The doors behind me creaked.
I glanced over my shoulder to Olin. He pulled the doors toward him, giving me a slight nod, then trapped me inside the room with the king whose rage seeped from him as a second scent.
The earthy caramel fragrance I’d come to obsess over had sharpened. It was headier but tinged with an acidic aroma that heightened the senses, his fury a blistering-cold energy akin to standing outside during the arrival of a snowstorm.
No pair of his many boots adorned his feet. They were bare and speckled with blood that I knew was not his. His hair was a tangled mess as if he’d continuously swept his hands through it.
It was then the full magnitude of this male I’d been recklessly toying with sank into my psyche with claws so sharp, I struggled to find my next breath. He was a storm given the form of a Fae king, his energy crackling with every heaved rise and fall of his chest.
My refined keeper and tormentor was gone. In his place was a beast freed from his gilded cage.
One of the males groaned.
A dagger made of ice flew from Florian’s palm and plunged into his cheek.
He bucked, but only moaned some more.
Startled into taking a step closer, I saw that each male’s mouth had been sealed. The ice encasing their bodies stopped beneath their nostrils, leaving their eyes the only way to communicate their terror.
“Who touched you?” Though the question was soft, it was edged in warning.
I kept staring at the males, but none dared to acknowledge me. Their eyes remained on the ceiling as if they were afraid they might fall upon me and they would be further punished.
“Tullia,” Florian clipped.
The use of my real name jarred me. I looked at the king.
His eyes were on the males. I still knew he was aware of every burning breath I drew.
I shook my head, wanting to move closer to Florian to reassure him—to attempt to end whatever this was—but not daring when his energy flared in warning. “They all did, but they were only fooling around,” I said, my words and tongue thick. “Just dancing.”
“Just dancing,” Florian said, his lips spreading into an unnerving and blinding smile as he rose from the chair.
I staggered back but croaked out, “Yes.”
Florian slowly paced before the males, and two of them squeezed their eyes closed. The other continued to stare at the ceiling.
As heavy seconds passed, I wondered if Florian had calmed enough to be reasoned with. I stepped closer, then stilled when he stopped pacing and wrapped his hand around the frozen arm of the male in the middle.
Muffled screams were trapped behind the ice covering his mouth, blood vessels bursting in his eyes, as Florian pulled.
Blood sprayed red and unending over the stone floor.
I stared at the severed arm melting within a pool of warm blood. “Florian,” I wheezed, my hand clapping over my mouth. “Why?”
I’d known he was not a good male. I’d known, yet I hadn’t imagined him capable of something like this.
“They touched you,” he said, and so simply, as he stared at the male who’d lost consciousness while he stood before the next one. “Groped you.” He turned to me with eyes so dark and wild, I ceased breathing. He jabbed his finger at his chest. “My treasure. My creature.” He turned and kicked the leg of the male behind him, roaring, “Fucking mine.”
More blood rained, and I fell to my knees.
I blinked at the severed leg, afraid I would vomit as the room twirled and twirled, and my stomach roiled.
Florian crouched before me and lifted my chin in a terrifyingly gentle hold. “Who took you into the trees?”
“No one,” I rasped.
His eyes sparked at my audacity to lie, venom coating each clipped word. “Who took you into the fucking trees, Tullia?”
My eyes closed.
I had to say something—but I refused to give him everything when those whispered words of going home were all I had.
Find a way to the city florist on Ashen Street.
He growled, and I opened my eyes. “It wasn’t any of these males, Florian, I swear. Someone helped me get away from them, and when I found my bearings, whoever it was had disappeared.”
He searched my damp eyes, no trace of the male I’d come to know visible in his own. Every inch of him had surrendered to his baser instincts—to the predator that lurked beneath his skin.
I’d caused this. By walking away from the throne during the festival, by falling victim to feelings and desires I couldn’t tame, I’d caused all of this.
And to make him stop, I would need to bring him back.
Guilt sliced sharp and deep, stealing my breath and then sending it from me in a heaved exhale.
Florian snarled, “I don’t believe you.”
My fingers shook as I unfolded them to grasp his wrist. He tensed, his upper lip curled, but the king did not recoil when I brought his hand to my mouth. I held his gaze as I pressed my lips to his bloodstained palm. “No one has ever touched me in the ways that you do.”
His eyes, which had been fastened on my mouth at his hand, snapped to mine. His nostrils flared slightly as though he were sniffing for a lie.
There was no lie to be found.
“Florian, I need…” My words trailed into hoarse noise as my eyes flicked to the bloodshed surrounding us, and I ceased trying to ignore the desire within me.
Instead, I squeezed his hand, allowing the heat I could no longer battle alone to bloom.
His gaze slowly traveled over my robe, assessing and cold, yet I warmed further beneath his appraisal. “The heat.” His head cocked. “So potent, I cannot sleep near you, knowing how much you need me.” Unblinking eyes met mine. “You need me, don’t you?”
I nodded, still clutching his hand at my cheek.
His thumb brushed the flushed skin there, his eyes narrowing when he discovered it wouldn’t recede. “Tell me you fucking need me, Tullia.”
I didn’t hesitate. Not even the blood and horror marring this room could stop me from finally whispering, “I need you, Florian. Now.”
Rather, such gruesome possessiveness had only made me all the more desperate.
The shame of my reaction to his actions faded, taking the guilt and sickness with it. For what he’d done, understanding why he’d done it…
I shivered, and the incessant ache in my core panged and swelled like never before.
Florian noticed, of course, and he cursed.
He plucked me from the floor. My arms and legs curled around his shoulders and waist as he carried me from the drawing room to the stairs. His unhurried steps and protective hold beneath my ass and the back of my neck were telling.
He would have me, and there was no stopping him. No turning back.
Fortunately, I didn’t want to.
I wanted to end this torment once and for all, despite the numerous consequences that would follow—the reasoning I’d clung to for days. None of it seemed to exist now. Nothing existed but him and the press of his body burning through my robe, his scent singeing and melting my limbs as I inhaled deeply at his neck.
A rumbled noise climbed his throat.
I kissed it, laid my lips upon it, the molten heat inside me dancing with impatience. He held me tighter, and as soon as the doors closed to his rooms, warned to my ear, “There will be no running from me now.”
“I don’t want to.”