Page 8 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

He caught my hesitation and pushed his advantage, walking up on me, sliding his hands to my waist, lowering his voice.

“Don’t ruin this for us, Dee,” he whispered, suddenly soft.

Suddenly sweet. Dropping his head to kiss my neck in that spot that I loved.

“What we have is so special—and I do admire you—”

“Because you want to fuck me,” I said baldly.

And the shameless bastard lifted his head and smiled. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Now who’s being ignorant?” My voice shook, but I swallowed and held my ground. “Don’t touch me. Ever again.”

He rolled his eyes and his hands dropped from my waist. “Here we go. I knew it was too good to be true that you could possess the mind of a man on these matters—”

“No, Walt. I will never possess the mind of a man, and thank God. Thank God, because it means I’ll never be like you,” I hissed. And then I struck.

A fist, straight to his undefended stomach that shoved the air from his lungs and snapped him in half so I could grab his shoulders and bring my knee up to finish the job.

But Walt was a soldier. A fighter. An officer. Several inches tall, half my weight again… And he had over a decade more experience and training.

Even with watering eyes and no air, his hands were lightning quick and when I brought my knee up, he caught the leg and twisted it, yanked it aside, throwing my balance off so that I was forced to cling to him to stay upright.

I cursed, hands clawing in his shirt, hissing—but my heart hammered with sheer panic. Walt’s rage was a forest fire. It peeled his lips back from his teeth, tore curses from his throat in guttural snarls, and left fingerprint bruises where he grabbed me.

We wrestled. I struggled. And at first, I thought I might get free.

A well-placed palm to his nose when he straightened, and he cried out and jerked away, letting go of my leg, though he almost threw me backwards in the process.

“Bitch!” he snarled, turning his back on me and grabbing his face. “I can’t believe you fucking—”

Panting, sweating, panicking, I kicked the back of his knee so his weight tipped and he cried out. But he was hunched over, and before I could get a decent hold on his shoulders, he roared and whirled on me.

I punched and kicked, writhed like a cat, struggling so hard I saw stars.

But even though I hurt him again and again, he used his weight against me. He took my blows and wasn’t deterred, though he ducked his head and swore over and over.

When I clawed his face with my nails, he bellowed and grabbed that wrist, then the other and twisted his ankle around mine and took us both to ground.

I landed so hard—and with his weight on me—I was knocked silly for a moment. But when I blinked and saw straight again, he was over me, teeth bared, both my wrists manacled in his, his body pinning mine to the floor in an awful parody of the ways he’d seduced me in the past.

“Do you see, Diadre?” he growled, blood seeping down his cheek and smeared under his nose from the wounds I’d given him. “Do you see why you will never be trusted in battle?” He held me there and his eyes narrowed. “Stupid. Fucking. Cunt .”

He thrust his hips once—we were both fully clothed, but I cried out, because he was hard, and the fear that he’d—

“You will never be a soldier, Diadre. You don’t have the equipment. That is something you can only gain from a man,” he said hoarsely.

He stared down at me, eyes fevered and hair sticking in all directions. Sweat and blood trickling down his face. Still, he held me there, and no matter how I struggled, I couldn’t get loose.

Fear sang through my veins. Would he attack me? Rape me?

He leaned down until I felt the patter of a blood drop on my cheek. “You did this,” he hissed. “You destroyed this. Don’t come crawling back to me when you realize I only spokethe truth.”

Then he shoved up and away, letting me go, pushing to his feet, wiping his face and swearing again when he saw the blood. But he didn’t stop. Just kept wiping it away and cursing as he straightened and prepared to climb down the ladder to the barn below.

He left me without a backward glance. Laying there in the half-light of the loft feeling saturated in shame.

He’d overpowered me so easily… so he’d only ever toyed with me in training? Let me dominate? Fooled me about his admiration?

Did Jhonas do that too?

Was I a joke? A child believing they could become a fairy?

I sucked in a breath and shook my head, pushed away the dark memories and reminded myself that was a decade ago.

I was no longer that young, na?ve girl. But I had to grit my teeth against the churning self-loathing of my younger self, and blink away tears from the heartbroken compassion of my present-self for the young woman who’d been so badly misused.

The woman who believed him, and almost gave up this life. This life which had been such a challenge, and still… still the life I was made for. I knew that now.

Would I ever be able to fight a warrior, pound for pound, on brute strength? No. But men came in different shapes and sizes too. And if Jhonas had insisted on anything, it was that I learn to play to my strengths and keep my enemies away from my weaknesses.

And here I was.

A Captain of the crown. A leader of men. A true soldier.

Also alone, that little voice in the back of my head whispered so I cursed under my breath.

Alone was… unavoidable.

I enjoyed men. I enjoyed sex. Even after that show from Walt and the shaky uncertainty I’d walked in for a good year afterwards, I’d learned to carry myself… perhaps not as Jhonas could. But with my own authority.

And the stronger and more skilled I became, the more weak men were intimidated by me, and strong men wanted to possess me.

And they’d sometimes grow aggressive—even violent—when they couldn’t subjugate me.

I’d gained a reputation for being what the soldiers called, a ball-buster. I’d put more than one drunk man on the street in the infirmary for misjudging my capabilities.

I no longer had to worry about Shadekin men deciding they could overpower me. I’d proven myself. I was allowed to live and be and fight.

I hadn’t felt that kind of uncertainty or… or weakness for years now. Until the arrival of the Neph.

As Jann pushed past me on his horse and into a gallop, I kicked my mare to follow. But that quavering uncertainty rode in my veins.

Fighting the Nephilim had been nothing short of terrifying. If I hadn’t had Jannus at my back for the majority of that clash, I would not have survived it. I had no qualms about admitting that. A stronger enemy was a stronger enemy. Someone always won.

But then, if I hadn’t been there, Jann might not have made it, either, even with all his strength.

That was the point: A soldier’s life was more than brute strength. It was skill, and cunning, and instinct. And so far… so far I had survived it. More than survived. I had thrived.

Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if our peoples were thrown together in truth. If this peace that Melek and Yilan aimed for was actually achieved.

Would these brutes ever be capable of respect?

I’d fought in battle and spent most of my time avoiding them, backing Jann up, only attacking when I could get behind a Neph, or find a stab…

It wasn’t hard to imagine that kind of size and strength turned against me maliciously. That fierce masculinity and lack of respect, taking from me.

I shuddered.

I would never underestimate these creatures as enemies. Thank God I’d had a reason to get out of that camp and—

“What’s wrong?” Jann looked over his shoulder, pulling his horse up from a gallop and dropping back, his forehead pinched.

“Nothing, I’m thinking. Ride on,” I called. But he continued to ease back, slow his horse until I caught up. But he was frowning.

“Stop bullshitting, Diadre. We’re only going to succeed if we work together. What are you worrying about? I can see that you’re tense.”

I rolled my eyes, but dropped my horse back to a steady trot. Jann matched our pace with his beast.

“How many of your warriors weren’t in that camp when we battled?” I asked him. “How many were back in the war camp where Melek held Yilan, or are roaming around, not-allied to them? How many live in the city, or are scattered over the Continent and have no hint of what we’re trying to achieve?”

Jann huffed. “Thousands. That’s why it’s so crucial for Melek to establish himself as King.

He already carries the bulk of our fighting strength, which in our culture would usually set him up as the future King.

But our people have deep, powerful circles in trade, and political strength as well.

Ultimately, he’ll have to take dominance in all areas.

Until he does the question will remain in many minds. ”

I swallowed hard. “All those men… they’re all as big as you? Even the ones who don’t fight?”

He shrugged. “Yes. Most aren’t as strong as the fighters, but I doubt you’d notice the difference between one of us and a merchant.

We have a few bloodlines that are finer boned or leaner builds, but in truth…

if you’re asking if we are especially large among our people, no.

Perhaps fitter, but our men are mighty, Diadre. ”

I went cold thinking about that day with Walt and his ability to overpower me—and the way Jann had done so with even more ease. Now we faced this entire people who believed they could just take women.

Even if Melek and Jann had other followers, what would come of their insistence that the men control those urges? Would they even listen?

Who would stop them if they didn’t?

I hadn’t realized I was speaking those thoughts out loud, but Jann answered.

“That’s precisely why I told you to stick close when we’re around other Neph. When we go back to my people, we have to maintain the facade that I’m taking you. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

I felt a flash of gratitude—then a surge of hate for it. “Can’t you see how sick that is?”

Jann slowed his horse to a walk. Reluctantly, I matched him. His face was somber… almost stern. “That’s exactly why I take it so seriously. Exactly why I had to be so firm with you. It was never me who thought my people were not a danger to you, Diadre. You were… not seeing clearly.”

“That’s not the point—a woman should be able to walk among men without anticipating rape. Yet, you say among your people I need only walk around to be taken. How can you live with that?”

His expression went very dark. “I don’t. And don’t ever again assume that I do when you have not spent one day in my company by choice,” he growled, then kicked his horse into a rolling canter.

I was frustrated and afraid… and feeling a little bit guilty because I’d obviously offended him.

But then I remembered that we were talking about an entire people who reproduced through rape and exploitation of slaves.

I wasn’t the bad guy here.

A tiny voice in the back of my head wanted to insist that Jann wasn’t either, but then I remembered how easily he’d taken control.

Could any man who knew he had that kind of power really be trusted?