Page 67 of Prince of Ruin

“Don’t fucking say my name.” They lock eyes with Ulna and make a signal as they turn away from me. “Take him back to the guest room, but guard it carefully.”

Still a prisoner, then, despite how I was able to make everyone else here warm up to me. Ulna’s arms are on me in a moment, and I don’t put up a muscle in resistance as she leads me out of the room. The others watch me warily, some, like Wolf, with pity in their eyes, others, like Ash, looking at me like I’m gettingwhat I deserve. Aden mutters something to Tarsus, placing a calming hand on their shoulder, and the fae regent buries their face in their hands.

I return to the guest room, stomach full, emotions depleted, but ever so grateful that I won’t be stuck in the prison this time.

I could have behaved. Could have sat there silently while Tarsus berated me. But I justhadto open my damn mouth and let that furious inner voice speak.

The truth is, I don’twantto be rude. I don’twantto always be on the defense. I don’t want my anger issues to get the best of me, just because I’m over tired and confused.

This isn’t who I am. I’m generally a patient guy. I usually try to see the best in everyone and am quick to overlook any offenses against me. It’s what got me through high school unscathed. But if the people I knew back home could see me now—running my mouth against a powerful fae regent who apparently has some sort of magic—they’d either be impressed or embarrassed for me.

But as furious as Tarsus makes me…there’s clearly some trauma buried deep within them, and I trigger that trauma. Because, by their quiet demeanor, I’m guessing they’re pretty chill, too. We rub off on each other like a match across sandpaper. They still see me as the Sovereign who tried to kill them. But I know…Iknowthat once they realize I’m not that person, they’ll treat me differently.

It’s just a matter of showing themwho I truly am.

Tarsus

The next morning, I brush a gentle kiss across Aden’s cheek and slip out of bed, wrap a gold and crimson silk bathrobe around me, then quietly exit my room. I’d told Aden my plan to question Clavicle further. If Aden truly wants me to believe Clavicle is as innocent as he thinks, then I need to spend more time with him, get a good reading on his character. And after he nearly convinced everyone in the Cadre that he’s innocent, I desperately need to get to the bottom of this.

After Clavicle was led out of the room, I got a report and update from the others. Apparently, the volcano is so bad now that even the colony of bats have had to relocate, according to Wolf. No wonder Abaddon didn’t come for a visit, demanding we return him his Spine Sovereign. The meeting was a reminder that we’re running out of time. Clavicle needs to stop this act of his and agree to calm the temper of Mother Terra. Because if he doesn’t, we’re all doomed.

Ulna is guarding Clavicle’s guest room when I approach. I swear, I don’t know when the general sleeps.

I reach for the door handle, but her voice stops me.

“Are you sure you should be seeing him, Your Grace?”

My teeth clench together. She shouldn’t question me. But I know she’s only looking out for my well-being. She was by my side the entire time Clavicle clung to the throne like it was the only thing that mattered to him. She helped me take him down.

She knows what happened last night, she’s not dumb. She saw the puddle of cum that Clavicle was kneeling in. She saw how I was undone as I stood in front of him, my sated cock level with his mouth. Unlike me, she can view this whole situation objectively, without past emotions involved.

She was never in love with Clavicle like I was.

“Nothing of…thatnature is going to happen again,” I mutter through the thickness of my throat. “Not unless he wants it.” And he won’t. “I just…I still have questions. I need to crack this act he’s got going on.”

A dutiful mask falls into place, and Ulna steps aside, allowing me access to the room. “I’ll be right outside, my lord,” she says.

Nodding my thanks, I step in and close the door behind me. I expected Clavicle to still be asleep in bed at this hour in the morning. But the bed is empty, and I can hear the shower running. I automatically imagine him naked as he showers, the water soaking through that hot pink hair and dripping down his lean body. My cock stiffens, and I have to keep myself for walking in there and fucking him under the hot water.

He used to be mine. Mine to take care of. Mine to make love to. Mine to worship.

Then he turned to Mother Terra to care for him, turned to Abaddon for a good fucking, and turned to the humans to receive his worship. He killed his own father and dipped his skull in gold, setting it on a mantle as a reminder of his victory. Once he was sovereign, he didn’t need me anymore, and when he realized that, he nearly killed me. Now he thinks he can pull the wool over my eyes in order to spare his life.

Clavicle is a madman, and if he thinks I’ll fall for the poor-innocent-human-who-doesn’t-remember-his-past act, then he’s sorely mistaken. Because his missing pinky is all I need as proof. This is not the same Clavicle that I loved all those years ago.

I’m not prepared for the moment that he steps out of the bathroom. He doesn’t see me as he crosses the room. Even in his human form, he’s a heart stopper. His pink hair is sticking in every direction in wet,wispy locks. He’s not as muscular as he used to be when he was a fae. He’s lean and lanky, and, wearing nothing but his black-rimmed glasses and the white cotton towel around his narrow waist, he almost looks the vulnerable part he’s trying to play.

I hate how into it I am.

Reaching down, I adjust my aching cock through my silk bathrobe, the memory of his lips sealed around my dick almost making me moan. But as much as I want it, I’ll not force him again.Not the same Clavicle.

In nothing but his towel, he sits at the table by the window. The maid brought in a very human meal moments ago—the type she usually fixes for Aden—and the small table is laid out with fried eggs, several pancakes soaked in butter and syrup, hog sausage, juice, and a delicacy I know most humans love because Aden won’t stop talking about it: coffee.

“Good morning,” I say, stepping further into the room.

His entire body tenses, his fork clattering onto his plate. “T-Tarsus. I didn’t see you there.”

For once, I actually believe him. I don’t miss the way his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.

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