Page 22 of The Rat King
The thoughts swirling in my mind made by palms sweat, the sudden anticipation ofwhat ifsending my heart skipping. I wanted her, that much was clear to me, but what would I do once I had her all to myself? I was still this monster who she could barely look at without flinching. Even if we somehow managed to break the curse, I saw how she stared at the real me, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy to soften my features for the rest of our lives. To hide myself for her or anyone else. No, things were better this way. Xavier won. He was the one who’d negotiated his way to the altar, so there he stood.
Regret curled low in my gut. I should have let him try with one of the witches before this one. There was something about the fire in her eye, her grit and self-possession, the way she carried herself that called to my blood. And her body… I let my eyes trail down her form, and hang on the curve of her ass, accentuated by that fucking dress. As if Xavier sensed my thoughts, he glanced back toward the rows of packed benches, eyes landing on me. He shot a glare full of daggers at me, moving a possessive step toward the witch.
I had two choices. Take her before they completed the vows or leave. Standing here in indifference wasn’t a choice. The little, hopeful smile she gave Xavier tipped the scale enough that, with a few motions of my fingers, I was gone. My flight would piss Xavier off, but when was he ever not pissed at me? With the few hours of moonlight left, I needed to find a woman to warm my bed. To quench this relentless stirring the witch called forth.
But my agitation overruled my other flaming emotions. When I was angry like this, the last thing I needed to do was be around a member of the more delicate sex. So instead, I transported myself deep into the forest, to a corner of the woods where the unsavory creatures of my kingdom hid. When I got like this, I spent the night hunting them, eliminating the dredges of society. Murders, thieves, rapists, poachers, demon worshipers, all the miscreants who banded together to poison my world.
Xavier would put them on trial and make them atone in his civilized ways. His justice was another point on which we disagreed. But the fact that I hadn’t stolen his bride ought to make any of the actions I took this night forgivable in his eyes. And it was either this or go take care of another thorn in the kingdom’s side like Sir Robert Musson, who had it coming eventually. Xavier believed he’d dealt with the man though, so to my mind, this was the preferable option.
And I had to diffuse this energy somehow. When I was done, when I had taken the blood owed to the Goddess, soaking the forest floor, and feeding her with its rich, life-giving properties, I would rest and forget about the witch.
Laughter drew my attention. I narrowed my eyes in the direction of the sound and listened. A crackling fire, and the voices engaged in hedonistic merriment, moon worship, drifted toward me on a breeze. I sniffed the air and caught the metallic scent of human blood. Not moon worship, demon.
This wasn’t like the full moon parties held in the fields surrounding Lieden Palace, where ritual and revery were sacred, visceral things. Carnal even. No, I knew the types who found their pleasure, who fed their most depraved desires deep in the shadows of the trees. I’d found them and they were my prey tonight.
Calling to my magic, I stepped into the clearing. As the revelers caught sight of my dark form illuminated by the firelight and the power blazing, glowing blue in my palms, screams rent the air.
Chapter 14
Avery
Iwalkeddowntheaisle a married woman under the light of a full moon. Oh God, I was a married woman now. A queen, equipped with a crown and everything. More like a tiara, with interlocking rings embedded with channel set round diamonds, and in between the ovals the loops created, yellow pear-shaped diamonds dangled which matched the massive yellow diamond solitaire adorning my ring finger.
Said bedazzled hand wrapped around Xavier’s forearm, and he patted it gently. Tonight, he appeared like the king I’d met for a brief moment on my first day in this plane. We had spent some time together, two months’ worth, but regardless of the fact that his mother cursed him to look like a half-rat-half-man, he just wasn’t my type. Falling in love with this man was an impossible task, and I knew it deep in my bones. Not that at twenty-five, I had exactly nailed down my type. I just knew it wasn’t him. Still, we were husband and wife, and no one could say that I, Avery Plath, didn’t give it one hell of a go.
The hopeful, beady, human-ish eyes that stared up at me from each guest made all of this worse. So much worse and marrying him was a huge step toward their freedom. A guilty twinge niggled at my awareness. Allowing this wedding to happen would only instill false hope in these people. I stared at my husband as he escorted me down the aisle, then glanced to the guests as I passed them, making a note of a conspicuously missing older brother. Not that I was scanning the crowd for him.
Xavier led me into a long banquet hall, even larger than the dining hall we took our meals in. The ceiling arched two stories over us, and massive tapestries hung between long skinny windows depicting garish battle scenes, fruit trees, creatures I assumed were mythical, humans playing instruments, and old kings and queens standing around looking at each other.
My favorite was of a woman dancing with an arm over her head and the other curved in front of her exposed belly button. Her skirt sat low on her hips and flowed in gorgeous panels of woven gold and red fabric. Her top, which had the same flowing sleeves which cinched at the wrist, hugged her bodice, and fell to the bottom of her ribs. It would have made a sweet club outfit, but in all black, obviously. The red and gold was a little gaudy for my taste. But like everything here, the tapestry was worn, tattered at the bottom, and in need of maintenance.
Xavier noticed I was eyeing it. “You like that one?”
“I like her outfit,” I said. “Actually, do you think we could get the tailors to make me something like it?” So far, their clothes were pretty modern—what we would consider vintage, and formal, and I wondered if they got things from our plane. Or had before the curse.
My husband wrinkled his brow as he considered the woman depicted in the panel, then frowned. I gathered he felt the outfit would be queenly and it would be a little breezy for the climate here. “Never mind,” I said before he could reply.
I scanned the room. Endless varieties of flowers burst from gleaming silver vases. The stunning arrangements sat on long tables which weren’t covered. Seeing the state of the drapes in my room, I understood why. Even the wooden tables had gouges in them and a million more superficial scratches. The flowers were probably the most visually pleasant things I’d seen since I’d been here. Well, those and the jewel encrusted tiara which now sat atop my head.
Leading me to the head of the table where two high-backed chairs were sitting side-by-side, Xavier pulled one out for me, and I sat. Wine was delivered, the guests took their seats, and we feasted.
Later that night, when I judged we had about an hour before the first toll of the bell, Xavier led me by the elbow to my room. His anticipation crawled over my skin and while I enjoyed myself by his side, like I would a childhood best friend or a brother, I couldn’t pick up the same vibe.
We stepped into the room, and I moved over to the vanity and began pulling out the pins which held the tiara in place. I set it in the open, velvet-lined box the girls must have set out for me. I felt Xavier’s warm breath on my neck before I glanced up to the mirror to see him hovering behind me. “Did you like my vows?” he asked. “I’ve been working on them for weeks.”
Then his hands were on the laces of my dress before I could reply. He tugged, then the bow was unraveled and the fabric holding my chest up relaxed. My hand went to the neckline as my heartbeat ratcheted up. Could he not see the blotching pink skin that was practically hives breaking out across my chest?
Xavier’s fingers combed through my hair, which had fallen half down my back, and his other went to the strap the same way Nighval’s had done earlier that night. While my body had gravitated toward the fear Nighval’s touch elicited, and something tingly that memorized the burn of his fingers on my skin, his brother—my husband’s touch elicited an entirely different reaction.Revulsion. Interesting, but I filed that away in the never to be explored, ever category.
His fingers moved the strap from my shoulder and his other hand wrapped around the wrist of my hand, still holding up the bodice of my wedding dress. In my ear he whispered, “Show yourself to me, Avery.” His wet lips moved on my earlobe, then it was in his mouth, and he was lowering the fabric down my chest.
As the fabric passed over my nipples, my arm, not in his grip, flew up so my forearm was covering them. “I’m sorry, Xavier. I can’t,” I said and couldn’t stop the shiver that wracked my body.
My husband let out a heavy breath and met my eyes in the mirror. “You are a virgin?” he asked, searching for understanding.
“I… uh,” I murmured. Did he expect me to be? What was I supposed to say? “No,” I said, tentatively. “I’ve been with a few people. It’s just been a while. Alongwhile. I’m nervous,” I said.
Since time was relative, I wasn’t really lying. There was that super hot guy who got my number from the club a few months ago and we hooked up a few times. When he picked me up in a blacked-out Mercedes-Benz GT-Class Coupe, I fantasized he was secretly a kinky billionaire CEO, and one time my fantasy was that he was an Italian mafia boss. He certainly had the build and coloring for it, but I knew it wouldn’t last, because it never did with guys like that and besides, I was coming here to become a queen.
