TENSLEY WIPED THE red that was painted on his hand against his pant leg, marching down the Plaza hallway. Golden trim glistened in the lighting, classic and timeless. Tensley, tried and failed to calm himself, to steady his breathing, but his beast was raging.
After torturing a traitor to death, his next move was the King himself.
Once he stopped in front of the large bronze double doors of The Royal Suite, he poised himself.
Be vicious, be deadly, and the beast won’t back down.
With Evelyn’s voice and face in mind, he knocked once. Blunt and loud.
The door swung open, and he wasn’t surprised to see one of Fallen’s soldiers. Although each soldier in this realm wore a fitted dark suit, finely tailored, it was their bodies beneath the rich material that made Tensley approach with caution. Bodies formed for battle, for hardship, and brutal pain. These demons were born as soldiers, trained since infancy, no affection—none existed in their lives. They were the true beasts of the High Court—ruthless, their lives didn’t matter, but the king’s did, and they’d fight to the death to protect their ruler.
“I’m here to see Lord Fallen,” Tensley demanded as the soldier sized him up.
“Mr. Knight,” Fallen’s voice carried to the door. “Come in.”
The soldier’s expression never changed from one of indifference, but he moved aside.
The soldier may have not seen him as a threat, but he had the kiss of a goddess on his lips, her fingertips burnt into his flesh and muscles, and he was fucking lethal.
Tensley strolled into the suite, a suite lavished by copper and golds, a rich dark brown couch of suede beside a crown-molded fireplace. Fallen sat on an upholstered chair, trimmed with a gold design of roses and thorns.
“This is the King’s guard,” Fallen added, gesturing the guard behind Tensley. “Seto—he was bred to be a soldier. I took him under my wing, and when he defeated my own personal guard, I awarded him with becoming the King’s guard. There’s not a gentle bone in this one’s body, and I like my men like that.”
Tensley glanced at the King’s guard—dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail, his nose crooked and a large ugly pink scar across the bridge. His eyes were dark and deep, watching Tensley’s every move. He noted the thick blade at his side, but his hands were clasped in front of them. Tensley guessed he was fast though, and would be able to slice him if he acted out of line.
“This is unexpected,” Fallen said and leaned back, flashing his crooked, sharp teeth. “Sit down.”
Tensley stood, unmoving. His pointed stare, directed at his king told Fallen enough. He wouldn’t be bullied into submission. He’d respect the king, but he wouldn’t bow.
“The bargain,” Tensley began, pausing, testing how much control he could blister into his king.
Fallen rested his cheek on his hand and raised a brow. “Yes?”
“I will agree to serve you at High Court,” he said, slowly, “only if it means I won’t be losing my position as Dux of Scorpios in the process.”
Fallen’s shoulders stiffened for a fraction of a second and then he shifted forward. “I heard your father was poisoned.”
Tensley’s jaw clenched. Of course, the news would spread like wildfire and come to Fallen’s very door.
“And I want the bastards who did this to pay,” Tensley said, voice sharp.
Fallen stared back at Tensley, watching for a moment of weakness, for the man to fall and crumple, but Tensley stood, his back as a rod of steel.
Fallen’s eyes rested on Tensley’s fisted bloodied hands and he smiled. “It seems you made the bastard pay already.”
Tensley stepped forward and he heard the guard behind him shift closer.
Fallen raised a hand to tell the guard to stand down.
“I want Ares destroyed,” Tensley hissed, bearing his teeth. “And I want their territory. Grant me this, and I’ll serve you. Blood and sweat.”
Fallen tapped his finger on his dimpled chin, eyeing Tensley’s bloody hands. Hands of power, hands of war.
“Very well,” Fallen said after a long pause and stood. “Ares will be no longer. Their council will be disbanded and any bastard choosing to keep their neck and pledge loyalty to Scorpios will be sent to you. Be this a lesson, Mr. Knight. I’d rather keep my court, my people happy than withhold them their desires. In return, I expect your unwavering loyalty to the court and me.” He poured himself a finger of whisky, the dark oak color and lifted it to his mouth. “I’ll summon you and your bride to the court when I see fit.”
Tensley nodded, hoping Fallen noticed he didn’t bow as he turned to leave.
That sinister voice had one last thing to say. “Be prepared, Mr. Knight. I might assign you as commander of my army. High positions come with great danger.”
Tensley halted, his back muscles tensing.
“My army needs a vicious beast, and I think I’ve found the perfect one.”
Tensley bit back an insult, and left, loosening his tie around his neck, aching to breathe without the heavy weight on his chest. In his chest. Fucking thumping for the dolcezza.
Scorpios was his, Molly was his, but he had just sold himself to a king bent on destroying him.
THE CEREMONY was set for the next day. Molly spent the day with Donovan. In the chaos of preparing Tensley’s ceremony of transiting to the Dux, every single soldier, every single-family member rushed around the townhouse. Poor Donovan was forgotten, so Molly made it her goal to keep him company.
Molly and Tensley had stayed the night at the townhouse, and when she woke the next day, he was already gone.
Probably best as she vomited again. Fear gripped her chest and stomach, and all day she thought of how to tell him. With so much going on, she couldn’t tell him now. Not when he was struggling with his father’s coma and him stepping up as Dux. When they went to bed the night before, he was distant, but she didn’t blame him. He didn’t need to say anything. She could feel the fear, the anger, the anxiety rolling off him. He had so much storming his mind, and she knew if she were carrying more chaos, it’d be too much.
“Donovan,” Gabriella said as she walked into the kitchen, scowling at the little boy’s legs dangling off the counter. “You need to get ready.”
“Molly will help me,” Donovan insisted, tugging at her pinkie, chocolate sauce all over his mouth.
“No.” Gabriella’s words sliced through the air, and the staff around them bowed their heads and continued working. “Come here. Now.”
Molly smiled at Donovan and picked him up, placing him back on the floor. “Go get ready. I’ll see you soon.”
Donovan rushed to his mother and took her hand. Molly didn’t miss the sour look Gabriella gave her. With demon culture, they were very strict on affection toward others. Molly knew she was maybe too affectionate with him, but his eyes lit up and his lopsided grin warmed her heart when she hugged him or told him he was the best runner she had ever seen.
Molly turned into the hallway, thinking she too needed to get ready before the ceremony. Perhaps, Tensley would be back.
“Molly.”
Molly glanced over her shoulder to see Daphne, Tensley’s mother. Her welcoming brown eyes were heavy and dark, no longer filled with ease and happiness.
“May I steal you away for a moment?” Even then, Daphne forced a kind smile that crushed Molly’s heart.
Her husband was in a coma, uncertain if and when he would wake up.
“Of course,” she said and followed her to Mr. Knight’s office, soon to be Tensley’s office.
The strong wood beams ran across the high ceilings. Built in bookcases sat on either side of the giant oak desk and the large windows looking out on Fifth Avenue spilled light into its shadows.
Daphne glanced at her husband’s leather chair and the untouched litter of papers on his desk. She sucked in a deep breath and paced in front of the desk.
“When I was seventeen, I married Tensley’s father,” Daphne said, toying with her necklace of pearls. “We had only met a few times before, but I was honored to be chosen as the Dux’s bride.” She stopped pacing and faced Molly, her features worn. “He had just been crowned the new Dux. He was older, wiser, crueler. But he promised me that family came first. That I would never fear my family’s safety, or fear that we would go hungry. He is—was,” she paused, catching her breath. The words slicing deep. “He was cold and cruel, but never to me. He gave me power, he gave me confidence, and he gave me my family.”
Molly stood still, holding her breath as Daphne spoke, tears in her doe brown eyes. Family. Her hand ached to touch her stomach, thinking of the possibility of Daphne’s grandchild growing inside of her
“The Dux is the blade, we—” Daphne gestured to Molly. “—are the hand that wields them. You must support my son. He needs you more than ever now.”
Molly’s throat grew thick and she nodded. “I won’t let anything happen to your son.”
A few tears escaped Daphne’s eyes, and she wiped them away with two fingertips. She shakily smiled at Molly, moving to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”
Molly again nodded, too afraid to speak—too afraid she’d vomit on Daphne’s Gucci shoes.