But … never like this. Before a full audience, and in broad daylight. My stomach clenched in fear, even as my core tightened.
If you want to starve your akadim,Aemon’s hand wrapped around my neck and he squeezed,at least give them a meal to look at.His boot stomped down suddenly by my foot, catching the hem of my dress. It fluttered to the ground leaving me completely naked except for my cloak and crown. I could feel a flush of heat running from my neck to my chest, even as a shock of desire cut through my humiliation.
Aemon? What are you doing?
Come on, kitten. I know you like this. And it has to be done. You can’t tease an army of beasts like you did, and leave things unfinished.He unbuckled his belt, and began to lift my cloak from behind.Plus, don’t forget you owe me. You got to keep the strongest akadim as your Arkturion. I allowed you to keep Rhyan Hart.
Allowed?I seethed.He’s mine! I bargained for him! Because I gave you your—I buried the thought behind my mental walls, covering it with onyx stone as I drew his hand from behind me between my legs.
Even if I had wanted to fight back, there was no way I could. Not when he was still radiating with the power ofRakashonim.Not when he was a living God. And despite it all, I was soaked. Some dark part of me wanted this. Liked the humiliation. Liked being desired.
You’re right,I thought,you did give me what I wanted. So do it then. Fuck me. Fuck your queen. Right here, before our court.I pulled off my cloak, the only remnant of modesty that remained, and let it meet the rest of my garments on the ground. Now I only wore my crown. From my peripheral vision, I eyed my shield, seeing its orange light rise to meet the sun.Let them watch. Let them worship us like they used to before the Drowning. But …
His cock was thick and heavy against my bare ass, as he leaned me forward, arching my back so he could enter. A pulse built between my legs, and my heart thundered.
The akadim were clapping now, howling into the sky, their control teetering on exploding. Their collars seemed to crackle as if they were struggling to keep them bound. But now that they knew what happened, that disobedience would result in the loss of their heads—either by the hands of Rhyan, or Aemon—they remained compliant.
But what?Aemon thought.
But when I collect the next shard, and I bring it to you, I want one thing in return.My fingers wrapped around his cock, sliding his length between my folds, coating him in my wetness, in the proof I was going along with this. That I was not just allowing, but wanting.
He grunted, slapping my hand away, and kicked my legs even further apart. He positioned himself at my entrance, and gripped my hip, his fingers digging into me.
Name it, kitten. Name your price.
After the next shard is claimed, I never want to see Parthenay again.
Done.He slammed inside of me.
Chapter
Eleven
TRISTAN
“Head up,” the Bastardmaker barked.
A sharp pain started in my stomach, its intensity matching the ache in my broken hand as I walked beside him through Cresthaven’s Great Hall. Every step more painful than the last.
“I said, headup, Lord Tristan,” he sneered.
I obeyed, and the pain stopped. Fucking blood contract.
“Now, shoulders back,” he commanded.
I did that, too.
“Walk on your toes like a dancer.”
I lifted my heels, my teeth clenching, but he only laughed.
“For fuck’s sake. I was kidding. Walk like a man.” My heels went down.
He led me up the stairs of Bamaria’s fortress. We’d just arrived as the clock tower announced midnight. Twenty-four hours since Galen was—since he?—
“But wipe that Godsdamned look off your face. Or forget prancing, I’ll make you crawl back to your room.”
“Yes, Arkturion,” I said blandly, schooling my face to neutral, to the mask I’d been taught to wear since I was a boy. The disaffected mask of a nobleman, of a Lord of Ka Grey.
