Page 162 of Kneel Before Me

“I know perfectly well what I wanted. But perhaps our arrangement is no longer valid.”

Daphne frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means why would I want a wife like you anyway?”

Daphne stepped closer, forcing him to hold eye contact. Maximus stared down his nose at her. They were barely six inches apart.

“Be very careful what you say next, Maximus.”

She used his full name on purpose. It was always Max with them, but not tonight. He knew what Daphne was doing—forcing him to remember that she was doing him a favor, not the other way around. She did not want to be queen. She did not covet the position, and she’d made that clear from the very start. Daphne wanted to fall in love naturally—not under forced conditions. She’d told him that herself. Maximus was the one who needed something from her, not the other way around. Everything was at stake for him; every move he made mattered. He could not let his father control him, but he could not let Daphne control him either.

He leaned in even closer and said, “Perhaps I no longer require your services.”

“My services?”

A terrifying silence fell. Daphne’s eyes narrowed. “Are you eliminating me?”

Maximus shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh,” Daphne whispered. “But you did.”

Before he could reply, she turned on her heel and left him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Daphne

Daphne ran all the way to the caves.

She didn’t care that she’d left Maximus alone in her bedroom. She didn’t care that he’d probably read the letters Kronos wrote her, nor did she care that he had effectively removed her from the competition. Her mother was already in bed; Daphne would not be missed. The wine bottle was still in her hand and she chugged from it as she ran, not caring that rain had begun to fall, not caring that her boots were soaked through. She was drunk and she was hurt and she could think of nowhere better to go for comfort. At one point she fell, scraping her face against the exposed roots of a tree. When she touched her fingers to her mouth, they came away bleeding.

The cave was empty when she arrived, the fireplace cold. There was no tinder, no match. Perhaps Kronos lit it with his powers. It didn’t matter. Daphne could cry just as easily in the dark. So she did. She cried for the little girl who felt less-than, who thought she wasn’t worthy of anything more. She cried for the version of herself who was under the bridge just weeks ago, hearing a boy tell her she was worthless. She cried for her current self, who felt quite worthless indeed. Why would I want a wife like you anyway? A wife like her. Nothing but a hole to fuck and a mouth to come in. That was what Benjamin thought of her. And Maximus too. Only Kronos saw her as something valuable, something worthwhile. Daphne sat alone in the darkness, drinking her wine and crying until she had no more tears.

Eventually, she called, “Kronos!”

No answer. It didn’t surprise her; she was surrounded by thick stone walls—surely no sound could get through. Daphne wasn’t even sure she wanted it to anyway.

“Kronos!” she cried again.

Still nothing. Eventually, she lay back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The stone roof of the cave was rough and curved. For the first time, Daphne noticed veins of white granite laced through the stone. It was beautiful, she decided. A blend of darkness and light.

Eventually, she closed her eyes.

“Daphne?”

Her name came to her through a fog of restless sleep.

“Daphne?” the voice said again.

She opened her eyes to see Kronos leaning over her, his brow furrowed in concern. His hair was dripping; it must still be raining outside. Dirt was smeared across his bare chest, along with what looked suspiciously like blood. With a jolt, she realized he was naked. He seemed to realize this at the same moment she did, covering his cock with his hand. She’d already seen his cock—it had been down her throat for Kora’s sake—yet he remained respectful in her moment of crisis.

“You came,” she whispered.

Kronos reached for her, brushing her curls from her face. “Of course I did.”

Daphne tried to sit up but couldn’t. Her stomach was still swimming with wine, her head pounding with the imminence of hangover. She slumped back onto the stone, looking up at Kronos.

“Maximus and I got in a fight.”