A solid arm snared my waist, lifting me off my feet. I screamed, twisting like an eel, teeth sinking into flesh, nails clawing at the grip. Egath grunted, pressing me against the wall, his body heavy and unyielding as it pinned me in place.
“Now he’ll be worse,” he muttered, holding my arms tight. “As much as I love your fire, he hates it. Stop taunting him.”
I writhed, desperate to drive a knee into his groin, to bite, to fight. “Let me go, and I will!”
“You know I can’t do that.” He chuckled, amusement in his voice. “Honestly, I was pleased when I saw you grab the knife. A bold choice—and you picked a decent moment to use it.”
“I just stabbed your cousin!”
“I’m aware—better you than me.” His laughter was low, teasing. “He can’t killyou.”
“If he finds out you’re playing with his toy, he’ll kill you,” I hissed, fearful on the edge of panic. I dropped my weight on my wrists.
He absorbed it, then purred a thoughtful hum. “Maybe—but I get his leftovers. He can hardly fault me for wanting a taste.” His nose pressed against my exposed neck, inhaling long and deep.
I jerked my head, teeth sinking into his jaw.
He flinched, then jerked away to swing me over his shoulder. “You’ll have to do better than that, Princess.”
But I was a queen.
Egath returned me to the bed, depositing me like a bundle of flesh. Tallon seethed while a servant dabbed at the shallow wound along his side, their eyes hungry and watchful.
When Egath reached for the ropes meant for the canopy curtains, Tallon stood.
“No. Don’t tie her up.” His lip curled into a sneer, and I straightened, hands pressed into the mattress, muscles coiled to spring. I would flee from him again.
His hand slammed against my neck, cutting off my breath, throwing me back onto the bed with a force that rattled my bones. My fingers wrapped around his wrist, scratching, legs kicking. He pressed the dinner knife against my skin and with that dull, pathetic blade—hesawed.
I screamed and thrashed under him, seizing anything within reach—blankets, sheets, air itself. Panic clawed at my lungs, sight swimming, vision narrowing to flickers of shadow and motion.
His mouth bit down, sealing over the fresh wound.
My mind flashed to Kallias. The way he would hold me, hands warm, lips tracing my cheek, settling into the crook of my neck with gentle, lingering kisses. The way his nips and soft sucks sent a shiver, a bloom of heat, racing down my spine to curl low in my belly.
This intimacy—so gentle, so sacred—was now twisted into horror. Tallon’s lips and tongue traced the wound, fevered and invasive. Bile surged, choking me, and I shoved with every ounce of strength at his chest, nails raking, fingers clawing.
He released me, panting, then grabbed my jaw, thumb pressing mercilessly against my mouth. I tried to bite, to feel something, to assert myself—but my teeth stayed. Still and powerless.
The world pitched beneath the bed, tilting, spinning. My hands clawed at blankets, desperate for stability, grounding, control.
“There now.” He laughed, running a hand through his tousled hair, amusement flickering in his eyes. “No ropes needed.”
I couldn’t move. Limbs lead, heavy and unresponsive. My jaw slack, mouth agape like a fish. My body had betrayed me, surrendered entirely to his power.
“Off.” He stepped back, pointing to the floor. “On your knees.”
The servant darted through the door, and Egath took a seat, observing with calm detachment. My arms flopped forward, dragging me to obey. Legs bent, folded, the mechanics of movement precise but hollow, like a marionette obeying commands while awake, aware, trapped. I moved with the ease of someone wide awake—but I was a prisoner in my own flesh.
“Deimos wants to tease me, prove he’s king. But he forgets—you’re mine.” Tallon circled me, fingers slipping along my shoulders to pull the dress from my arms, baring my back. “And I do what I want with my toys.”
His belt cracked against my skin, shock of pain flaring through nerves, grasping for a noise I could not release. My jaw refused, my throat locked.
“Tallon, she can’t scream,” Egath reminded, voice smooth, indulgent—almost as if he wanted to revel in the sound too.
“Oh, I’m still learning.” His laughter rippled, light and cruel. This was a game to him.
The muscles in my jaw loosened enough for a gasp, a shallow inhale—right before the next strike.
