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In the stillness of the countryside, I had no doubt that the guards had overhead everything… every threat, every yell, every moan, every plea.
I cursed the height of the tower and the endless tumble of stairs that opened up in front of me. The spiral was seemingly infinite, and my feet quickened on each step until I was bounding down the stairs with a hurry that was unbecoming of a newly appointed King.
Cameron, my loyal steward, assistant and constant companion, stood at the very bottom of the stairs, poised to capture my attention. He was dressed most unremarkably in a neat black tunic and trousers with a pitiful looking dagger hanging from his belt. His dark hair was slicked back neatly. Only a gold nose ring saved him from total obscurity.
“Your Majesty, we have news from Highblade—”
“Not now, Cam.”
I cut him off abruptly, pushing past with haste.
Not now, not now, not now,was all I could think. I desperately needed to get her scent off me and clear my head.
“Library on the left, Your Majesty,” Cam called over his shoulder. After years in my service, the steward had come to know me well—perhaps too well. He anticipated my needs unlike any other.
With a grateful sigh, I slipped into the cavernous library before Cam or the guards could notice the telltale tremble in my fingers. The doors shut with a loud creak, and I braced my back against the old wood, dragging in a deep breath.
I was not familiar with Clair Castle, an old dwelling that had passed on to Pyke through our grandmother. My sire had often used it as a safehouse, and although I had visited it once or twice as a child, it didn’t stand out in my mind.
The servants kept it in pristine condition, the domed space of the library devoid of dust and mildew—a monumental task, given how the old stone was prone to hogging moisture. A lone window had been carved into the stone in the far corner, letting injustenough light to make this room appropriate for reading.
Someone had taken the liberty to fit the window with mixed stained glass, the vibrant colors streaking across the floors as sunlight filtered through. It would have been an ethereal experience if I had any appreciation for stained glass, or art in general.
Like the tower, the walls were made of carved sandstone blocks that had been mortared together by hand. They had darkened with age, looming high above me in shades of dark yellow and brown.
As I gazed up at the ceiling, I realized that placing several floors between Olympia and I was no help.
Zoei.
My name, tangled in the needy plea of Olympia’s voice, was a haunting melody. It hung in the air like the sweetest notes of fresh blooms, making parts of me ache with a fierce battle of want and regret.
I had never before been filled with such sharp, contrasting emotions—my chest brimmed with them, only intensifying with each rough breath that left my lips. Perhaps on the surface, I had won that battle. I had thoroughly humiliated Olympia, leaving her a mess on the tower floor. Her ego would be in tatters, along with her dignity.
It was exactly what she deserved—no, in fact, she deserved worse. In retribution, she should be buried six feet underground in an unmarked grave instead of luxuriating in a tower.
But those thoughts didn’t distract me from the tumultuous storm raging in my heart.
I had left her unsatisfied—pleading, begging, keening wildly for release. Every fiber of my being wanted to return to that tower and swallow her cock whole. My core quivered with the unshakeable urge to hear my name on Olly’s lips again, twisted in pleasure as she found her peak.
She would taste so good spilling over my tongue.
A vision held my attention—the arch of Olly’s back as she ground her cock into my throat. The pinch of her fingers in my hair, holding me down for her pleasure. The curse that would burst from her lips as she found her peak.
Simply imagining Olly’s surrender wasn’t sufficient. I wanted tofeelit, savor it, revel in it.
But that wouldn’t be a punishment, would it? Instead, it would be a reward—and an extraordinary one at that.
No, I had done the right thing. Humiliation was the ideal punishment, especially for a rigidly uptight being like Olympia.
This battle had been won, but what about the war? The war that had first begun decades ago when I had pressed my lips to hers in that sun-dappled garden, tasting the sweetness of her submission for the first time.
I thought I had moved past that memory and evolved into someone who wouldnotbe led by their heart. But perhaps I’d overestimated my ability to make rational decisions where Olly was concerned.
“I apologize, Your Majesty.” Cameron’s voice was muffled through the thick wooden doors. “The Queen insists on your attention for an important matter.”
With a resigned sigh, I pried open the creaky door. After years in my service, my horrid mood didn’t waylay the steward.
“The Queen is concerned about your wellbeing,” Cameron explained, handing me a piece of neatly folded parchment paper. “There has been talk among the royal guard about the attempt on your life. She insists you contact her immediately.”
