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“If you want to touch me, you willask.” I know better than to believe they would leave me alone if I demanded it, but at least I can retain some power. The illusion of a choice.
“May I?” a man in blue and black asks, almost shyly. He clears his throat. “Touch you. May I touch you?”
I blink, so very startled. He might have been the first to ever ask to touch me so formally. Why, I’m rather certain that if I said no, he’d move along. But then others would take his place, and at some point, the no would cease to work. “You may. But bear in mind I’m your king’s doll.”
The stranger inclines his head in agreement, and slowly runs his hand on my collarbone, my shoulder, then my exposed breast.
“You truly are wondrous,” he whispers.
I find myself flushing, just as music starts in the gardens.
At long last, the king returns. The stranger immediately steps out of the way, bowing deep.
Doryn seems highly entertained as he sweeps me into his arms, pulling me close. “I see you’re quite the puppeteer. I’m going to have to keep an eye on you, aren’t I?”
My lips thin. If he had kept an eye on me, I wouldn’t have had to see to my own safety. But I regret the very thought as soon as it comes to mind. Of course he didn’t look after me. It’s not his role, and he’s never pretended he cares. He’s happy to share me. The one person who can look after me is me. For a little while, I’d fooled myself into believing that I had friends who had my back, but Alrion cured me of that delusion. I’m better off alone.
“How’s Enja?” I ask as he sways from side to side to the tune of the flutes and violins. It's not so much a dance as turning around in the same place. I can handle that.
Doryn tilts his head. “Is that jealousy I hear?”
I laugh so hard my eyes tear up. I wouldn’t have believed myself capable of laughing this hard, not here. Not anywhere.
“Keeping my ego in check, I see.”
“You—youjustpinned me…on your table, next to your dishes." I'm struggling to speak, chuckles breaking my sentences. Who knew this king could be so funny? "And had half your court tasting me for dessert, and you think—you somehowbelieve—I could feel anything but disgust toward you?”
If I could bottle this man's ego and sell it, I'd be richer than any king.
“I think," Doryn answers, all smiles, "that you’re disgusted with yourself for enjoying everything I do to you as much as you do, darling Rhea." His head dips to my neck, his breath cool on my skin. "I saw you look at her as though she was your enemy, whereas she never so much as acknowledged you. You weren't concerned about the mini-duchess jumping on my cock earlier because you knew I didn't want her. But you can feel desire, can't you? And you can sense I quite enjoyed licking Enja's tits once.”
I ignore the sudden bile rising up my throat. He's wrong. So wrong.I’m absolutely not jealous. If he likes her, it’s his affair.
“Maybe I looked at her like she was the enemy because shewouldn’t so much as acknowledge,"I quote, seething,"a woman right in front of her. I’m not invisible.”This place makes me feel like it. Either invisible or too noticeable, all for the wrong reasons.
Doryn considers my words for a moment.“She had pressing news," he tells me, justifying her behavior. I can't decide why he'd bother. "You see, your king is marching north again with his men. We expected it. It’s been too long since the last massacre. Another village or two is about to get destroyed for his greed.” Doryn’s affability disappears, though he’s still pretending to smile. “We leave at dawn to intercept him. But first, darling Rhea, I believe you’re desperate for a proper feeding.”
I already ate enough to feed a pack of hungry wolves. If anyone ought to be fed, it should be him, considering I hijacked his plate. “I’m not hungry.”
The corners of his lips curve in that wicked, knowing grin. “I’m not talking about stuffed figs and fruit mousse. I’m talking about what you crave.”
My eyes narrow. I shouldn’t understand exactly what he means, but I do. Deep down, in my core, there’s a growing need I've been trying to ignore, a fire his hands around my waist and shoulders aren't helping.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
Something tells me to walk away, or ignore him. Whatever he wants to tell me, whatever he thinks he knows about me, I don't need to hear it. He's wrong. He doesn't know me at all. Yet, for some stupid reason, I hear myself say, “What?”
“That you’re a succubus," he states, completely confident. "You were never told or shown how to control it, but I can tell. You're rather strong.”
“A what?” I ask, the word entirely unfamiliar to me.
“You southerners are so hopeless."Doryn sighs and shakes his head. "And so very ignorant. YourKind King’s doing."
"Why do you have such a grudge against our king?"
"For one, he's attacking his own people—as well as mine—and framing me for it. My folk know better than to fall for his nonsense, but yours? You've been brainwashed, manipulated, led to believe dogma for generation. Of course you'd take his word for gospel."
"Let's disagree." Feeling both irritated and defensive, I choose to ignore the insults, and lead the conversation back to the original point. "That doesn't tell me what a succa-whatever-it-is, or why you'd assume I am one."
