Page 32 of A Bond of Fire and Roses

“Where is she?” I swing around and then out into the hall. “Where’s my wife?”

Noble, ever the watchful one, always in my fucking shadow, appears at the end of the corridor.

“You had her sent to the honeymoon chamber, remember?”

I don’t, but I shrug all the same. In truth I’ve been preparing for her running away since day one. Noble follows me to where I had the bridal suite prepared. It’s the biggest chamber in the palace and I had hoped we would share it. However, the fact my wife probably sees it as nothing more than another cell makes me want to heave. Damn it, I didn’t want any of this either. I didn’t want to be king and I sure as fuck didn’t want to destroy her whole kingdom that day. It was either her kingdom or mine, and I’d make the same choice again if I had to. My hands were tied. They were fucking tied, Maelena!

“I’ll stand guard outside,” Noble says, once we reach the room.

“Sure, you will.” I laugh as I take a final drink of the wine and wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve. “My wife’s body is for my eyes only, and so are her screams.”

I already made sure my court would not be present for the consummation. Noble is deluded if he thinks I’ll make an exception for him. The fucking pervert. He can take the sheets for all I care and prove that my wife and I fulfilled our royal duties. Until sunrise, however, my wife’s moans will be for my ears only.

I open the door and close it quietly behind me, locking it. The chamber’s fire has been put out and all the candles have been snuffed apart from one on the bedside table. Its amber glow bleeds over my wife already asleep in the four-poster bed, her body surrounded by piles of useless silk pillows.

“Mist?”

A smile threatens my lips as she continues to feign sleep. I take a step towards her, unbuttoning my tunic and sliding it over my head, then reach for my belt. If my wife thinks pretending to sleep will get her out of consummating our marriage, she doesn’t know her husband at all.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ihear him shouting for me in the corridors. Whether by instinct or insanity, I keep my knife hidden under my pillow, my fingers wrapped around the gilded handle.

The door slams open and my heart leaps into my throat. My husband’s breathing is ragged and his footsteps heavy as he stumbles into the wedding chamber.

Several moments pass before he moves or speaks. All the while, I think I’m about to choke on my own heart as it thrashes in my throat.

“Mist?”

I keep my eyes closed despite my instincts telling me to open them. Never turn your back on a predator. Which is what I’m doing right now. However, the silence that follows is far more terrifying than any sarcastic remark he could make. He knows that I’m pretending to sleep. I can just sense that he knows, and he’s probably looking down at me with a smirk on his face.

I grip my knife tighter.

I know what is expected of me on the wedding night and, as king, Erax too. The consummation is something neither of us can avoid. But that doesn’t mean I can't fight it.

Erax moves over to the side of the bed. Through the barest slit of my eyes, I can see he’s half naked and that his trousers are loose, his belt hanging open at his hips. Again, he doesn’t move or speak. He doesn’t even touch me. He just watches me, as if debating with himself. Every inch of my body flares under his close scrutiny. This is it. This is the moment I’ve dreaded more than any other.

In my fear, I clench my eyes, completely forgetting I’m pretending to be asleep. Erax takes a step, and I hold my breath, waiting for the moment he throws himself on me. The moment doesn’t come. Much to my own surprise, and instant relief, he moves away and collapses none too quietly on the chaise lounge near the foot of the bed.

I let several minutes pass before braving a glance at him to confirm. His tall, muscular body practically swallows up the chaise. His arms and legs hang over the sides as the moonlight bleeds over him from the balcony doors. His breathing is loud, almost like he’s fallen asleep. I press up onto an elbow to get a better look of him. Snoring lightly, his head rests to the side which causes dark, dishevelled hair to fall over his eyes. He is sleeping.

A surprised laugh quietly leaves me as I stare at him. I don’t know what’s worse. The fact he didn’t wake me up or the fact my husband has fallen asleep on our wedding night, as if I’m not worth the air he breathes let alone consummating our marriage. Why am I even madding about that?

I’ve dreaded this moment—dreaded it—since I was a young girl. I should feel relieved instead of rejected. And that hurts. It really, really hurts. Because to be rejected by someone you love is one thing. But to be rejected by your enemy? That’s another thing altogether, and something about it just hits harder. It stings.

I throw my legs over the side of the bed. Removing my knife from under the pillow, I tiptoe over to him. My bare feet are nearly silent as they pad against the dark wooden floor towards my target. As I hang over his sleeping body, the knife clenched in my hand, the sharpened blade gleaming in the moonlight, I know there is a part of me that doesn’t want to kill him. But this man—this beautiful thief and monster—is the reason for so much of my suffering. He’s the reason I will never be free. I will always be bound to him and to a kingdom I wanted no part of.

So long as this man is alive, our destinies will forever be entwined, and it’s the other part of me, the part that wants him dead, that knows that would never have happened had he not rained fire upon my world that day.

“Mmm,” Erax mutters in his sleep, turning his head to face my own. His eyes remain closed. “Mmm… Mist.”

That stupid part of me, the part that doesn’t want to kill him. It lowers my arm. He’s… dreaming about me?

I hesitate for an instant, only an instant, when his dark lashes suddenly lift, and those piercing eyes cut right through me. In another instant, Erax grabs both of my wrists and pulls me down on top of him, our bodies flush to each other. My grip slides on the knife but I manage to keep a hold of it, angled awkwardly over our heads.

“Second time lucky, darling?”

His breath sweeps over my cheeks, his scent invading my senses.

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