TENSLEY’S WORLD cracked down the middle, edges rigid and sharp, his insides twisting painfully tight.
Another daemon?
He gawked at the king, the beast able to say who lived and who died under his hand, under his crooked thumb.
“That’s impossible,” Tensley hissed, a deep frown etched between his brows. “There hasn’t been a daemon in over three hundred years.”
Fallen laughed bitterly, the sound like sandpaper to Tensley’s ears.
“Do you really believe your precious little bride is the only one out there? She may be charming to look at, but she was never unique. Only a fool would have believed that,” he said, voice vicious, cutting deeper into Tensley’s throbbing chest. “And with the offense she has now committed against one of our own, it does look like she will not be alive for much longer.”
“I killed Pearce when he threatened to take her,” Tensley fought, the thought of Molly in the hands of this monster sending him into a fit of rage. “Molly has nothing to do with this.”
Fallen stayed silent for a beat, analyzing Tensley’s words. “Killing another demon, Mr. Knight, is a crime in our court.”
“I am well aware of that fact and will take full responsibility for my actions,” Tensley bit out and shook his head before he swore at the King.
Punishment be damned, he’d protect his dolcezza from any beast.
Fallen tapped his finger against the oak desk, slowly. Thump, thump, thump. “I’ll make you a deal. Come to the High Court and serve me as a high class member, and I will overlook this or,” the tapping stopped and a finger of dread sliced down Tensley’s spine, “you can gladly watch me brutally devour your bride for murdering a demon.”
Tensley ached to scream, to fight back, but he kept his features composed.
His dolcezza, just like that, was a mere disposable object to the High Court. She wasn’t protected by what she was any longer. She was in danger.
“Fine,” he said coolly, but the anger stirred inside of him like lava.
Fallen grinned. “I’m happy to hear that. I’ve always enjoyed your ruthlessness, Tensley. I need a man like you by my side. You could bring your bride with you, I suppose. One can’t leave such a vulnerable thing alone amongst wolves.” He laughed softly at himself and stood, stretching out his tailored suit.
Tensley simply stared back, biting his tongue from swearing at the king.
“Come to the Fall Solstice. I’ll introduce you to the Court. There will be a hunt I’m sure you will enjoy.” He stood, buttoning his pressed black Armani suit of death, darkness, and style. “Oh, and if you need anything, Mr. Knight, I’ll be staying at the Plaza for the next few weeks.”
Fallen left, but the darkness expanding in Tensley’s chest didn’t. Tensley didn’t bother to watch him go, his pulse like a jackrabbit.
Molly wasn’t the only daemon.
Fallen had found another one.
“Tensley,” his father’s crisp voice jerked him out of his thoughts, and he slowly turned to face him. “What did he say?”
Tensley collected his rage and rolled his shoulders back. “He requested for me to serve him at High Court.”
Mr. Knight’s brows lifted, but he cleared his throat. “A Knight back at Court…”
It was the tone of his father’s voice, the amazement he could clearly detect in his words that took Tensley by surprise. His father was proud of him. After all these years, after all the times he had tried and failed, his father was finally proud of him. And Tensley didn’t even care anymore.
“I’ll have to tell the council,” Mr. Knight said, his voice distant to Tensley’s throbbing eardrums. “Tensley…” His father took a painful deep breath, not calm, not strong, but weak.
Tensley glanced up at him.
“After your brother’s scandal, we fell from grace in the court’s eyes. For years, I’ve tried to keep our family name strong and fierce. I could only hope the daemon would erase your brother’s mistake. You have the chance to make us powerful again. Make us feared in the High Court.” His father’s hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed, his dark eyes watching Tensley’s features.
Tensley nodded, until his father left his office.
The laughter and chatter from beyond his office grated his nerves, losing any patience for anyone else. He needed peace. He needed to find a solution, an escape.
He swung the door open and didn’t bother stopping when a few men tried to speak to him. His beast was restless, aching for that one soul out of reach.
Fifth Avenue was packed under the glow of street lamps, and he swore if one human touched him, he’d snap like the monster he was.
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and fumbled with his cigarettes. He lit the bud and took one long drag, hoping to take the edge off. Freshly rained, the sidewalks were darkened with wetness, the smog easier to taste in the air. The Callery pear trees shaded him, the tiny white petals floating onto the cement. They left behind a thick bitter scent in the air, even though they looked so sweet.
Briskly walking in the dark of Manhattan didn’t relieve him, though.
“Fuck it,” he hissed and yanked his phone out, his fingers shaking as he dialed that precious number. Just to hear her soft voice—it would help him stay leveled.
It rang, and rang, and rang—until that addictive hum rang instead.
“Tensley?” Velvety softness swam through on the other end of the call, and he held his breath. “Is everything all right?”
He closed his eyes, enthralled in her, the beast relaxing.
“Tensley?”
It was then he noted how husky her voice was—how muffled it was and it dawned on him.
Time difference.
“Fuck,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’ll call you tomorrow—”
“No, no! It’s fine,” she whispered loudly, and when a small mewl left her, he clenched his jaw. “We haven’t talked for days.”
A week and six days…
He scowled at himself.
“I didn’t want to distract you,” he told her, walking across the one-way street. Or distract me.
“You’re always a welcomed distraction.” He could tell by her teasing voice she was smiling, and he imagined that adorable dimple appearing. God, he wanted to lick it. “Are you in bed?”
Tensley took a drag from his cigarette and listened to the clank of his footfalls on the wet pavement. “I just left the office. Its only ten here.” Which would make it around three a.m. in Paris. Which meant she was in bed.
Fuck.
The image of her sprawled across a comfy bed in one of her silky nightgowns made him painfully hard. He cleared his throat. “How’s everything in Paris? You enjoying it?”
“Hmm,” she whispered, and it sounded like she shifted against her pillows. “I like it. I haven’t seen as much as of the city as I would like, but I love the museum. It’s just long hours. I left the museum at midnight and just came back here while everyone else went out.”
“Maybe you should go out with them,” he suggested hesitantly. He didn’t like the idea of her at bars with drunken men, but he trusted her, and he didn’t want her to miss out on any experiences.
“Is it sad I’d rather sleep?” She laughed into the phone, and he couldn’t fight the quirking of his lips. That laugh, that sweetness, he wanted to drown in it. “You’re engaged to an eighty-year-old woman.”
He smirked. His chest warmed at her mentioning the engagement. “Sleep while you can, dolcezza. You’re going to need it once you’re back in my bed.”
The laugh was soft, and he knew she was tired, but he couldn’t bring himself to hang-up just yet. Just to know she was on the other end, listening. “Do you want me to speak Italian? Would that help you sleep?”
“Tensley,” she whispered, and he heard her rearrange the phone to her ear, her breath heavy.
“La mia bella sposa,” he whispered back, his accent thick and heavy, and he imagined her lashes fluttering shut over his spell. “Sei bagnato?” His raspy voice drew a moan from her.
“What did you just say?”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “If I tell you, you won’t go back to sleep.”
“Oh?”
He licked his lips, hungry for her. “Are you wet, dolcezza?”
“Tensley,” she gasped.
A beat of silence.
“Well, are you?”
“You’re smiling,” she said panicking, but laughter slipped from her voice.
He laughed heartily. “A shit-eating grin with a mouth that’d love to devour you.” He felt drunk off their playful banter. “And you’re blushing, sweetheart.”
“Ugh,” she groaned into the phone, and he pictured her covering her face.
“Now, la mia bella,” he paused, taking one final drag and flicking the butt to the pavement, “I’m only going to ask again—are you wet for me?”
“Yes.”
God, he wished she hadn’t gone to Paris. Damn it. Three weeks without seeing her, touching her, was painful.
“Good,” he said, lowly and nodded. “Now go back to bed.” He went to hang up, but she spoke fast.
“Tensley,” she said, and a slow sigh fell from her lips and into his thumping chest. “I miss you.”
He gripped the phone tighter, gawking at his oxford dress shoes and the cigarette steaming. He thought of Fallen, of the High Court and how much danger surrounded his lioness. He’d rip any beast limb from limb to protect her. He’d present her severed heads if he had to. She was his queen, his only.
“Mi manchi, dolcezza,” he said, his voice thick and laced with too much emotion to hold within a heartless beast.
“Just five more days, and I’ll be back,” she said.
Five more fucking days. “I’ll be counting.”
He hung up, his hand dropping to his side, but everything was loaded into his being. Her addictive voice, her words, and how they had snuck deep inside of him, taken root without his permission.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
“Fuck this,” he snapped and stomped on the cigarette, turning the opposite direction from his apartment.
He’d show her exactly how much the beast missed her.