4

I was merely the king's fucktoy; a prize he'd won from the Morima Kingdom.

"So good," he groaned, causing the crowd to roar in excitement.

He leaned forward and yanked me back by my hair, revealing my face to everyone in the room, completing my humiliation.

Lecherous gazes filled my vision. Some even appeared excited, as if the king might share. I etched each person into my memory. Memorized every smile and derogatory comment. Because one day I'd rise above this. What other choice did I have?

A dream, perhaps.

But in that moment, I considered it my life goal.

Necros shoved into me one final time and vibrated with his pleasure. Thick ropes of his hot essence coated my insides, his goal of producing an heir evident. It wasn't until his final groan—long and guttural, that he finally released my hair, allowing me to fall to the bed once more.

He withdrew sharply, eliciting a shriek of pain I couldn't swallow in time.

Chuckles followed. All underscored in evil.

I hate it here...

"My bedded wife," Necros announced. "Welcome your queen, people of Winsorer." He punctuated the words with a slap against my still-exposed ass, eliciting congratulatory cheers around the room.

I shivered from the exposure, my heart in my throat as I prayed to the deities above that this hell would soon end. Warm voices, glances that felt like strokes, and words were exchanged while I remained hidden. Until eventually the voices softened to nonexistence, leaving me.

Still, I couldn't move.

My thighs ached.

My insides screaming from the violation.

This was my duty, my purpose, but did it have to hurt so very much?

Happy fucking birthday, my conscious whispered cruelly. I supposed it was a fitting introduction to womanhood.

More tears fell, my shoulders shaking from the onslaught of varying emotions. Anger at my parents and my people. Fear of my husband and my future with him. Agony at what I'd just endured.

And an odd inkling of hope sparking from deep within, in that secret place I never told anyone else about.

I stroked the power hiding there, longing for it to be released and not knowing how at the same time.

One day, it seemed to promise. One day soon.

Maybe it was just my imagination, a coping mechanism to accept such a fate.

Or perhaps it was something so much more.

I called upon that inner strength, begging it to heal my damaged heart and soul. But it remained softly whispering, cooing promises of a future I could only dream about.

Soon, My Queen. Soon.

I sipped the bourbon with a sigh, relaxing into my favorite chair. "Have I told you recently how much I love you?"

Grigory snorted. "Don't tell me you're drunk already."

"Hardly." I took another calming swallow, luxuriating in the crisp flavor unavailable in the Underworld. "This is making me nostalgic." I'd spent most of last year on Earth, mostly to cultivate my more deadly talents. But I'd taken a few moments to enjoy the pleasures of life up there, including indulging in the finer bourbons of the realm.

"I thought it'd be a good farewell gift before you run off to commit suicide tomorrow," he replied, his broad face lighting up with a grin. "I wanted to bring a few humans back with me, but my mother denied the request."

"Suicide," I repeated, ignoring that last bit. Grigory enjoyed mortal company. I preferred succubi. "When I reclaim my throne, remind me not to bring you onto my council."

The big man covered his heart. "What? But I thought you loved me, Adrik?"

"Bring me more bourbon, and we'll discuss it."

"Assuming you don't die tomorrow."

I finished the contents of my drink and poured myself another. "You know, I'm starting to think you're worried about me, G."

"You're attending the infamous Winsorer Ball. Anyone with intelligence would be worried." He scratched the scruff dotting his square jaw. "Actually, no. Intelligent demons wouldn't attend in the first place."

My lips twitched. "Good thing I'm not a demon." Not in the traditional sense, anyway. I commanded the shadows of the Underworld, the pissed-off spirits in limbo. It made me a welcome entity in this realm, but not necessarily demonic.

He grunted. "Too right." He picked up his wine glass and swirled the bloody contents before downing it all in one go. Almost as if to remind me that he, too, wasn't a traditional demon. Not like Lucifer's hellhounds and minions.

I sighed, my head falling back against the padded cushion of my chair. "Necros isn't a demon, either," I pointed out, again thinking about my plan. "Just King of the Dead." And archenemy to the Shadow Kingdom he'd destroyed many years ago.

***

Sarai

My kingdom.

I ran my hand over my face and finished my second drink, not bothering to fill it again. The last thing I needed was to be hungover tomorrow.

Winsorer would fall. I just had to play my cards right, which included indulging the king in his fucked-up games. He wanted to break his queen. Fine. I'd happily help in that endeavor. But unlike all the other contenders lined up for tomorrow night, I knew the score.

Queen Olga possessed a valuable entity inside her, one I intended to steal for myself and use to destroy the King of the Dead.

"Let me come with you," Grigory said, not for the first time. "You know I'm the better fighter between us."

I laughed. "You beat me once and that makes you my better?"

"Twice," he corrected. "And fuck yes. Now bow."

"Fuck you." The words lacked heat, as they always did. "And no, you're staying here. The last thing I need is to piss off your mother."

"Ugh, that woman is such a buzzkill." He stretched out on my couch, legs crossed at the ankles, his eyes falling closed.

"I heard that," a feminine voice said, entering without knocking.

"I know," he replied, not bothering to glance or formally acknowledge the approaching woman.

Lux, Queen of the Vera Kingdom.

Otherwise known as Grigory's mother.

"Your Highness," I greeted, nodding in respect. Most would be on the floor, bowing. But she and I had a different sort of relationship, one that had me viewing her more in a maternal manner rather than a royal one.

She had, after all, raised me as her own.

"You boys are always causing me problems," she said, picking up the bottle of bourbon from the table. Rather than pour herself a glass, she stole a sip from the rim and shuddered. "Rubbish."

"Liquid gold," I corrected.

She scoffed at that. "I thought I raised you better than that, Adrik." She cocked her head to the side in a chastising way while also grinning down at me. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"No," Grigory cut in, still not looking at his mother. They both resembled night, with their dark hair and eyes, their skin as pale as the moon. Fitting for their vampire heritage, I supposed. As I possessed similar traits, it'd be easy for Lux to adopt me into the fold. However, I never called her Mother, nor did she ever ask me to.

"You're sending my brother off to his death," Grigory added humorously.

Jackass. "Your faith in me is heartwarming," I deadpanned.