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CHAPTER NINE

TALIA

T he weight of the crown settled against my temples.

Not as heavy as I’d imagined all these years—just gold and jewels, after all—but the responsibility it represented pressed down on my shoulders like a mountain.

Three days of coronation celebrations, and I still couldn’t quite believe it was mine. Ours.

I stood on the balcony overlooking the grand ballroom and watched the sea of bodies below. Red skin in every shade, horns gleaming with oils and jewels, tails adorned with precious metals swaying to the music. The nobility and elite of ifrit society, all here to pay homage to their new rulers.

King Kaz and Queen Talia Fitsum.

A title I’d dreamed of since I was old enough to understand what power meant. What I hadn’t dreamed of was the ifrit catching my eye down below, or the butterflies in my stomach when he slipped away from his conversation. His eyes hardly left mine as he climbed the stairs to join me on the balcony.

Kaz’s fingers brushed against mine, the contact sending a familiar spark up my arm. “How much longer must we endure this circus?” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

I suppressed a smile. “Patience, my king. A proper ruler knows when to make a graceful exit.”

“And when might that be?”

I glanced sideways at him, taking in the sharp line of his jaw, the glint of gold in his eyes.

The formal attire suited him—black and crimson, tailored to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders and the lean strength of his body.

The crown resting on his brow looked as though it had been made for him.

Mine . My mate. My king.

And to think I’d once seen our arranged mating as just another move in the endless game of court politics.

The memory of that first night, of viewing Kaz as nothing more than an opponent to outmaneuver, brought a wry twist to my lips.

How wrong I’d been. He wasn’t a piece on the board at all, but rather the partner I’d never known I needed.

“Soon,” I promised, letting my tail brush against his. “The slimiest of the bastards are drunk enough that they won’t notice a short absence.”

Below us, a handful of Emil’s former supporters mingled with those who had remained ignorant to his short-lived coup.

He’d been careful with his murder and blame, approaching only those he thought would support his claim to the throne.

Now they drank and laughed with those who truly had been unaware of the coming bloodshed, as if their hands were just as clean.

In the aftermath, every clan had scrambled to prove their loyalty to the crown.

My network of spies had been busy these past weeks, carefully unraveling who knew what and when.

I knew the convenient alibis wouldn’t hold forever.

Someone would slip. Until then, I kept them close where I could see exactly which proclamations of devotion were genuine and which were born from fear of sharing Emil’s fate.

Griffin stood at attention near the doors, his shoulder now healed from the fight in the throne room. He caught my eye and nodded slightly at my raised brow. The signal that all was secure, that we could slip away without concern.

“Now,” I said, turning to Kaz. “We can sneak away now.”

Relief washed across his face. “Thank fuck. Let’s get out of here.”

I caught Kaz’s hand and pulled him into the shadows. Red smoke curled around us as I teleported us directly to the royal family’s reception chambers.

These rooms weren’t ours, not really. They belonged to the crown, to ceremony, to the ghosts of rulers past. Tomorrow we’d return to our true home in Silvermist Falls, but our duties tonight demanded we maintain the illusion of palace life a few hours longer.

Still, the room felt blissfully cool and quiet after the heat and noise of the ballroom. I exhaled slowly, feeling tension drain from my shoulders.

“Freedom,” Kaz murmured, his hands finding my waist.

“For now,” I hummed, toying with a button on his jacket. “We still need to complete the midnight toast. Three nights of celebration, three toasts to seal our reign. Rava threatened to hunt us down if we try to skip it.”

“Rava can go fuck herself.”

I laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Such sentiment from a king.”

“Would you prefer I be more formal, Your Majesty?” His low growl sent heat pooling low in my belly. “A decree, perhaps? Interruptions will result in heads meeting spikes?”

“You know,” I said slowly, pretending to consider the idea. “I think I might be starting to like you, princeling.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t hate me after all?” he teased. The tip of his tail trailed up my calf to the back of my knee. “High praise indeed, princess.”

“Queen,” I corrected, leaning up to nip at his lower lip. “Your queen.”

“My queen,” he agreed simply. Then his voice dropped to a sinful drawl. “Have I told you how exquisite you look in that dress?”

The gown had been specially made for the coronation. Deep teal silk that clung to my curves before flaring at the knees. The neckline dipped low, exposing more skin than was strictly proper for a queen, but I’d insisted. I knew the effect it would have on my mate.

“You mentioned it,” I said, my breath catching as his fingers traced the edge of the bodice. “I believe your exact words were ‘I can’t wait to tear that off you.’“

His low laugh did wicked things to my insides. “Did I say that? How unrefined.”

“Positively barbaric,” I agreed, arching into him as his lips traced my jaw. “Whatever would the court think of their king?”

“I don’t give a fuck what they think.” His teeth scraped along my collarbone, making me shiver. “I only care what my queen thinks. Perhaps she requires proper homage?”

I threaded my hands in his hair, already losing myself in the heat of his mouth on my skin. Two months with him, and he’d already learned exactly what drove me wild. Each touch, each kiss, another tie binding up together, and I couldn’t get enough. “I would never refuse a loyal subject’s devotion.”

His lips claimed mine in a kiss that stole my breath. There was hunger and possession and fire, so much fire. Everything about this male consumed me. He drew me closer, the heat of his body seeping through our clothing to warm me to my core.

Red smoke curled around us when we finally broke apart, and I realized Kaz had teleported us.

Not to the old throne room with its dark memories and single seat of power.

No, we stood in the newly renovated chamber, moonlight streaming through tall windows to illuminate twin thrones on their raised dais.

A room we technically shouldn’t be in until we took our seats tomorrow.

Kaz planted his hands on my shoulders and gave me a gentle shove. I staggered back, falling into the throne behind me. My heart pounded as I gazed up at him. He stalked forward, his eyes never leaving mine as he sank to his knees before me.

Strong hands wrapped around my calves as his lips curved into a wolfish grin. “Let me worship every inch of you, Your Majesty.”

The words sent a surge of arousal through me. Heat built low in my belly as his fingers traced circles on my legs. I parted my thighs slightly, granting him access. “As my king desires.”

He pushed the skirt of my dress up slowly, inching it higher along my thighs until he revealed the bare flesh beneath.

I watched his gaze trail hungrily over me, his pupils blown wide with desire.

I shivered as his fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties, drawing them down my legs with deliberate slowness.

“Keep your hands on the throne,” he ordered, his breath hot against my skin.

He bent his head to press a slow kiss against the inside of my knee.

Then another. Another. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, savoring the sensation of his mouth working its way higher along my thigh.

He stopped just short of my center, switching to the other leg and repeating the same torturous kisses.

By the time his tongue stroked across my folds, I was trembling with need. He swirled slowly around my clit, then slid lower to tease my entrance. Every flick of his tongue drove me higher, pushing me closer to the edge.

I clutched the arms of the throne, resisting the urge to grip his hair and hold him there until I shattered completely. He continued to torment me with lazy strokes, coaxing little moans from my lips that grew louder with each passing moment.

He chuckled against my flesh, sending vibrations rippling through my core. “You taste amazing, my queen.”

My only reply was a desperate moan as he plunged two fingers inside me. My hands flew to his horns as I cried out, unable to hold back any longer.

And then there was nothing. No heat, no lips or tongue or hands. I forced my eyes open, searching for him. “Kaz...”

He’d drawn back, a wicked smirk on his lips. “I said to keep your hands on the throne.”

I whimpered, arching toward him, seeking more contact. “Please.”

“Hands on the throne,” he repeated, his tone laced with steel. “Or I stop.”

My nails dug into the arms of the throne. “Yes, my king.”

A low purr of satisfaction rumbled in his chest, the vibration running through me as his mouth found my center once more.

This time he didn’t hesitate. He licked and sucked and fucked me with his fingers, driving me relentlessly toward orgasm.

My muscles tensed and my toes curled, the pressure building until I thought I would explode.

“Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Kaz... Please...”

And he didn’t. My world dissolved into blinding pleasure as his mouth worked magic between my legs. I bucked and writhed in the chair, but he held me in place with firm hands on my thighs.

And mine didn’t leave the throne.