THE DARK hallway shadowed Molly and Tensley as they marched to the throne room. Where Tensley and the king would fight. Where there was a chance Tensley would take his last breath if things went wrong.
But he wouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
He’s not dying tonight.
Molly shook her head, clenching her shaking hands together.
Molly’s chest burned, and she tried to keep up with Tensley’s fast steps, a cry at the edge of her tongue. His tailored coat strained between his shoulders, his muscles taut and flexed powerfully as he moved with confidence, but she saw the tension. The tension when he twisted his neck, the way his fingers curled and uncurled repetitively with his footfalls.
Tensley halted at the end of the hallway, the loud chatter of the court beyond the bronze doors raising her pulse. It rattled the chandelier above them, and it rattled Molly’s aching heart.
He rolled his tailored jacket off his shoulders, revealing his plain undershirt, shoving up the sleeves to showing his toned forearms.
Molly watched him flex his hands out, strengthening his muscles, his power to fight the king of demons.
She tried to speak, but anxiety choked her vocal cords. She licked at her trembling lips and stepped forward.
“Tensley,” she whispered, her heart pounding in her ears, the loudness drowning out the chaos beyond the doors.
Tensley glanced up, his head still bowed in his hands, his gray eyes narrowed in concentration.
“Don’t do this,” Molly said her voice shaky. She grabbed his hand and held it, dragging it to her chest. “Let me bargain. Let me speak to him. We can figure something else out.”
Tensley’s jaw tensed, and he ran his free hand along her cheek and held her, searching her eyes for something—something she wasn’t sure he could see. “Until I have his severed head in my fist, you’re not safe.” For once, his eyes weren’t black, but bloodshot and wet with unwept tears, but with an angry hiss, he fought them back. “We’re not safe. And I will kill him—or anyone else who threatens us. King or not. I’ll rip his crown off.”
“He could kill you, Tensley,” Molly hushed, hotness piercing her eyes, her hands gripping his white shirt, tugging him as close as possible.
“We’re walking out of here, dolcezza,” Tensley said, gripping both of her cheeks in his hands. “I’m not dying tonight. Far from it.” His thumb brushed across her streaks of tears, rubbing them deeper into her skin, and she saw the way his features contorted.
“I can help you,” she said, voice shaking, but determination filling her bones. “Let me fight with you.”
Tensley shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. You’re carrying something too precious to risk, Molly.”
She breathed through the tears wetting her cheeks and blinked up at the man she loved.
The man who was risking his life to protect her and their child.
She sucked in a deep breath, steeling herself, collecting her strength, and swallowed her fear for him. “Make him bow.”
A smirk spread across Tensley’s swollen lips, and he dipped his head, gripping her hair with power and desperation and devoured her lips.
She kissed him back with so much energy, so much power for him to wield, for him to destroy the king and the court that threatened them.
Make them bow.
Make them cower.
Make them think twice before threatening them.
Kiss of power, kiss of venom, kiss so cruel.
Her hands dug into his chest, anchoring him to her, afraid to let him go, but she knew, as soon as her lips left his, he was going off to battle.
She didn’t want to let him go, so she ran her fingers through his hair and gripped the silky edges.
And then one final peck—one final touch—and he let go.
“Sometimes,” he started, his voice barely above a whisper but still as powerful as a dark, cruel wind during a thunderstorm.
Molly paused, her breath hitching slightly.
Tensley shook his head as if battling with himself. “Many times, during the past few weeks, when we've laid together at night, your body draped across mine, your skin against my own and your breath caressing my lips, many times I've wondered what it would be like to not be what I am. The demon. The cruel, unapologetic and power-hungry demon that I was made to be. The Dux. I've wondered what it would be like to be something else, something...more for you.”
Molly’s throat tightened to the point she was afraid to breathe.
He paused, a frown appearing between his brows as if he was lost to his own thought. “Never in my life have I wanted to be human. To be anything other than a demon, I've always been proud of what I am. But during those nights, I've wondered. If only because it meant I could love you. Love you the way you deserve. The way I've come to realize I've wanted to. Love you and tell you so, in as many ways as possible. Love you and be able to show the whole damn world how you've completely ensnared me. But because of what I am, because of how I was...raised, I couldn't.”
His hand came to rest against the side of her throat, his eyes admiring what she knew was the shadow of her collar there, a gentle caress of his fingers against her skin. She shivered.
“During our wedding night, I…” he paused, licking at his bottom lip. “…that was my way of saying it as best as my instincts would allow. Of showing you how much I loved you. But it wasn't enough. I knew that the second I challenged Fallen for power. I knew then and there I could not go in there, fight for you, for our baby, for my family, for Scorpios, and not tell the person who matters the most that I loved her.”
Molly’s knees wobbled and she feared if Tensley wasn’t holding her, she’d fall.
He took a deep breath, his hand gliding from her throat to her cheek. “I love you, Molly Darling. I realized I don't give a fuck about what I am, who I'm supposed to be and the things I'm forbidden to say. I love you with my whole cruel heart. It's wild and ruthless, but it beats for you and only for you, my dolcezza. You've turned a sullen, dark, pitiful heart into a living, pounding beast.”
His lips brushed softly against hers. “I love you,” he whispered once more against her lips before pulling away.
And there, in the deep gray of her husband's eyes, she could see the truth behind the words he had just spoken, his emotions bared to her completely, vulnerable.
She could see his love for her, the one thing Molly had craved but never dared ask for. Her own eyes turned heavy with emotions. She smiled up at the man she loved so deeply it hurt and let out a laugh, cracked by the force of her feelings.
“I love you, Tensley,” she whispered back.
His hand caressed her cheek once more before dropping.
In a blink of an eye, she saw Tensley transform into the beast he hid deep within himself, transforming into the warrior ready for battle.
Molly nodded once, her way of saying she knew what he had to do and what was about to happen. With one last look Tensley turned.
Her eyes stayed firmly on his back, her heart galloping, her entire world tilted. Her chest tightened, his words cascading down her soul, and into her heart.
I love you.
He steeled himself to stone, to iron, and threw open the bronze doors, entering into the packed room of court members crowded around the golden design circle in the center.
Fallen stood within the circle, his shirt removed, his muscles toned and firm under the low lighting, and his hair swept back into a short ponytail.
The crowd’s cheering drowned out their footsteps as Tensley entered the room, Molly by his side.
“Come forward,” Fallen ordered no room for disobedience.
Tensley stood still for a moment, and then shed his white shirt, exposing his rippling muscles as he moved forward.
A lethal weapon from her kiss.
Tensley’s foot stepped over the gold line, entering into the ring of his future, and Molly clenched her chest.
Please be safe.
Fallen raised a single hand, silencing the crowd, his focus on Tensley.
Both similar heights, but Tensley was built wider, packed with more muscles.
That meant nothing, though.
Two guards flanked her sides, and she gritted her teeth, ignoring them. She looked to the crowd of highborns, finally landing on the prince. His hand cupped his chin, eyeing each of the men in front of him—analyzing their movements and each glance exchanged between them.
If Tensley won, the prince would be the new king. She saw the stress in his bent brow and the way he drummed his fingers on his chin. The stakes were too high for him.
Molly looked away, her stomach twisting tighter the longer she watched the prince.
Fallen examined his opponent, pacing slowly, like a lion stalking its prey.
Molly wanted desperately to fight beside her husband, to shield him, to destroy the king, but she forced herself to stay where she was.
The drums began, pounding deep into her bones, shattering her strength.
Please, please, please.
Tensley glanced back—once, for a single second, their eyes locked, but it told her everything. That familiar gaze of bold rebellion. Of power and confidence.
A look that sent a war of trembles through her body. This man would not bow—except for her and he would destroy every man in his path.
He was going to be fine.
With her kiss, he’d win.
She felt it in her bones and in her beating heart.
He would make the king bow.
“I hope you enjoyed the kiss of power the daemon gave you because it’ll be your last. You will die with that kiss on your lips, make no mistake, boy,” Fallen bit out—and they both lunged, two powerful forces colliding.
One a king.
One a man she loved.
TENSLEY POUNDED UPON the king’s shoulders and chest with strikes of pure rage, pure anger, dodging and striking, panting and roaring.
Fallen paced, taking each blow with a grin, swallowing a grunt, a groan.
But it only fueled Tensley’s beast to strike faster, harder. Fear of what would happen if he lost propelled him forward.
Make this bastard bow.
The crowd’s cries vibrated through his body, but Molly’s kiss of power drove his muscles and bones forward.
Do this for her.
Fight for her.
Kill for her.
The single thought of Molly drove him faster, harder, and stronger to destroy Fallen.
Each strike was for her. Each sound of flesh on bone crackled through the thick, tense air was for her.
He’d kill the king and protect her.
For my son.
For my son to not live under such harsh laws—to adore and love his own mother without an ounce of fear. To be the man I couldn’t be.
It was finally when his fist collided with the king’s jaw, the king paused, working his features. With his mouth open, Tensley saw the blood staining his sharp teeth.
“The king bleeds,” Tensley said, smirking victoriously.
Fallen wiped at his mouth and spat onto the white marble floor. A dark look took to his features—a monster more than a man. A snarl of warning, of war, and Tensley knew the battle was finally starting.
Tensley gasped at the power from one single pound into his chest, but that didn’t stop him. It only made him grow vicious.
Tensley growled and swung, missing him only for Fallen to punch him square in the mouth.
Tensley caught himself, glaring at the king pacing in front of him, tasting the iron blood swarming his mouth.
“I’ve only just begun, boy,” Fallen spat, cracking his knuckles slowly. “Your wife is going to see you on your knees begging for mercy.”
Tensley held in his reaction with a battered breath, studying the king’s movements, his tics—to find his weak spot, to find a way to destroy him.
Focus. Stay focused.
But his mind continued to replay his greatest fears—of losing Molly, of losing his everything when he finally tasted heaven and hell. Fear crept up his spine like a cold finger, but he shook it off.
I can’t let him win.
I won’t let him win.
Tensley rushed forward, darting sideways and slamming his entire weight with his fist into the king’s side, only to then strike his chest in a brutal blow.
He heard the king’s breath puff out of his chest, knocking the air from his lungs.
Blow after blow, he weakened the king. He ducked his head when Fallen swung and used his shoulder to shove him back.
Tensley’s arms wrapped around the king’s neck and tightened, watching as the king’s skin turned blue.
He could taste the sweet victory in his mouth, feel the jackrabbit pulse of Fallen against his flesh, and he felt power.
“Beg,” Tensley bit out.
Fallen snarled.
And Tensley watched the king’s fingers uncurl from his fists.
And he saw the long glimmering nails.
And before he could brace himself, the king dug his nails across Tensley’s forearm.
Fucking hell!
Tensley snarled at the burning flesh of skin, and it was all it took for Fallen to overpower him, escaping his death grip, and those nails dug across Tensley’s cheek.
Tensley wrinkled his left eye, seeing the steam of flesh burning on his face and eyed the king in front of him, pacing as he gathered his breath.
“An herb dangerous to demons’ flesh,” Fallen said, his painted neutral nails glimmering in the light. “No rules in this death match, boy.”
Tensley didn’t waste time, charging forward, and Fallen raised his claws, about to strike. Tensley dodged him, gripping Fallen’s few fingers and twisting them until they all broke.
Fallen roared.
Tensley struck again, over and over to the side of his face, bloody and bruised, raking rivers of flesh off the king’s cheek and shoulder. He wanted the king to bleed, the king to become so disfigured, no one in the court would recognize him.
He wanted him to scream—beg.
“Enough,” Fallen hissed. “Enough of the childish games.”
Then the true beast emerged.
Fallen gripped the back of Tensley’s neck and pounded into his throat.
Tensley gasped, wheezing as his airway broke.
Bastard.
Tensley elbowed him back, but Fallen didn’t stop.
Each blow Tensley attempted, Fallen beat him to it. Each strike, Fallen halted his movements.
Tensley growled in frustration.
“I watched you,” Fallen panted, his eyes gleaming in victory and humor, “your movements, your weak spots—” Fallen struck Tensley’s left shoulder as he tried to attack Fallen’s left side. “I am getting bored of these games. Show me the power—show me the beast!”
I’ll fucking show you the beast. The fucking daemon’s beast.
Tensley snarled, striking, pounding, one fatal blow after another, but Fallen just grew more vicious, more violent, more barbaric.
Tensley lifted his knee, aiming to hit Fallen’s stomach, but Fallen’s claws caught his thigh and cut huge gouges of flesh off the bone.
Tensley roared in pain and staggered back, choking on labored breaths. Blood poured from his thigh, coating his skin and pooling around his feet. Muscle fiber hung loosely from his leg, a grim sight, but a sight he had to ignore. Forget the pain, forget the ugliness. He limped as the king across from him grinned with bloody teeth.
Fucking bastard.
Blood coated Tensley’s left side of his face, lashes wet with sweat and redness of his own. He licked his swollen, cut lips and grimaced at the pain in his ribs.
Forget the damn pain. Focus, focus on her.
Molly would heal the damage. He just needed to survive, needed to destroy the king.
He had noticed the king’s weak spot—his neck—if he got a hand, just one single hand wrapped around it for one mere second, he’d sever the spine and rip his head off. The only way to destroy him.
With a deep, painful breath, Tensley lunged, appearing as if to strike his left side, Fallen side-stepped.
Tensley dodged Fallen’s arm and appeared behind him, gripping his lower back—crack.
Fallen flopped to the ground, his spine broken, gasping in shock and pain.
The entire court went silent.
Tensley huffed and puffed, staring down at Fallen as he attempted to crawl, only able to use his upper body. His hands clawed at the floor, he moved, trying to get up, but he couldn’t.
Tensley’s bloody hands trembled with need and power at the mere sight of seeing his nightmare weak.
The king snarled his defiance as Tensley reached down and grabbed him by the throat, compressing around his vibrating neck of anger and pain.
Tensley growled back.
He watched as the king’s head flopped back, his obsidian eyes shutting.
A sign of weakness, of giving up.
Victory was his.
Molly was his.
His duty to protect his people, his Scorpios, his family, and Molly. Molly above all else.
He could taste the sweetness mixed with the iron blood on his tongue, and he fought back a smile. He could hear the snap of the king’s neck and the warm blood dripping onto his bare feet. The rush of strength, the rush of power—the final rush of freedom.
Molly’s pure relief of him not dying by the king’s hands, the way her shoulders would sag, and she would rush to him.
Relief from carrying such a powerful weapon inside of him.
For Molly.
For their son.
His own family.
Tensley’s hand tightened, feeling his fingertips touch the swallowing throat of the king and wrap around it—crushing—severing—
But within that same breath of victory, Fallen’s hand punctured Tensley’s chest.
Tensley choked.
Breaking bones and flesh, and the king’s single hand wrapped around his beating heart—and Tensley lost his breath, exhaling once.
The cold fingers dug deep into his powerful organ, and he didn’t taste victory—he tasted fear. Fear clogged his throat, blood swarming his mouth until it overflowed.
No…I can’t—I can’t—
Fallen ripped his heart from his chest in one single thrust.
I can’t lose…
Tensley dropped him and staggered.
Black spots filtered through his vision, the noise around him muted except for a scream of pain. Dizziness spun his world—the white marble floor splattered with redness, the hazy figures of a screaming crowd, a hollowness in his chest.
He heard one scream in the assembly, louder than all the others. And he instinctively knew who it had come from.
Bright pain, then destructive numbness spread like a fever through his entire body.
He was falling, his legs giving out.
He searched the crowd, but his vision was fading fast.
A blessing stayed on his tongue. A single word, but all he could think of was how empty he felt.
He searched again—searching for that one single thing to hold him here, to keep him safe, but it was too late.
He had fallen.
Words echoed—for the last time in his mind.
Words slowly fading to a deafening darkness.
He struggled, he fought, but it was too late.
My court, my crown, my queen.
Molly.
And he drowned in darkness.