Page 17 of The Hollow King

“All humans are full of deceit.”

“Are you not?”

“Watch your mouth,” I growled, clenching my jaw until my sharp teeth bit into my lips.

“I apologise.”

There was no emotion in her voice. No expression on her face to read, but her eyes lifted and they were dull, lifeless.

“Lie on your belly. I do not wish to see your face.”

I did not wait to see if she followed my instructions and collected the small jar of my carefully blended balm.

All humans feared death and I would inflict pain on her until her fear awakened. Every sacrifice became fearful upon the moment of death, even when they gladly offered themselves as my sacrifice.

I caught her ankle and dragged her down the bed until her legs dangled off the edge.

"Let us see how you fare when you are unable to walk in your final days."

When there was no reaction from her, I angrily scooped out some balm.

Every single one of them needed to suffer. She was not an exception.

No one was.

Chapter 10

Iona

Numbness had taken over and I no longer cared what he did. My existence had only a few coins attached to it. Dornovia was a distant memory as was my mother. This was Talaksia, home of the beast and beastly people. I buried my face in the bed as his fingers began to move and the balm began to build an unwanted heat. It reminded me of vines wrapping around everything that they came into contact with.

It did not stay where he placed it. The warmth crept outward slowly, the way a single vine sends out its first tendril before it finds purchase, curling low in my belly before it found something to climb. My thighs. My spine. The place low in my back that no one had ever thought to touch with anything but a blade.

I pressed my face harder into the bedding, my breath uneven against the coarse linen. The heat did not burn. It coiled instead, tightening with every slow drag of his fingers, until I understood the balm was not content to sit upon my skin. It meant to root itself in me.

My fingers curled into the sheets. Not to resist him. I no longer had the strength to pretend that was why.

Something low in my belly clenched, unbidden, each time his touch circled closer to where I ached the most. The heat gathered there, thick and insistent, spreading like ivy left too long against stone, working its way into every crack until there was no part of me left untouched by it.

The monster did not speak. Perhaps he was not as deceitful as us, but everyone had flaws. No one was perfect.

I allowed myself to be taken away from my reality, floating away from the castle and back in our orchards. Where the sun was warm and the scent of blooming flowers from the trees filled the air.

His breeches pressed against my legs and I felt his member press between my cheeks. It was hard once again. I was tempted to ask for mercy, but one must possess a heart first. I took a deep breath as he pressed harder. Pain followed as he forced me open. The balm helped ease the thick tip of his member.

There was no care as he thrust forward and breached me. I clung onto the pain even as I screamed. I thought I would die when he began to move. I sobbed into the bed, clutching it as he continued to forge his path inside. It felt like a hot iron poker working its way into my rear passage.

Just when I thought his cruelty could not become worse his hand worked around my hips and his fingers pressed down on me before they began to rub me in a circular motion.

“Even as you bleed, you soak my fingers,” he said, his voice low with smug satisfaction.

The slow rhythmic strokes began to build the wretched heat once more and he began to thrust deeper. I grunted and tried to relax my muscles to lessen the pain. His fingers continued to move and this time, I felt how wet they were. Tears coursed down my face and the cotton beneath me grew damp.

“Yes,” he murmured, gripping my wrist and pulling it back. “Use your hands and hold yourself open for me.”

My head sank lower as I reached back and spread myself open for him.

He began to thrust harder and faster. Tension began to curl in the pit of my belly as his fingers rubbed more forcefully. My body rocked on the bed with my scarred cheek rubbing against it.