“ARES HAS DECLARED WAR.”
Tensley scoffed at his father’s punctured words. As if to make him feel guilty for angering the opposing group. “They must have a death wish.”
“Mock all you want,” Mr. Knight said, his dark eyes penetrating his son’s across the single desk that separated them. “We are not fit to wage war. The hunters made a large enough dent to injure us.”
“But they didn’t destroy us,” Tensley added. “Would you prefer I handed Molly over to Ares, Father?”
His father snarled in his throat. Tensley knew his father couldn’t argue with that. Molly Darling—his warrior, his dolcezza, his venom—was an asset to Scorpios and the Knights. She was the Queen on an ancient chessboard. Demons would bow for her.
His Queen of the Underworld had been gone for almost three weeks now, and each day, the cravings, the longing to hold her, to claim that pouty mouth, and devour her on his desk, legs spread, eyeing that sweetness that belonged only to the beast, intensified.
To think someone with power had almost snatched her away.
His teeth sharpened at the thought. Whoever Pearce had been determined to take her to was still out there, waiting for the perfect time to dig their dirty claws into her.
He searched every inch of the city and then some, ending up empty-handed. Consumed with trying to find the bastard, he had barely spoken to Molly. He also didn’t want to invade her time in Paris.
Three weeks without absorbing energy, he’d learned to hide his exhaustion, his cravings for his dolcezza. Women in Scorpios blatantly offered, but he ignored them with a glare and a growl. Only one woman stirred the beast.
Laughter from outside of his office disturbed his thoughts, and he looked up to see his father with an ugly scowl. The party outside was the least of his worries.
“You will soon be taking over my position as Dux of Scorpios,” his father said sternly. “I expect you to begin to set an example to your fellow members.”
Tensley worked his jaw, forcing himself to stay silent.
“The wedding’s a year away,” Tensley said. “Until then, I’m the heir to Scorpios.”
“Since the daemon has been announced to the court, everyone will be watching your every move. Our every move. We cannot allow ourselves to appear weak. Especially with Ares threatening to attack.”
“The last thing I am is weak,” Tensley said, his anger swelling in his chest. With Molly, he’d never be weak.
Mr. Knight sighed and stepped closer, the shadows in the office warping his features. “We cannot face another scandal in our family. Your brother’s downfall was ours, but you are the phoenix. Rise from our ashes.”
Tensley worked his jaw, staring at his clenched hands. A hollow ache filtered through his body when his brother, Beau’s downfall was mentioned. The rawness of fear and anger stormed his body like a spark to gasoline, but Tensley had learned to calm himself before the flame devoured him.
He was not his brother, but his brother’s scandal and punishment—his heart ripped from his chest and his lover killed along with their unborn child—still weighed on Tensley’s shoulders every second.
“Dux is not just a title. It takes a certain man to lead us. If he needs to be cruel, he is cruel, if he needs to be patient—he beheads them,” Mr. Knight spoke. In the midst of shadows, Tensley noted how his father belonged there.
And it was where Tensley would end up.
A cruel, powerful leader.
A façade.
His fate, his path was to become the cruel, heartless Dux.
But his chest warred with him.
Be the vicious Dux to honour his family or be—something unacceptable in his culture. A demon too tender, too caring.
“I’m doing this all for you, my son,” Mr. Knight spoke, his dark eyes scanning his son. “You share my blood. You are the only man I would trust with Scorpios.”
Tensley’s gaze snapped to his father, a thrill expanding inside of him.
Acceptance. Approval.
Tensley cleared his throat, thickening at the wave of emotion seizing him. “Thank you, sir.”
His father sent him one final glance and then left Tensley’s office.
Tensley slumped back in his leather chair and sighed, rubbing his aching temples. He wasn’t meant to become the Dux of Scorpios until he married Molly. Then all the power would shift from his father to him, as well as Mr. Rose to Evelyn Rose, his ex-lover. With Molly gone for the last three weeks, Evelyn had harassed him with dirty whispers and arm strokes as she passed by him. Every time he dismissed her advances, she became more aggressive. He’d forgotten how ambitious she was.
She didn’t want him. She wanted the power he’d bring as the future Dux of Scorpios.
Molly wanted something forbidden, something dangerous, and he was tired of fighting against his own wants.
He’d devour the forbidden, he’d taste the sweetness, and then he’d claim the daemon all over again.
Three loud knocks startled him from his thoughts and he sat up. “Come in.”
One of his soldiers opened the door, but Tensley frowned at how pale he looked. “Sir, someone’s here to see you.”
Tensley glared at how shaky the man’s voice was and stood. “Who is it?”
The soldier swallowed. “Lord Fallen.”
Fucking hell.
Tensley took a deep breath, erasing any disbelief, any fear on his features, stood, and moved forward. He marched past the soldier and down the hallway, the laughter gone, the guests silenced by their King.
Tensley turned the corner, steeling himself as he came face to face with Lord Fallen.
His men and his guests pressed themselves to the walls, afraid of the king and his raging wrath.
Fallen’s guards bordered each side of him, moving like an extended limb to protect their vicious king—cloaked in darkness, a black suit underneath and a cane with a serpent’s head on the end, its tail snaked around the dark wood.
Behind Fallen stood Tensley’s father among his guests.
No one whispered, no one breathed as Tensley stood still, facing Fallen.
Tensley bowed his head, a hand on the right side of his chest, a symbol of loyalty, of obedience he bitterly showed to his king and his men.
Fallen’s thin mouth quirked into a dark grin. “Mr. Knight, I believe we need to speak about certain matters. In private.”
Tensley squared his jaw and nodded, gesturing behind him. “Then please, follow me.”
As soon as Fallen moved, his guards followed him like a shadow, their shoes clanking against the tiled floors.
Tensley walked back to his office, the heavy stare of each member on him, including the King’s behind him. Sweat rolled down his neck and into the collar of his shirt.
Don’t act guilty. You did nothing wrong.
Tensley opened his office door, allowing Fallen to walk through first, but once his father approached the door, the guards stepped in as a barrier.
“This is a private matter between your son and me, Salvatore,” Fallen said, lowly.
Tensley glanced back at his father’s expression, nostrils flaring. Then he shut the door.
Alone with a deadly king was not the most ideal situation.
Tensley stood rigid in front of Lord Fallen, who sat comfortably on his leather chair, his gold-ringed fingers trailing the side of his face, his cane discarded.
The Crown Prince, the King of the High Court, Lord Fallen, the bane of Tensley Knight’s existence. One wrong word and he’d smite him.
Gossipers shared the legends of cruelty. They whispered about how he had used his harsh claws to slice open flesh of his court members and of how no one who wished to be King had succeeded in dethroning him.
Murder the crown, marry the crown.
To become king, one had to murder the king.
Many had tried, more failed.
Fallen had ruled for centuries without a threat.
“That party seemed lively,” Fallen said, a chilling smile to his mouth as he stared unblinkingly at Tensley. “Such a pity you were locked up in here. It’s too dark for my personal taste. Black and oak wood and—more black.” His sharp eyes darted to the liquor cabinet. “But I approve of that.”
Tensley didn’t smile or laugh. That’s what he wanted. He wanted his men to suck his dick and then ask how deep.
Fallen shook his head and stroked his chin. “So serious, just like your father.”
Tensley balled his hands beside him, testing his patience. “How can I help you, Lord Fallen?”
“You seem nervous, Tensley,” he said, eyeing his figure.
Tensley’s pulse quickened. If Fallen had a hint that Molly was a threat and he somehow knew Molly had killed Pearce, this wouldn’t end well for either of them.
When Fallen didn’t get the reaction he wanted, he straightened.
“Pearce Saint,” Fallen said and every bone in Tensley’s body tightened. “He was a friend of yours, yes?”
“Through family, yes,” Tensley said. Pearce had been unpredictably angry his entire life, but he took it to new extremes when he tried to kidnap Molly and murdered her innocent friend.
“Hmm,” Fallen said and tilted his head. “And the last time you spoke to him?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Was he going somewhere?”
“I’m not sure. He tends to take off for months on end without contact,” Tensley supplied, and that wasn’t a lie. Pearce traveled for months and did god knows what.
He wanted him to fucking say what he feared was coming. Fallen was stringing him along to make it painful—and he was enjoying it.
Fallen hummed again soft and slow, as if the conversation would lull him to sleep. The fingers he had been stroking on the armrest suddenly stopped all movement. “Pearce Saint is dead, Mr. Knight. Murdered to be exact,” he said coolly. The corner of his lips twisted slowly, sarcastically. “I must admit I was a bit surprised when I discovered your daemon was the murderer.”
Tensley’s mouth grew bone dry. Only one word filled in his head like a curse and lullaby.
Molly.
“She has nothing to do with this,” he seethed.
Molly didn’t exist in the court—she had no power, no voice, and if Fallen wished to punish her, he could with no objections.
But he wouldn’t get rid of her.
She was too rare as a daemon. Fallen and the court would use her, abuse her, and that rattled Tensley to his core. She was powerless in court, but Tensley wasn’t. If Fallen punished him, it would be a pinch compared to what he could do to Tensley’s fiancée.
She’s safe. He wouldn’t hurt her.
“Oh? And why should I believe that? I have eyes and ears throughout every single inch of New York. Are you saying my men are wrong?”
Tensley pinched his palm until he cut the skin. Deep breaths, deep breaths.
Fallen relaxed against the chair, lazily running a finger along his other ringed fingers, the gold shining under the low lights of the office. “As a non-demon, she’d be sentenced to life imprisonment or death. Most likely death as the High Court does not favor humans.”
And fuck if he was ever going to let that happen.
“You wouldn’t,” Tensley snapped, storming toward the man. “She’s a daemon. You need her. She’s too rare to kill.”
Fallen sucked at his teeth long and hard. “That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Knight.” Tensley’s stomach twisted at the sinister grin forming on Fallen’s face. “I found my own daemon.”