dimitri relished every moment of his monarch’s pitiful squirming.

“Gather their officers,” Dimitri said flatly. A muscle ticked in Ambrose’s jaw, and Dimitri bared his teeth in a cavalier grin. “I’ll fetch my future queen. If we are not discussing where to assign our troops along their borders within the hour, I am heading home.”

There was a plan to adhere to and Dimitri impatiently accelerated Ledivion’s timeline.

“Sit down,” the King bit out in Luska.

“Nyet,” Dimitri answered.

Ambrose casually leaned toward him and hissed in their native tongue, “My grace affords you your position in court. Sit.”

Dimitri stood and bowed in a flourish before starting toward the hall down which Princess Noctis ventured.

Two Clorean male guards, armed with ornate spears, stepped before the doorway and crossed their weapons. Dimitri chuckled. When he’d cared to, he’d single-handedly turned the tides of war, and these two males sought to keep him from his curiosity.

Dimitri dusted his embroidered vest under his tailored coat and shot the leading edge of his wing forward without warning. The clawed tip pierced the footman’s shoulder, annihilating their formation.

He withdrew his wing, and the remaining guard leveled his spear against the dip beneath Dimitri’s Adam’s apple.

The rush of battle sang through him, giving him a heady feeling.

His blood heated and an errant thought danced through his mind: a vision of Astrid panting against the wall, wearing nothing but the blood he painted the corridor in while he fucked her.

Dimitri lifted his chin and leaned into the razored edge. “Do it and I promise you’ll be unhappy with the outcome.”

The guard wavered and Dimitri smiled, stepping past him into the hall. He spared a look to the bleeding male sprawled at his feet in a growing pool of crimson.

“Go see an E’lan Vital. Your court is littered with them,” Dimitri said, ignoring the rising voices and clamor behind him.

The halls were quiet as Dimitri searched for the female who’d whet his appetite.

His thoughts fixated on her. Teaching her obedience would be a pleasure but her blatant disdain for his king kindled his obsession.

She might even rival his own hatred toward his monarch, which made her worth keeping.

The hall forked and Dimitri paused, scenting the air.

He hadn’t been able to isolate her scent in the crowded dining hall.

The first thing he needed to do was fist her hair and breathe in her scent at the nape of her neck.

She’d never escape him once he could track her.

He followed the left hall through firelit archways and down a flight of stairs.

The princess turned the corner and paused, seemingly surprised to see him.

Dimitri instinctively flared his wings, and she drew a quiet breath as her gaze lifted to the taloned points.

She hid her reaction beneath a mask of indifference and Dimitri nearly grinned.

Her scornful gaze returned to his face, and she snapped, “Are you lost?”

Dimitri contemplated her disdain and permitted her little outburst.

She’ll be dead soon.