Only then did he stop.
"Good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple that felt like mockery. "See? She's perfectly tame."
Laughter rippled through the court. Scattered applause.
Briar's vision blurred. She couldn't feel her legs. The vial pressed against her hip, completely forgotten and utterly useless.
Malus gripped her jaw and kissed her, deep and possessive, letting the court see his tongue sweep into her mouth. She tasted wine and underneath it, something darker, something wrong.
When he released her mouth, his lips trailed down to her throat.
"Every piece of you that falls away,” he said softly. “I'm going to collect. Keep. Rebuild you into something perfect."
Without warning his teeth sank into her neck.
The pain was sharp, immediate as Malus bit deep and drank greedily, his arm locked around her waist as she jerked in his grip.
The court watched that too.
He drank until her vision started to gray at the edges, until her struggles grew weak, until she hung limp in his arms. Only then did he pull back, licking the wound with a tongue that burned like frost.
"Mine," he announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the hall. "Body, blood, and soon enough, soul."
The court erupted in applause.
Briar couldn't move. Could barely think. Her neck throbbed, her thighs ached from their forced position, and somewhere deep in her chest, the warmth that connected her to Eliam flickered weakly, damaged by Malus's feeding.
He kept her there through the entire dinner, legs still spread over the chair arms, her body on display while the court ate and drank and pretended this was normal. Occasionally his hand would return between her thighs, stroking idly, reminding her and everyone else exactly what he'd claimed.
Briar stared at nothing, trying to retreat somewhere inside herself where this wasn't happening. The conversation around them had resumed, stilted at first but growingmore natural as wine flowed and the court adjusted to the sight of their king's human pet splayed open before them.
She felt eyes on her. Not just passing glances but a steady, hungry gaze. A fae lord at one of the nearer tables, his golden hair swept back from a sharp-featured face, watched her with an intensity that made her skin crawl even more than it already did.
Malus noticed.
"Lord Liefand, isn't it?" His voice cut through the ambient noise, pleasant and curious. The hall quieted.
The lord startled, then recovered with a bow of his head. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"You seem to be enjoying the view." Malus's hand traced idle patterns on Briar's stomach as he spoke. "I can hardly blame you. She is exquisite, isn't she?"
Liefand's eyes darted between Malus and Briar, uncertainty flickering across his features. "She is, Your Majesty. You are... most fortunate."
"I am." Malus tilted his head, a smile playing at his lips. "Would you like a closer look?"
The hall went utterly silent.
Liefand froze. Briar felt Malus's chest rise and fall against her back, calm and steady. His hand continued its lazy movements on her skin.
"I..." Liefand swallowed. "Your Majesty, I wouldn't presume—"
"It's not presumption if I'm offering." Malus's voice was warm, inviting. "Come. See what all the fuss is about."
A trap. This was a trap. Briar wanted to scream it, to warn the fool, but her voice wouldn't work. She watched in mute horror as Liefand rose from his seat, as he approached the dais with hesitant steps, as greed slowly overtook caution in his expression.
"That's it," Malus encouraged. "Don't be shy."
Liefand climbed the dais steps. Up close, Briar could see the hunger in his eyes, the way they roamed over her exposed breasts, her spread thighs. Revulsion churned in her stomach.
