Words can be sweet, and Galen knows what letters to string together to get my lady-bits into a wet heat. But what men fail to learn is that women want more than just their cocks. We can get that at any corner. We want a heart to treasure us, arms to hold us, and ears to listen to us.
We seek a partner who can be both our shield and our sword.
“It’s hard to be in the mood when you plan to honor the man who killed my brother this evening,” I hiss.
Cold water. How do you like it, husband?
Galen and I’s marriage is fucked up yet more normal than my parents’. We fuck, talk about surface-level things, we argue, but then we fuck again, and I guess it makes it bearable. I know that, over time, some marriages can evolve into loving ones. That’s what we needed. Time.
He’s about to shatter the hourglass. Time’s up.
“Dance with me,” he says in a hushed tone as he swipes his thumb near my bottom lip.
It’s a kind gesture only I hear. He’s giving me a choice without looking weak among his men. I look past him at the black roses hanging along the walls. There you are! My little window of salvation is barely seen because the florist stacked the roses so thickly.
I look around the room. Galen thinks I’m nervous. He allows me to leave these dreadful events early because he knows they make me uncomfortable, and also because he can flirt with other women.
I don’t like being around people. I don’t trust them. Too many have tried to kill me; some almost did.
Where are you?I look from soldier to soldier; every one of them is dressed in ceremonial leather, dyed grey, and embossed black roses decorate the collars.
Which of you killed my brother? Was it you, or you there, who only reaches my chin?
Galen’s eyes shift. I reach for his hand. He grips mine with a force that does exactly as I plan. You see, Galen was so focused on that necklace that he didn’t see the rose I held in my hand or how his grip pushed the thorns into our flesh, cutting his queen for everyone to see.
It’s a reminder to all his court that those Galen claims to care about can bleed. No one is safe. Therefore, it will shake their trust in him.
That crown? It means nothing. Galen is flesh, blood, and bones like everyone else here. I intend to make his people remember that.
“Oops,” I mutter. “I forgot.” I flirtatiously smirk. His eyes emit heat as he gazes at the rose that wounded us both. “Sometimes things we admire can cause us harm. Fuck you,” I speak fast and hushed.
The tip of his shoe hits mine. “What was that, my love?” His lip twitches.
“I said I plucked this for you.”
“Plucked?” The arch of his brow rivals a staircase that reaches the sky.
“Yes,you heard me right the first time.” I nod.
I glance down and see his wound slowly start to heal. First, the blood slows, then comes to a halt. Next, the skin turns pink as it begins to knit shut. Vampires heal almost as fast as shifters. Fae and mages are only a step above humans.
Every eye watches as the king holds my now-bleeding palm.
“Heal yourself,” he orders under his breath.
“The hour is late.” My lips tug up. “All my magic is gone. I need rest.” Unlike vampires, who can drink blood to fill their magic, fae and mages need rest in order to recharge.
His nostrils flare. He’s trapped in a corner. Either look weak as his queen bleeds, or offer to slow my bleeding, but it will cost him.
“A very kind gesture.” He speaks loudly as he takes the rose and tucks it into his front pocket. “I should see if others need plucking.” An evil smirk graces his face. His long stare says,Are you sure you want to threaten me, because I can kill more fae if you do so.
“A lot of things need to be weeded from your garden,” I murmur.
“I shall make sure you have the freshest of flowers, my love.”You will pay for this.
Reaching out, I adjust the flower, making sure it’s straight as an arrow, pun intended. “I think I’m allergic,” I reply.
“You’ll get used to it.”
