TENSLEY STOOD stiffly in front of the king, his legs wide, his fisted hands behind his back. The king, completely nude, stood from his large bed of feathered pillows and silk red sheets, a naked man and woman still lounging in the bed.
The monster bare, exposed to his subject, but not fearing him.
Tensley uncurled his hands.
“Ah, you received my message, I see,” Fallen said, strolling leisurely over to his elegant oak wood dresser and throwing on a dark robe, tying the middle, so it slouched on his shoulders. “To discuss this business of a wedding, so my men say.”
Tensley squared his jaw. He had discussed with a court member yesterday after the shaming of Prim in front of the court to move the wedding date up. The court member had sneered and told him he’d have to discuss it with Fallen first.
He wasn’t surprised Fallen had called upon him. Now he just needed to convince him to agree to the change.
“I would like to discuss this in private,” Tensley insisted, his eyes darting to the two forms still in Fallen’s bed.
Fallen’s smile weakened. He stared, unmoving, his gaze trailing along Tensley’s rigid form—looking for a weak spot, a spot to tear open and feast on.
One hand snapped up, and he waved it, the two people in his bed raising, shrugging on their clothing, and leaving.
Then it was just the two of them.
“I was exhausted after the punishment yesterday. I needed to regain my strength,” Fallen explained, gesturing to the door where the two had left. He picked up a golden goblet, examined whatever liquid pooled inside, and downed it, smacking his lips. “A soldier knows pain—they know how to cope, how to survive with physical torture—but the pain of another, the pain of someone they cherish is beyond their threshold. Seto needed to bow, needed to learn from his mistakes, and punishing Prim was also punishing him. Fitting, isn’t it?” He laughed, tilting his head to the side. “The court must know I won’t tolerate disobedience, won’t tolerate them putting their thirsts above me.”
Fallen walked over to an upholstered chair by his large balcony and sat down, crossing one leg over the over. His thin fingers weren’t to be trusted. They were misleading—his smooth skin, his tall, lithe frame. He was a monster, a monster capable of destroying Tensley and his bride without a labored breath expelled.
Tensley needed to appease the monster, but not bow. Fallen wanted an equal, but a subject that kissed his unholy feet.
“Many let themselves slip—believe they can do as they please and that I will not hear of it,” Fallen said as he picked up a raspberry piled in an ivory bowl of fruit and chewed it, the redness staining his sharp teeth. “But I know of every single detail.” He licked his finger clean. “That girl bled out overnight.” He tsked, shaking his head. Tensley’s chest burned. He thought of Molly, torn apart by the guilt of not doing anything. Of him not doing anything to help as they watched the court beat her. But they were mere guests, mere peasants compared to Fallen. “Seto was too vicious on her. Lilith saw such potential in her. A humble girl, not like the rest of her ladies, but noble in name. Her family will be so ashamed.”
Tensley gritted his teeth, thinking of his own father. If he knew Molly was pregnant out of wedlock, how his son would bring another scandal, he’d be livid.
“But you did not come to see me to discuss court politics, did you now?” He smiled at Tensley as if he were a dear old friend. Tensley wanted to smash his face so hard his teeth cracked. “My men report to me that you were discussing your wedding. Not for another year since you’re not twenty-nine yet, correct?” Fallen tapped his index finger on the gold encrusted arm of the chair, over and over. A thump of a heartbeat. Fast and rushed. Panicked.
Tensley swallowed thickly and lifted his chin, staring him down.
“I would like to move the date of my wedding up,” he said, sternly.
Fallen’s brows lowered. “Why is that?”
“Because I want the daemon to be completely mine.”
“You’ve claimed her. The entire court can see her golden necklace tight around her neck,” he argued, flicking his hand lazily as his wrist rested on the chair. “How did it feel to sink your teeth into that ivory flesh, hm? A thirst satisfied?”
Tensley fought his beast back with a single toss of his head, so smoothly. “I want her claimed in wedlock,” Tensley said, his voice harsh.
Fallen’s fingers paused, and he straightened in his chair. A silence passed, Fallen and Tensley staring coolly back at each other.
He wasn’t backing down. He’d give Molly his name, his power, and protection above all else, and all of this would be behind them.
“I will agree,” Fallen began, his voice so loud compared to the dead silence before. One finger lifted. “Only if you wed here. At High Court, amongst the court, with our traditions.”
Tensley inhaled very slowly, his chest expanding, his hands curling a little at his side as he looked at his king.
Traditions. The night of cruelty—the last night of a man’s singlehood and entrance into marriage.
“Agreed.” He had sealed his fate with the king, but he had saved them.
“Excellent. It will give the court entertainment. We’ll begin planning the wedding for tomorrow. I think in my throne room would be lovely, don’t you?”
Tensley frowned. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Fallen stood and passed by Tensley. “You must pack—the groom is not allowed to see the bride until the wedding ceremony. I’ll have my servants arrange everything for tomorrow. Tell your bride the news.”
Tensley bowed, backing away, his fingers itching to wrap around the king’s neck. He moved through the hallway, early light of the sun streaming into the grand hallways of marble and gold. His shoes thumped on the floor like a war cry, a wild drum signaling an oncoming battle.
Tomorrow?
Fucking tomorrow?
Once he reached their bedchambers, he paused, sucked in a deep breath, and entered.
Molly stood, her back arched as the servant tightened her corset. Her dress a deep purple was cut high on her right thigh, tempting and seducing.
Molly’s head twisted to see him standing there, her crown of blonde locks pooling down her bare ivory back.
“My lord,” the servant addressed, pausing. She curtsied, but Tensley shook his head, his focus entirely on his bride.
His bride.
Tomorrow, his wife.
“Leave us.”
The servant bowed again and moved fast out of the room.
He watched the tops of Molly’s breasts heave, slow but deep.
“Tensley?” Molly’s pink lips pulled into a frown.
“Turn around,” he commanded, voice low but soft.
Molly gave him a long look, and after a second, she turned and gripped the banister of the canopy bed.
Tensley marched over, his shoes loud thumps in the silence between them, beside her hushed breaths. His hands found her waist, so small, so fragile, and moved up to the lace of ribbon.
“I saw the king,” he whispered and yanked the lace tighter, so Molly gasped, jolting against his frame.
“And?” Molly turned her head, giving him a sight of her breathtaking side profile, her nose straight and delicate, her lashes resting on her ivory cheeks, a hint of blush on the apples of them.
He yanked again.
She gasped.
“He agreed,” he said and focused on the pink lace, tying it tight. “As long as we wed here. Tomorrow.”
He watched her spine straighten, the bones tensing under her skin. “Tomorrow?”
His eyes examined her face, her teeth chewing on that natural pout and the crease between her brows.
A pinch of fear and agony seized him. Maybe she didn’t want to marry him, carry his family name.
“I want you safe,” Tensley murmured. His thumb trailed dangerously along her bare shoulder blade, watching the bone roll under his touch.
Her piercing eyes met his, shining bright, her hair glowing from the spilling morning sunlight. “I just always imagined my wedding with friends and family, in a church in Manhattan.”
He turned her fully, his hands on her hips, and with one finger, lifted her delicate chin to look straight into heaven. “I promise you when this is all over—I will marry you again. The way that pleases you, the way you want.”
He’d be a subject to her, he’d bow for her, and he’d expose his neck, and kiss her holy feet. His loyalty was to her above all else.
A tiny smile played on her lips, and she blinked up at him. “I only want you.”
He sighed, pressing his forehead to hers, shutting his eyes. To feel her, to sense her—before he left.
“There’s another thing,” Tensley told her and straightened, stroking her soft cheek.
Molly blinked up at him, her brow furrowing again. “What is it?”
“We can’t see each other until the ceremony,” he told her. He instantly saw the tension in her shoulders build. “We both will perform traditional wedding preparations. You will spend the time with Lilith and her ladies, preparing for the ceremony, and I will spend my last night with the men of the court. Hunting, drinking.” He paused, gripping her hands in his. “A man’s last feast, but I won’t devour any women they present to me, dolcezza. My thirst is for you only.”
Molly rolled her bottom lip into her mouth and shakily breathed out. “I know, I’m just—this is happening so fast.”
He nodded and stole one last kiss. “Tomorrow, between thorns and blood, we’ll be wed before the crown and court. I will be aloof, I will be cold and vicious, but I’m your beast. Only yours.”
He moved back, but she gripped his cheeks and shakily kissed him. Harshly, viciously—and he growled, knowing he wasn’t the only beast.
She was a beast, and she was all his.