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Because his need for Ianora was as visceral as his need to breathe, it was as visceral as his hatred of her. He needed to make her suffer for everything she'd put him through.
Geordian cleared his throat, drawing Castor's attention away from the blood beading on his palm. "Sire?" Geordie said carefully.
"Yes? What is it? Didn't I dismiss you?"
"I'm sorry, sire, but there is one more urgent matter in need of an immediate solution."
Castor groaned and leaned back against his throne. He’d already had the roses that once draped along the back snipped so they'd stop bleeding all over him. "What is it?"
"The ghost of Lady Mitron, sire. She's still haunting the rooms assigned to Princess Ianora until the wedding takes place. Should we change the princess' lodgings?"
Castor leaned against his palm, his elbow digging into the thorns on the armrest. "No. Tell Lady Mitron that—"
A flash of light and red energy burst throughout the room, and Castor shielded his eyes from the intense glow. He blinked, finding that, at the bottom of the steps leading to this throne, a black and red bead of light had come out of nowhere. It expanded up and around, shaping into a portal.
Within seconds, guards standing along the throne room's walls assembled closer to the portal, weapons at the ready to defend their king if necessary. Castor, meanwhile, stayed in his seat, at ease.
A woman stepped out of the portal. Blonde hair, stunning gray eyes, and a body Castor would have recognized anywhere.
Ianora.
She wore the most gorgeous gown of silver and gold silk, yet it clung to every curve. The silk hugged her body like a second skin, accentuating her every feature and leaving little to the imagination. Her skin was the finest porcelain, her lips like cherries he was eager to pluck and devour.
Her aura, however, was the finest of all. She glowed with the confidence of an ancient queen, everything about her glowing enough to light up the dark, dreary chamber.
It was only now, seeing Ianora again, that Castor realized just how colorless his life had been without her.
The portal flashed again, and out came a man behind her—a man whom it displeased Castor greatly to see with his future bride: the captain of the Rainadan military, Elan Voss. He came with nothing more than the clothes on his back, a silver sword strapped to his waist, and two silver and oaken trunks that looked like they belonged to the princess.
"Well, well, isn't this a lovely surprise?" Castor said, leaning back into his throne to better appreciate the lovely woman before him. "I expected you to wait until the last minute to arrive, darling. You always did enjoy being fashionably late to your own parties."
"Hmph." Ianora's steely gray eyes stole the minimal light in the room as they assessed the throne hall. "I can't say I'm pleased to see you at all, Castor. I hope this curse has brought you hell."
"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Castor raised an eyebrow at her. "It does seem a little suspicious, doesn't it, that this mysterious curse falls upon the land just days after the agreement is finalized between your father and me?"
She laughed. Bright, cheery, like an angel's song. The sound made Castor's cold, hard heart flutter. "Me? You're sorely mistaken if you think I have any interest or mastery over the arcane arts. No. I had the intimate displeasure of learning about your plans for our wedding at the last possible moment. I suspect you had something to do with that."
"If it had been up to me, darling, I wouldn't have bothered you with an engagement at all, married you on the spot, so I could sooner have you in my bed." Castor licked his lips, appreciating the subtle curve of her hips and breasts from afar. "It was your mother who insisted you have at least a month to prepare yourself. Perhaps you should thank her."
Elan stepped forward, fire in his eyes. "How dare you speak to Princess Ianora Eroch that way? You might have secured her hand in marriage by treachery and force, but she is still an esteemed and noble princess. You will treat her with the respect she deserves."
Castor grinned. He had hoped to elicit a response out of Elan this way. Ianora was too clever to respond, but Elan was always a bit too much of a white knight to resist. "Once Ianora is my wife, I'll use her body however I see fit. Despite your 'progressive' laws about female autonomy in Rainada, the laws in Pheazar are different. As soon as we marry, she is my property, and I assure you, I intend to get my money's worth out of her."
Elan's sword flashed, and the silver light was the only warning Castor had before it was at his throat. He didn't move, act, or feel threatened by Elan's sudden appearance beside the throne. As powerful as he was, the vampire was little more than a chained dog in the princess's presence.
"One more word out of you," Elan hissed, "and I won't hesitate to finish you, damn the consequences."
"I would think twice about the 'damn the consequences' part of that. You do know what will happen to Ianora if she doesn't marry me, correct? If I die under suspicious circumstances, or less suspicious, in your case, the unwilling termination clause will still be in effect."
Castor didn't bother looking at Elan at all. The man wasn't worth his time. Instead, he looked at the delicious rage on beautiful Ianora's face. Oh, she was a vision of passion.
He wanted to see that look on her face while he buried his cock inside her. Just a few more days, and then he could have her any way he wanted.
"Stand down, Elan," Ianora said, her voice just as hard and cold as Castor’s as she stared at him.
Gods, that look. His cock bulged in his pants with a fury, and it was all he could do but imagine what it would feel like to be inside her finally. Would she scream with joy or rage?
Would she fight him or let it happen?
