Page 70 of You're Not My King!

I didn’t have a clue what he meant by “wrong human,” but I would play along if there was even a slight chance it got me released. “Sooo, you gonna let me go? Since I’m not who you want, there’s no point keeping me here, right? I’ll just get in your hair. I’m pretty annoying.”

He huffed a short laugh. “You have humor. How cute.”

“That a no?”

Sucking his fangs, he tilted his head as if contemplating. “Before you opened your pretty mouth, I had planned on slitting your throat. I can have my fun with your severed head, but you may be more entertaining to me alive.”

Well fuck. This just got dark. I brushed aside that really disturbing mental image—it probably wouldn’t do me any favors to hurl my guts up all over the floor—and kept on rolling with the banter. “Yeah, um… If you’re looking for a jester, I’ll do my best.”

It wasn’t that I had any particular desire to be conscious during whatever this weirdo had in store for me, but being dead was a little too permanent. At least alive, I could try to stall for time, even if that meant suffering through the advances.

Maybe he’d throw me a bone and knock me out?

“Tell me your name.”

Think fast. “Luke.”

“Well, Luke, you have earned your life,” he said with a dangerous smirk, signaling for one of his guards to step forward and remove my bonds. “It will go to good use.”

I rubbed at my red, chafed wrists, soothing the ache. Swallowing thickly, I opened my mouth to respond, but words dried on my tongue as the guy rose from his throne.

My gaze came parallel with the belt around his waist.

Or, more specifically, the tail that hung there.

My stomach dropped and the color drained from my cheeks so fast I thought I’d faint. That was Vo’ak’s tail, I could tell by the little notch carved from the tip and the rogue spike facing the opposite direction to the others. This fucker was either really brave, or really stupid, and it took everything in me not to lunge forward and claw out his eyes.

“You do not approve?” he teased, stroking the severed appendage. “A trophy of mine that I am rather fond of.”

“It’s, um…” I cleared my throat. “Definitely a wild fashion statement.”

The bastard chuckled. “Oh, I am going to enjoy you.”

With a snap of his fingers and an order barked in Ly’zrd, I was lifted to my feet and escorted from the tent, mind reeling from that whole spine-chilling encounter. I didn’t even notice whether Cesare still lingered outside, too distracted by fantasies of killing that dickwad to pay close attention to anything else. There was a brief moment of clarity as I was led to a cave on the side of the mountain—chambers fit for a king—but it switched off again as soon as two female Ly’zrds descended upon me, pulling and ripping at my clothes and ushering me toward the stone tub at the edge of the room.

Once I was cleaned from head to toe and re-dressed in nothing but a furry cloth to cover my ass and dick—they even took away my booties, the fuckers—I was fed some tasteless dried meat and water before they scurried off. There was a pile of furs in the corner, which I had been forced to kneel in front of, and a smaller replica of the throne in the other hut. This guy had a serious god complex, and a clear aversion to interior design.

The chief strolled in, all unearned, cocky assurance, gaze fixed on my submissive position. That was the first time I noticed his limp—he favored his right leg, and I filed that piece of information away for later. He leisurely removed his harness, tossing it carelessly aside before circling me like a vulture, savage lust evident in his expression, and the slight bulge in his loincloth.

I barely resisted the urge to balk.

“Yes,” he hissed. “You will do nicely.”

Yippee for me.

“Bend over,” he ordered, tone brooking no argument. “Hands on the furs.”

I reluctantly obeyed, feeling sick to my stomach. Was this actually happening, or was I stuck in a nightmare? I didn’t know whether to close my eyes and bear it or fight and possibly die trying. I wanted, more than anything, to see Vo’ak again, to apologize and tell him that I loved him. Dying here wasn’t in my immediate plans, not without my mate by my side, but the thought of letting this creep have his way with me was soul destroying. I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to lie there and take it without my self-preservation flaring.

The chief stepped in behind me, his claws raking down the length of my spine. I gripped the furs, screwing my eyes shut as he leaned in, his mucusy tongue following the same trail, tasting me. He reached my shoulder blade, and I waited with bated breath for his next move, but he froze. Drifting to the skin at my nape instead, he swooped in and took a deep, indulgent sniff.

Almost instantly, he made a noise as though he had discovered something valuable.

“Interesting. They did do their job.” I had no idea what he meant and no time to ponder it as he leaned farther into my space, and my breath seized. “Hello, Reuben.”

I tensed up.

Shit.

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