Elzira

 

He’s positively wretched. Just as Yanna presumed. A terrible man with a face that could make even the coldest of hearts catch fire. One look and I’d been spellbound.

From the rumors, King Bloodsun was old. Awful. Ugly. But with one look at his angular jaw, scruffy cheeks, and blazing amber eyes, those theories were proved wrong. His sharp, iron crown sits proudly on top of his messy black hair. His skin is a warm tanned hue, not unlike that of my sister. It’s the crooked, evil smile that had my heart stuttering in my chest.

For all of two seconds.

Somewhere, deep inside me, that girl from before still lives. She’d hoped he’d come to choose her as a bride. I would have still turned down his advances, but I would’ve been flattered nonetheless.

But no.

The Volc with fire in his veins didn’t want a queen. He wanted a young princess. My sister. An innocent. This evil king drips with malevolence and cruelty. I would never in a thousand years allow her to wed such a monster.

He holds his neck with his gloved left hand as he raises his other hand that holds the whip. I’ve heard stories of this whip of his. How he can cut one of The Damned in two with one hard strike. I shove Yanna behind me.

His amber eyes meet mine, hateful and calculating. With a hard sling of his arm, he cracks the whip at my feet, forcing Yanna and me back. Behind him, one of his men slinks forward, withdrawing two swords.

The Eyes of the White will kill him.

And then we’ll put King Bloodsun’s head on a platter to send back with his worthless army. The Volcs can mourn the loss of their king, but I will not feel guilty. No one comes into my land and threatens to take my sister from me.

Crack!

Yanna shrieks behind me as we’re forced farther back toward the far wall. King Bloodsun’s eyes narrow as he herds us into a corner.

Crack!

The whip hits the bottom of my dress, sending diamonds scattering across the floor. His smile is sinister. The monster clearly is enjoying this.

Reaching into my crown, I loosen my diamondblade. Once it’s in my hand that is still streaked with his blood, I stand ready to flay him. He tentatively pulls his gloved hand from his throat. The blood has stopped its flow. With his eyes on mine, he bites the tip of his glove, and pulls his hand out of the material. The glove falls to the floor and he brings his fingertip to the top of his cut. The tip glows reddish-orange as he slides it down the open wound, cauterizing it along the way. My stomach churns as the scent of burnt flesh invades my nostrils.

He has a very obvious gift.

The rumors were true.

My own gift has forsaken me.

I’m no match against a fire maker.

A grunt steals my attention from the powerful king and to my men. The room is painted crimson as his man slays each one of the Eyes of the White. His man is outnumbered, yet he cuts through them so easily.

Yanna whimpers from behind me. I hope she knows as soon as the opportunity presents itself, she must run. I’ll die before I let this man take my sister. She edges out from behind me, seemingly aware of my unspoken plan.

When the king’s wickedly handsome face turns toward her, I make my move. With a shriek, I charge for the fiery king. Lunging, I swipe my blade out, hoping I make purchase. At the last moment, he steps out of the way, causing me to stumble. His whip slices through the air and cuts through the back of my dress, sending more diamonds rolling across the floor. But the diversion was enough. Yanna runs through the sea of dead bodies toward the door.

I pounce on the monstrous king and try to stab him with my diamondblade. He shoves me back, barks out something to his man, and then cracks his whip at me. The diamondblade gets knocked from my grasp, shattering at my feet.

His amber eyes nearly glow as he circles me. This is the moment where I die. But my sister will be free.

A scream echoes through the dining room and I take my eyes off my opponent on a desperate hunt for Yanna. The man—the killer who slayed all my men in this room—has her in his grip.

“Nooo!” I cry out, charging their way.

As the man drags her out of the room and out of sight, an arm slides around my front. I’m jerked back against a firm, strong chest.

“Let me go!”

“Not a chance, snowflake,” he growls. “We’re not done negotiating.”

He releases me for a moment and then he’s binding my wrists behind me with his whip. Before I can take off running, he throws me over his shoulder as though I weigh nothing. My crown falls to the floor, cracking in two. I scream for Cavon, but I’m met with silence. King Bloodsun stomps in puddles of blood as he storms through my castle.

“Where did he take Yanna?” I demand, blinking back the tears of defeat. “Don’t hurt her, Volc, or so help me I will turn you inside out.”

He chuckles as though I’m here purely for his entertainment. “So feisty for someone who is at my mercy. You are bound and in my arms, yet you continue to make threats.”

I wiggle and attempt to throw myself from his grip, but I fail. I was feeling weak before he showed up and now I’m completely drained. When he smacks my bottom hard, I accept momentary defeat. He walks through my castle, trying doors and muttering to himself. Eventually, he climbs the many steps to access my tower.

“Ahhh, this room bears your scent. I think we’ll negotiate in here.” He smacks my bottom again, but I don’t even flinch.

He drops me onto the bed. I have the urge to burrow beneath the furs and sleep for eternity. I’m so tired. So weak. So broken.

“Untie me,” I croak.

He arches a brow and smirks. “Anything else, your royal frostiness?”

I hiss at him.

“They said you were a force to be reckoned with. They were not wrong,” he says as he sits on the edge of the bed. “But it was all for show, hmm? Look how easily I captured the queen and took her as my prisoner.”

His hand snakes its way toward me. I don’t have the energy to pull away. A shiver rattles through me when he palms my thigh over my dress. Heat radiates through the material.

He’s so warm.

I’m dizzied by the way it feels.

So unusual. So nice.

Focus, Elzira.

He’s the enemy.

I start to pull away, but his fingers bite into my thigh. The heat grows more intense. Not enough to hurt me. It certainly has me yielding to him for fear of what else he can do. I grow still, my eyes searching his.

“Why my sister?” I murmur. “She’s my only family left.”

He scowls at me, his grip loosening. “I didn’t say I was going to kill her, Queen. I just wanted to marry her. Are you always so stubborn and protective? It’s as though there’s a heart hiding beneath all those layers of ice.”

“Elzira.”

His brow arches. “What?”

“You can stop with all the names, Bloodsun. My name is Elzira.”

He drags his stare up my body, lingering at my lips, before his amber orbs lock with mine. “Elzira. A beautiful name.”

I wait for him to elaborate or call me a cold queen again. Nothing comes out.

“I’m Ryke.”

A shiver makes my body shake and he frowns.

“I thought you liked the cold,” he growls, his amber orbs flashing with anger and confusion.

“I am the cold,” I mutter weakly.

He yanks the furs out from beneath me before covering me with them. Then his palms press down on my shoulder and my hip, his heat warming me through the furs. I close my eyes and revel in the warmth. Tears leak out of my eyes as I suppress a relieved sob.

Ryke leaves the bed, but the warmth he gifted me with remains. I’m about to drift to sleep, thankful for the most comfort I’ve had in years, when I hear him tossing logs into the fireplace.

A blood-curdling scream leaves my lips. “Ryke, no!”

He rises to his feet, yanking out his sword as his eyes search the room. But it’s not men I’m afraid of.

“T-The sichee s-spores,” I choke out. “T-The fire will hatch them.” I wriggle until I’m sitting up on the bed, the furs sliding off me, once again stealing my heat. But I have to protect Yanna.

He narrows his eyes at me. “What happens if they hatch?”

My entire body trembles. “T-They escape. Yanna is allergic. S-She c-could d-die.”

“Sichee crawlers?” he asks, dropping to a knee and setting down his sword so he can peer into the fireplace.

I’m nodding when the fireplace bursts into flames.

“Nooo!” I stumble from the bed, tripping over my dress, as I run for him.

With quick movements, he rises to his feet and yanks me against his chest. “Calm down, Elzira.” His tone is fierce and commanding.

I stare at the flickering flames with my boot poised and ready to stomp on the sichee crawlers. They’ll find her. I can’t let them escape.

His strong fingers bite into my jaw, forcing me to look up at him. Up close, I can see flecks of gold in his amber eyes. He’s truly too handsome. It shouldn’t be allowed. I’m distracted by him.

“There are no sichee spores,” he assures me, his brows furling together.

“B-But my servant. He c-checked this morning.”

He clenches his jaw. “Your servant was wrong. Perhaps you should tell me his name so I could light a fire under him as well.” His thumb drags along my jaw. “I’ve had a long journey here and I need rest. You’re swooning on your feet. We’ll talk at dawn.”

I cry out in surprise when he scoops me into his arms. He carries me over to the bed and once again places me on it. This time, though, he kicks out of his boots and sheds his cape before placing his crown on the table beside my bed. I glower at him as he sheds more layers of clothes. But when he peels away the last of his clothing covering his chest, I gape in wonder. His muscles are perfectly formed and bulging. I’m mesmerized by the grooves that cut through his lower stomach. And the dark trail of hair that disappears into his trousers…

“I’m too tired for the wicked things you have planned, snowflake,” he says with a dark chuckle. “Tomorrow we can negotiate properly.”

He climbs into the bed, pulling the covers over the both of us. His palm finds my hip, drawing me closer. The heat is almost addictive. I hate how easily he’s stoked the madness inside me. I should be trying to escape and save my sister. Not hoping he tugs me nearer so I can sleep without shivering for once in my miserable life.

As if in tune with my thoughts, he brings me closer. His scent is unfamiliar, but nice. Evil, villainous kings shouldn’t smell nice. Letting out a sigh, I give in to the fact I’m his prisoner. At least for the night.

That is why I rest my forehead against his chest.

That is why I don’t revolt at the way his thumb rubs at my hip.

That is why I fall into the first deep, comfortable sleep in years.