MOLLY’S HEART shattered. Piece by piece, she felt her heart crumble to nothingness at the sight of Tensley’s lifeless body on the marble floor, at the sight of Fallen swallowing his black-red heart and licking the bright blood from each of his thin fingers. She heard Fallen’s spine crack, the bones realigning, twisting his back as he stood in sickening triumph over Tensley’s corpse.
His corpse that had stood in front of her and promised—promised they’d leave together. The man who vowed to protect her, vowed to protect her son—
Her throat clogged in raw pain.
Molly clutched her stomach, blinking back the hotness piercing her eyes. She had his heart, that iron precious heart, and now he was empty. That suffocating emptiness spread through her like poison.
Her hands slackened at her side. Memories flashed, one after the other blurs of colors and words. His words. His husky, warm tone of velvet and steel.
Fear nipped at her throat, anger boiled in her veins, and shock took her senses.
Horror vibrated in her chest, coating each rib, each lung so she couldn’t breathe without the pinch of pain—of the reminder.
Each breaking breath, she uttered his name. A call, a plea, a cry, but Tensley didn’t move—his open dark eyes stared blankly back at her. All she wanted to do was to collapse, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t collapse.
Not when every single eye watched her in the court. They wanted her to cry, and they wanted to see the daemon bow. If one single tear fell, the rest would follow in an unbroken stream.
Fallen kicked at Tensley’s lifeless hand and that twisted the knife deeper into Molly’s chest.
Anger surged like lightning, like a spark and gasoline, and she wanted to destroy him. She didn’t care if he were the king—she would burn him down.
“Bow to your king,” Lilith ordered from the sidelines, gesturing for the room to lower, her dress a violent red—reflecting war and the blood of their victims.
Red, like Tensley’s blood as it poured down his front through the gaping hole in his chest.
Red, like Molly’s raging wrath as it ravaged everything inside of her, taking complete control.
Every single member of the court bowed to their knees, some even lower to lie flat on the ground in utter fear of their king.
So terrified, Molly could almost taste it on her tongue.
Molly didn’t move, still as steel, unflinching as the king and his queen’s eyes fell upon her. Like a forgotten star.
“Ah, the daemon,” Fallen said, smacking his lips.
At the hoarse sound of Fallen’s voice, the anger in her veins exploded, scorching all nerve ends, all emotions, until she was deadly embers.
Lilith stepped forward, an ugly scowl across her face. “Bow to your king, ungrateful whore,” Lilith snapped, a wave of those powerful pheromones hitting Molly’s skin.
Molly glared back at them.
Fallen’s head fell, a dark laugh filling the silent hall. “My dear daemon, you do not wish to follow in your husband’s footsteps.” He took smalls steps toward her, his bloody hands a sight that made her stomach twist inward. “We do not want to waste you, do we?” He shook his head, each step closer making her stomach drop, but her anger burned deeper. “And certainly, we do not want to waste that precious babe growing inside of you. You both foolishly believed you outdid the king, the king of demons, the god of all of you?”
Molly glanced to the side to see the prince standing, his grip on the handle of his sword—as if waiting for the king to threaten her as if he would protect her.
She didn’t need protection. It was the whole court that needed to be shielded from her. She could feel the icy sensation building to a painful degree behind her eyes and the tingle in her spine, her fingers shaking from anger.
Her eyes flew back to Fallen now that he stood right in front of her, and she stared up at him.
“Let your knees kiss the floor in front of me, my daemon, and bow to your king,” Fallen commanded, his chin hiked up, a challenge in his gaze. When she didn’t budge, Fallen’s nose wrinkled, his features bruised and bloody, but he wore it with grace, with pride. “I am your king, and you will heal what your husband did to me.” He lifted his hand out to her, but she didn’t touch it, she didn’t even look down at it.
“You are not my king,” Molly hissed, calmly, fiercely, and her eyes shone, stunning him, and she struck, her claws digging deep into his cheek.
He roared, swinging his head back, but soldiers gripped her biceps, preventing her from harming their mighty king.
Fallen rolled his head and watched his eyes darken, his cheek flexing along with the ugly red trails.
Anger stormed Fallen’s eyes, his mouth pulling back to reveal his wicked bloodstained teeth as he snarled at her. It vibrated against her skin and to her core, but she didn’t shudder.
She didn’t cower.
“You will bow,” Fallen snapped, and his hand slashed across her cheek and ear.
Her head whipped to the side, her body staggering after. Her eardrums rang and her cheek burned from the hit.
She licked at her cut lip and glared up at Fallen.
“I am the daemon, and I will bow to no one,” she said, her voice venom and iron and everything wicked, scowling.
Fallen grinned widely. “I’ll harm everyone you have ever cared about. And make you watch as I rip their hearts out.”
A finger of dread rolled down her spine, and she swallowed thickly. She felt her mask crack, and she saw the moment Fallen noted it.
“Would you like to taste?” Fallen asked, gripping Molly’s hair and yanking her forward, so her eyes were leveled with his bloody hands—blood of Tensley.
She blinked back the hotness piercing her eyes and ignored the acid rising in her throat.
“He tasted sweet—too sweet—from your corruption, I am sure,” Fallen murmured, and he arched her chin with his single finger, staring down onto her trembling lips. “Bow to your king, or you will get down on your knees for him tonight in his chambers.”
Molly felt the color drain from her features, and the court now stood, eyeing the scene before them.
“Bow or I’ll make you,” Lilith said, edging closer, her hands fisted on either side of her gown. “Bow!” Her loud voice rattled the paintings and chandelier above them.
Molly ripped her chin out of his grasp and tried to step back, but the guards gripped her shoulders and forced her to her knees.
She huffed in pain as her knees slammed against the white marble floor.
“What will you do, daemon? You have no protector, no lover—you are all alone, defenseless, in this world of wolves and hungry monsters. Do you think your kiss would make him strong enough to destroy me? Did you think you were enough?” He laughed, shaking his head, and again invading her space. “Perhaps, but he didn’t know how to wield your power. You do not give—you take it.”
Fallen’s fingers bit into her jaw, and he opened his mouth—but a deep, angry growl echoed the dining hall and stalled his movement.
Fallen glanced over his shoulder—and he hissed as Tensley appeared behind him, clutched his neck in a death grip and lifted him off of his feet.
Fallen clawed at Tensley’s single hand, gasping in panic and pain. “How dare you! I am your—”
—snap.
Words caught in Fallen’s throat and he crumbled, collapsing onto the marble floor with a loud thud.
Silence fell.
Molly gaped at Fallen’s dead body, and then looked up at Tensley, tears of joy clouding her vision until she laid eyes on him.
She shook her head slowly.
She thought he was dead.
She thought Fallen had killed him.
But he was there, standing in front of her.
It didn’t take long, however, for her to realize it wasn’t truly him in front of her.
Shards of her heart sliced deeper.
“Tensley,” she spoke softly, wetness beading her lashes. She bit her wobbling lip. She wanted to touch him, to hold him, to kiss him.
Everything came crashing down, layer upon layer, shattering and breaking and crumbling as she gazed at Tensley.
Her eyes snapped to his bloody chest, the hole healed.
The viciousness in his dark eyes, the harshness to his sharp features, and no kindness. There was no Tensley hiding behind the features of the man.
Only the beast.
Her breaths came out fast and painful, unable to process completely who was before her.
“No,” she whispered, gently shaking her head as tears spilled down her pale cheeks. “No.”
Tensley didn’t react, he simply stared coldly back, his head tilted upward in power, in strength, in authority.
“No, this can’t be,” Lilith said, rushing toward Fallen’s corpse, her shoes clacking against the marble floor. She dropped to her knees and touched his cheek only to jerk back and swallow. Her hands hovered above his face, too afraid to touch him, too in shock to do anything but gape at him. She fisted her hands and took a deep breath that only the court heard. She stood her chest heaving with rage and glared at Tensley. “You killed him. You killed the king, you bastard. You will die for this crime.” She gestured to the guards. “Seize him.”
The guards didn’t move, though. They stared back at Tensley, a battle to follow their queen or the demon who had slain their king.
The faintest of whispers filled the room, but when Tensley finally moved, simply a foot to face Lilith, silence took over.
Lilith turned to her son, her hands shaking in a panic. “Do something!” The prince’s expression was pinched tight in anger, his jaw working under his iron clench. “Kill him!” she commanded to her son.
“I am the king,” Tensley’s voice was too harsh, too cold that it sent a fury of shivers across Molly’s skin. So familiar, yet foreign to her burning ears. “And you will obey.” His aggressive pheromones wrapped around each member of the court, a taste of wrath, a pinch of a threat, and everyone cowered. Molly felt the sting of anger clasp around her throat and tighten, and she shook it off to no relief.
Tensley continued forward, his haunting obsidian eyes challenging Lilith’s glare until the aggressive pheromones destroyed her defenses. Lilith growled in pain, her back arching in physical ache, in submission, and slowly, bowed to her knees. Sweat gathered on her brow as she caught her breath. As she glared up at Tensley for a second, Tensley hissed at her defiance, and she cried out in pain, his power assaulting her every bone, every inch of her trembling body, and she lowered her head in defeat.
But Tensley didn’t stop. His nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened even further. Lilith cried out, and the marble beneath her knees and hands cracked from Tensley’s wrath on her body.
“Bow,” he hissed.
Gasps of shock and terror echoed in the court at the sight of their queen bowing to Tensley.
“Murder the crown,” one of the lords spoke, voice hoarse and low. It rumbled in the court, and his words thundered in Molly’s chest. “Marry the crown.”
Her eyes swung back to Tensley.
King.
He was the new king of the High Court.
Of the demons.
No.
Her stomach dropped into a dark pit, and her knees shook, threatening to collapse. King of the demons.
One look and his wrath stormed the court, and one by one, they bowed, falling to their knees, their heads lowered in fear, in submission.
Murder the crown, marry the crown, she repeated frantically in her head.
Molly couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe properly as she gawked at the man—bloody and bruised from head to toe, sporting an ugly black eye and a broken nose, and red-stained lips she used to kiss goodnight and good morning. The man capable of making the High Court bow as he pleased.
“Tensley,” she whispered, tearfully, begging for him to chant her name back as he did when he was inside of her, when he was smiling at her, and to catch a glimpse at the man who had told her he loved her that very same day. He turned to look at her, but he only wore an impassive stare of indifference. “Tensley,” she tried again, but his eyes only narrowed at her.
The man she loved was well and truly gone.
The man who had said he loved her.
Lilith stayed low to the ground, her eyes drilling holes into the two of them, and the prince lowered, his chest heaving in anger.
Tensley had murdered the king.
Tensley had taken the crown.
Tensley was king.
But he wasn’t her Tensley.
The death of Tensley Knight and the rebirth of the beast.
His bloody hand touched her wet cheek, and then, her parted lips, smearing his blood and the king’s blood across her skin. She trembled.
An act of possession.
Of territoriality.
Not an act of love.
Or recognition.
His hand swept across her stomach—their unborn son.
Slowly, shaking terribly, she bowed her head, her eyes never parting from his cool ones. Something inside of her fractured so completely, a clean tear down the middle of her heart that would never repair itself. Her hands felt like iron, too heavy, too weak to lift them.
He frowned at her, the line of his jaw shaking as he clenched it.
She tried, again and again, desperately trying to find but a glimmer of the man he previously was, but it was in vain. All she saw was the beast. No gleam in those lethal eyes. Molly looked into the eyes of sullen darkness, dead, loveless eyes that hours ago shined.
Tensley Knight was dead, and in his place was a noxious beast.