Page 7 of Crown of Chaos

Knox craved the intensity we experienced when I’d reached the end of my heat cycle, but a normal person would have run from what we had, what we’d shared. I wasn’t stupid enough to think he would change for me, though. Knox was dipped in pain, coated in tragedy, and I had no intention of becoming Captain Save-A-Hoe. By not giving in to his demands to speak to him, I enforced my own demand that he treat me kindly and not as a weapon for him to use.

I was not a victim, and I had read enough stories to know that women went back because they were afraid. Abusers took what we allowed them to have, but it was never enough. They made us feel frightened, unsafe, and unworthy of being loved by anyone else.

I’d felt his need to control and to keep it at all costs. It was something traumatized people did, feeling safer when they controlled the world around them. Knox was wounded, and he’d been continually targeted for centuries. That he was still standing was a symbol of his strength and ability to endure. It wasn’t until I forced him to feel something that he attacked, and he struck hard and fast.

If the man touched me with his guard down, I expected the lashing that followed. Knox was afraid to feel because feelings couldn’t be controlled, and that didn’t fit into the strict rules he held himself to. Knox was a victim here, and he’d chosen to make me his because of that fact. He survived a goddess hell-bent on breaking him and ripping the pieces to shreds. Every time he got back up, Hecate would intensify her attack, until it had reduced him to nothing but rage and the need for revenge.

Knox didn’t represent the villain in my story any more than I did in his. He was just a creature who had endured hell and fought to stop others from experiencing the same fate. But then there was his rage. The man needed the anger to wage war, and I hadn’t been convinced of that until coming here.

“Aria, talk to me. Tell me you’re there at least,” Knox urged, which he’d continually done over the past few weeks. He exhaled, and I saw his throat bob as he stared through me.

Knox stepped away, dropping his head back, and then rubbed his eyes before settling onto the chair that faced the fireplace.

“I resealed Sven into the tomb,” he announced, leaning closer to the flame and resting his elbows on his knees. I stood and moved to the translucent barrier so I could again see him clearly. Dark circles were beneath his eyes, and the coldness in his stare made a shiver rush down my spine and race to my toes. “I removed your Aunt Kamara’s bones and tossed them to the dogs. I kept her skull, though, to remind me of what she was.”

Sliding down the wall that faced the chair where Knox sat, I studied the anger pulsing through him and hugged my knees against my chest. Pain etched his features, but there was a rage right beneath the surface that terrified me. He looked calm, but I could tell that there wasn’t a single peaceful thing about him as he watched the flames.

“He wasn’t my son. I know that,” he admitted before clearing his throat. “Your menstruation didn’t come, did it? You opened your womb and allowed me inside, where I had no right to be. Not because that was what you wanted but because the library forced you to do it so you could take what you were here to steal from me.” Knox’s words carried warning, but they also had been hesitant. The way he shifted and faced me exposed the confusion he felt that mirrored mine.

Reaching up, I wiped the salty tears away. I didn’t blame Knox for questioning all the things happening around him. If I were in his shoes, having just discovered that everyone I’d ever loved was installed in my life, I’d be the same.

“I dreamed of you heavy with our son growing within your womb. He was born faceless and dead before he could take his first breath. That’s not something I want. In fact, I want nothing from you. You’re one of them, even if you’re not yet evil. You were right. Marrying you like that was a mistake. Nothing good comes from the type of monsters we are, Aria. Creatures like us, we’re not allowed to dream or crave soft, gentle things. We don’t get a happy ending. That’s not our fate or destiny. We’re just fucking doomed to this nothingness that haunts us while taunting us with the prettiest of objects we’ll never have.” He rose, took one last look in my direction, sighed, and then walked away, closing the door behind him.

Tears continued to trail down my face long after he’d left. I stood after some time had passed, settling back on the chair to study the flames dancing on his side of the barrier. He was right, no matter how painful it had been to hear.

I wasn’t evil yet, but I would probably become unrecognizable before this war ended. If I carried Knox’s son, there was still a possibility that he could be born as Knox warned, and never knowing the love I would hold for him. And I’d known Knox would regret marrying me, but I figured he would at least be happy with the consolation prize of access to my magic.

Slowly, sleep claimed me, and with it came nightmares of faceless sons and endless pursuit. I missed the time when Knox was who held the monsters at bay and not the creature who haunted my dreams.

Chapter Five

The sound of raised voicespulled me from sleep, and I forced away the last remnants of slumber to glare through the library shelves. Then, standing, I stretched my limbs and stifled a yawn as I turned to where Brander, Killian, Lore, and Knox all stood around the large, round table. They were talking over each other and pointing out locations on the map that was spread before them. I really wanted to rail about how they’d disturbed my rest, but that would reveal that I was here and watching them argue. Either Knox hadn’t slept or they had just woken him because he was only wearing sweatpants and had forgone a shirt. His hair was also a mess, which made him even sexier than he normally was.

My bare feet padded over the marble floor toward the barrier so I could get a better look at what they were talking about. Killian moved something on the table, forcing my focus to the miniature queen pieces set throughout the map. Swallowing the bubble of laughter, I allowed myself a moment to take them in while they studied it intently.

“That can’t be right,” Knox growled, stabbing his finger at the map. “I caught Aria’s scent here last time, and there’s no way that many witches covered that much distance over such a short amount of time.”

“Maybe they’re using portals again?” Brander offered, pinning Knox with his sapphire-colored stare. His knuckles pushed on the surface, revealing fresh ink on his forearms and biceps. Men shouldn’t be able to add tattoos, not when just the sight of them made women weak in the knees.

It was an unfair advantage against the opposite sex. Body art drew the eye, held you prisoner, and by the time you finished eye-fucking the man wearing the ink, you usually found yourself fulfilling your dreams of becoming a rodeo queen. Knox was a prime example of that. Considering one look at him made me want to lick every inch of his skin and taste the ink that marked his body.

“I’d have felt it if the witches were using portals,” Knox admitted. “I haven’t sensed shit in days. The last one they created had the same fingerprint and magic trail as the one Aria traveled through two weeks ago. Unfortunately, by the time I made it to where I’d detected the magic, she was gone. The more people she pushes through them, the more magic she has to use, which makes them easier to track. Aria barely uses a trickle of magic when she alone passes through a portal. It’s why I can’t find her or sense if she’s returned to the library since she left.”

“So the only way to find the witches is to follow the path of bodies they’re leaving?” Killian asked. “They attacked here”—he pointed to the map—“but left men alive. Why? It makes no sense for them to leave witnesses.”

“Because Rayford is a peaceful place.” Knox snorted while pushing his hands through his hair, looking as exhausted as I felt. “Aria didn’t decimate them because they weren’t a threat and they hadn’t committed crimes against anyone. Fenton was filled with murderous bastards that enjoyed slaughtering creatures, and the witches made a show of killing them. No one was left alive. Cairn was the same, and we found the inhabitants all headless and hanging from their cocks. From Aria’s point of view, she isn’t murdering those who don’t deserve it. Her leaving people alive in Rayford tells me she’s still holding to that philosophy.”

“Obviously Aria isn’t aware of the treachery surrounding her yet,” Killian stated softly as his dark-blue stare lifted and held Knox’s.

I frowned because I had no idea what treachery Killian was talking about.

“You are afraid of what Aria will do when she finds out, aren’t you?” Brander asked cautiously, and a shiver of unease moved through me. “When she does, her entire world will shatter, and that’s dangerous. If she goes off the deep end, it’s game over,” he mused, frowning.

What the hell did they think I didn’t know? What would be so bad that it would send me over the edge? I slid my attention to Knox, and his body language sent fear rushing through me.

“Aria is resilient,” Knox said a second before someone knocked on the closed door. Killian moved the pieces on the map as if to hide the locations they were tracking, which was curious indeed.

Celia entered the room, all but singing as she did. She’d dressed in a silver gown with a low bodice cinched so tightly over her breasts that they threatened to spill from it. Her blonde hair was braided in a way that was similar to how I’d worn mine when I’d arrived at the palace. Her thick, dark lashes batted against her rosy cheeks as she fixed her eyes on a shirtless Knox.

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