Page 12 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

~ YILAN ~

I barely slept that night. With Melek gone and the camp in high spirits, I worried I might find myself visited in the night. But Melek never returned, and in the early hours of the morning, still sitting with my back against the bars and the spear across my lap, I must have dropped off.

At the snap of the tent flap, I jerked awake, blinking, heart pounding, and disoriented.

The rush of adrenaline made me strong for a moment. But when I realized it was just Melek returning, looking very much worse for the wear, the fizz of energy drained from my body along with the slowing of my pulse until I wondered if I would be able to lift the spear at all. All my limbs, even my head, felt heavy.

Melek ignored me as he crossed the tent and went straight to the trunk where he kept his clothing. He began unbuttoning his shirt, cursing as his thick fingers fumbled the small buttons. It was natural to follow him with my eyes—the man was dangerous. But with every moment he continued to ignore me my anger simmered hotter.

I scanned him with a grimace. His hair was messy. The strands falling from his warrior’s length were tangled and twisted… as if hands had plunged into it, pulling it half from the leather tie and twisting it…

He finally got the shirt unbuttoned and snapped it back off his shoulders, stretching his muscular arms back to pull the sleeves. When he whipped the shirt off and leaned forward to put it in the trunk there were scratches on the back of his shoulder.

Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he began unbuttoning his leathers.

I blinked as he shoved them past his hips, baring muscular buttocks that a woman could sink her teeth into. But then he continued to bend, to push the leathers to the floor, and I caught sight of the heavy, swinging testicles of a bull .

A shriek of alarm sang through my core as he straightened, unashamed of his nakedness, folded the dirty clothes with short, efficient movements, then dropped them into the trunk and turned to walk to the bed.

I hadn’t meant to look. Wasn’t even curious—well, not much. But it was impossible to miss when he turned, both arms bent up as he worked to pull the leather tie from his tangled hair so that his upper-body arched, every muscle and… body part distinct in the light of the lanterns he’d never blown out.

At the sight of him in all his glory—golden skin, scars, muscles, and manhood… my breath stopped.

And then he did.

It took seconds for me to realize he’d stopped walking and was just standing there, watching me gape at him.

“Hungry, Fetch?” he purred.

Fear jangled in my veins, and I lashed out without thought.

“You should take more care sowing your seed with such abandon,” I sneered. “The last thing this world needs are more soulless.”

His smug smile went cold, and he took a threatening step towards me. “If you cannot speak sweetly, Fetch, do not speak at all. The King has an entire trunk of ball-gags that I am not afraid to use.”

I snapped my mouth closed, but my rage roared higher in my chest, burning behind my ribs.

Fucking arrogant fuck.

Then, the bastard just folded his arms and stood there, feet shoulder-width apart, displaying himself, one brow arched in a challenge.

But the movement of folding his arms made his length swing and my eyes were drawn down to look. I yanked my gaze back up to his immediately, but he was smirking again.

“Seems like there’s a compliment brewing in your eyes, Fetch.”

“If you believe that, you do not know me at all.”

He huffed and shook his head, but then I saw the prickle go out of him. His shoulders dropped along with his smirk as he turned for the bed again, muttering a curse and raking a hand through his hair again. The length fell down his back in a tangled mess.

“You know, just because you’ve fooled Jannus doesn’t mean you have fooled me also.”

“Your brother-in-arms is compassionate—a rare quality in your kind. I would never make the mistake of thinking you were the same.”

He growled and turned on me again, but instead of storming to me with rage as I expected, his brow furrowed, and he moved towards me with caution.

“You could eat. You know that. Hell, I would serve you myself if you would just bend your neck and give up that spear. But no—”

“You say that as if I am a petulant child. We both know if you were in my shoes, you wouldn’t release it either!”

“What shoes? You are caged! Even if you threw it now and killed me, you’d only be dead at the hands of the next Neph to walk in here!”

“But they won’t have to kill me since you’re going to starve me, right? You sadistic pig,” I spat, tensing when his eyes widened.

The Nephilim had an intense disdain for pigs. I’d heard the word was a terrible insult among them, but never imagined—

“Pig?!” he snarled.

“I’ve watched you crunch bones!”

His lips twisted as he prepared to flay me with his tongue. I watched the rage wash over him and instinctively pressed back against the bars, eyes darting for an escape that was not possible as he stormed towards me, naked and furious, every inch of his massive body poised for violence.

He lifted a hand and I flinched, yanking the spear up, ready to let fly… then saw him shudder. Then freeze.

There was a moment that he just stared at me, his face still twisted in rage, then the light went out in his eyes. I heard him mutter, “What am I doing?” Then he closed his eyes and shook his head as if he shook off the rage.

He started to turn away and I slumped, stunned to see him take such a leash on himself—but then he whirled back. I tensed again as he strode up to the bars of my cage, though without the edge of anger he’d had a moment before.

Then he pointed at me. “For all your judgment and sneering, if our roles were reversed, I would lay money that you would be more ruthless towards me than I have been with you.”

“Bullshit. My prisoners would always be fed, though nothing rich, it’s true.” Then I smiled. “It gives them more strength to endure torture.”

He opened his hands. “Then we understand each other. I stand by my word, Fetch. If you surrender the spear, I will bring you food myself.”

I pressed my lips tightly to stop the offers flowing off my tongue. Then, as we watched each other, I swallowed and pushed my pride aside. “Does your punishment extend beyond food?”

“Not yet. We’ll see.”

I squirmed and his eyes narrowed. He tipped his head in curiosity. “What is it?”

I looked down at the spear and cleared my throat. “I will have need of… resources, within a couple of days.”

He didn’t respond, and when I let myself look up, his expression was confused. “What resources? You already have a blanket and pillow and bucket… do you think I’d hand you horses?”

I rolled my eyes and squirmed again. God, I’d forgotten that the Nephilim had no women to speak of… But there was no point dragging it out. The situation wouldn’t change.

“I am female, Melek,” I said through my teeth. “In two days, I will begin my cycle and bleed all over… well, everything, unless I have some supplies.”

His brows shot up and his head snapped back. Then he scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, yes… right… Um…”

If I hadn’t been mortified myself, his discomfort would have been glorious.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, how much time until…”

“Approximately two days.”

He nodded. “Right. I’ll make sure one of the women servants visits tomorrow, she can discuss what you need and they’ll bring it.”

I hadn’t expected him to just… give it to me. I’d thought it would be a negotiation. Or some kind of leverage. I blinked.

“I… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I stared at him, fighting the urge in my chest to soften.

He sighed and folded his arms again. “Yilan, you know you can’t possibly win this,” he said quietly. Normally. As if I were a person, not a prisoner. I was stunned. I didn’t think he’d ever used my name before. “Give me the spear, and I’ll get you a fucking banquet.”

“No.”

He shook his head. “You stare down your nose at me for my pride, but cling to your own as if it sustains you. It will not. Your body weakens—and your mind will follow soon. We both know that. Surely it would be better…”

He kept talking, but something brushed the back of my neck, a prickling instinct, and I stopped listening to his lecture and scanned the tent.

It was still dark outside—the midnight dark just before dawn. There was no sound. The camp was quiet. And he was here… so, what scratched at my senses?

“…need further insight into the—”

“Hush,” I snapped, pushing onto the balls of my feet so I was in a crouch rather than a squat and no longer leaning on the cage. I gripped the spear tighter, with both hands, listening. Looking. Scanning. But there was nothing, save instinct.

Instincts I had learned to listen to years ago.

“Do not shush me, I am trying to help you,” he snapped. “There must be some way—”

“I said, hush! Shut up and use those battle-honed instincts because something is afoot—unless you want it proven again that I am superior?” I whispered, letting my eyes scan the tent slowly, but there was nothing.

I kept looking back at that tent flap, but the only movement was the air fluttering the loose canvas…

Melek prickled. But stopped lecturing me. “What?” He asked through gritted teeth.

I shivered. “I can sense… something… someone is close. Who would be out at this time of the night?”

His hands clenched to fists at his sides, but he turned, frowning, to scan the tent behind him. “There will always be movement. There are Nephilim all over the camp, and always patrols—”

“No, no. Not your hulking flesh. Something walks the shadows tonight,” I whispered.

He followed my gaze as I swept the tent again, frustrated because there was nothing. But relieved when Melek’s frown deepened and he didn’t dismiss me again. Instead, he trotted to the side of the tent where he’d undressed and discarded his weapons, picking up one of the spears and holding it prepared for battle. Then he crossed to the doorway and used the point to push aside the flap just barely, to peer out.

After a few moments, he shook his head. “Don’t move,” he muttered, then slipped outside in a surprising show of stealth. For such a large man, he moved light and quick.

I waited barely breathing, listening. I thought I heard his passage once, when he was at the end of the tent, behind where his bed was placed. But then nothing.

Moments later the tent flap pushed aside and he strode in, frowning. “Nothing. There’s no one out there. Were you just trying to distract me from—”

The shadow seeped in behind him, barely making the tent flap flutter, so subtle I almost missed it. But as he came striding towards me, I leaped to my feet.

“Melek, behind you!”