I grit my teeth together, walking deeper into the rows of hedges and flowers. She could try. Same as that mage bastard, Flynn. I’ll slice them down and make Rhea watch as I do it. I’ll make her kneel in their blood to remind her that there is no one in this world who could love her as I do. Who could make her as powerful as I can, even with the magic flowing in her veins.
My cock grows hard at the thought of her drenched in crimson, and my vision blurs as the fantasies of bloodshed and rage dance through my mind. The noise of flesh on stone sends birds flying from their perches as I pummel my fist into a carved bench tucked between the flowers. I don’t stop when I see the first smattering of my blood. I don’t stop when the pain begins to leak into my consciousness. No, I wait until I see the vision of Flynn’s face smashed beneath me, nothing but a mangled mess of brain matter, blood, and broken bone.
Falling to my knees, I cradle my throbbing hand while I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing. Each inhale erases the smells of the dungeon below, replacing them with the fragrance of iron mixing with the flowers—heady rose and delicate jasmine. And lilies. I breathe in deeply again—the rage simmering to the background where it lingers, waiting to be unleashed once more.Lilies.Standing, I stroll out of the garden and shout to the guards to find Simon.
“The women are lined up in your chambers, Your Majesty,” Simon says from where he walks behind me as we leave another Royal Council meeting, the men in attendance ignoring Paul’s absence.
“Ready the Mirror in the throne room. When I’m finished, I’ll meet you there.”
He says nothing but dips his chin in response, breaking away from me to stride down an adjacent hallway. I’ve resisted reaching out for help, but it can’t be avoided now. The longer Rhea is away from me, the harder it will be to get her back.
Pausing in front of the door to my chambers, I flex my bandaged right hand before turning the door handle. My room is warm and lit in a soft orange from the flame gems and flickering candlelight. The corners of my mouth draw up when I take in the six women standing in different-colored silk robes right in the center, their gazes all fixed on the floor. I immediately dismiss three of them—one that is too tall, one with breasts that are too big, and another with hair that isn’t the right shade. Once the door is shut, I observe the ones that remain as I unbutton my vest, tossing it onto the back of a nearby armchair before moving on to my shirt.
I circle them, scrutinizing their features before I come to stand at their front. “I want each of you to repeat the phrase ‘As you say, My King.’ Now.”
“As you say, My King,” the woman in pink says, a slight quiver to her voice.
I nearly groan at the sound but force myself to hold it in. I step in front of the woman in the middle next.
Her eyes lift up to meet mine, a lush smirk extending on her pretty face. “As you say, My King.” Her sultry voice does nothing to arouse me further, and with a flick of my wrist, I dismiss her.
The final woman, her purple robe tied tightly around her as if to hide from me, keeps her gaze pinned to my boots. I curl a finger under her chin, my smile sharp when she flinches under my touch. “Say it,” I urge, my voice deceptively soft.
Her lip trembles, her light blue eyes wide as she rasps, “As you say, My King.” My grip tightens as I scan her more thoroughly. Her face shape is similar enough, if a little morepointed at her nose and chin. Her hair is a near-perfect match, going down to her mid back.Yes, she will do just fine.
“Go,” I say to the one with the pink robe, chuckling when she all but sprints from the room.
Removing my shirt and laying it with my vest, I turn and lean against the back of the armchair, my hands gripping it tightly enough to make the wood beneath the fabric creak.
“Are you frightened, darling?”
As if the words are a knife dragging along her skin, the woman shivers. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
I hum, my blood nearly boiling as I slide my palm against my hardened cock from the outside of the trousers. “Good. Take off your robe.”
She obeys immediately, the silky fabric sliding delicately from her body. I take in her soft curves—the small flair of her hips and perk of her breasts. Her petite frame is perfectly suited for my hands to grip, just how I know Rhea’s will be.
She avoids watching me undress the rest of the way, but it does nothing to lessen my hunger. In fact, it feeds into the burning desire that courses through me, tangling with my constant, deep-rooted rage. The monster inside me may be a self-reflection born and bred from the torturous beatings of my father, but I’ve shaped and molded it to become something that serves a purpose now.
Walking over to a vase of freshly cut flowers, I pluck a lily out and turn towards the woman who will fill my needsfor now.“Do not speak at all. Do not turn around,” I tell her while dragging the lily down her cheek and neck, over the slight curve of her breast and lower. Her skin breaks out in goosebumps, but she nods at my command. “You have a role to play, and if you do it well, you will be rewarded.”
Tucking the flower over her ear, my fingers lightly grip her elbow. I turn and guide her towards the bed before coming tostand behind her. The first skim of my fingers down her soft skin makes me moan, and I stare at the way her blonde hair hangs down her back—so lovely and perfect. Forcing her chest to meet the bed, I adjust the strands of her hair so they stay splayed out in front of me.
“You are mine.”
The meeting of my hand on her ass rings out into the room, followed by her cry of surprise. The monster within me pushes to be let out, to take control, but I wait. Patience pays off; it always has. Another smack, another cry—the sound a perfect symphony to my ears. Again and again, I mark her skin until it’s swollen and red. Gripping my cock, I position myself at her entrance.
“You havealwaysbeen mine.”
I imagine it’s Rhea’s muffled cries singing out into the room, Rhea’s delicate hands gripping onto the comforter so hard her knuckles turn white. I open the monster’s cage and let him command the feral pace I take.
Soon it will be her.It will be her.I just need to have patience.
The walk to the throne room is short, the silence much needed while I decide what I am going to say to the being on the other side of the Mirror. Simon meets me outside of the golden double doors, a roaring lion carved in the middle.
“I want that one to stay close by for whenever I have need of her,” I tell him.
“Of course, Sire. I shall arrange a room for her.”
