Page 18 of Red Queen

I cry out at the sensation as he stretches and fills me. It’s the perfect intrusion, one that satisfies my most immediate cravings.

Another whimper escapes and I’m so lost in it, in the sensations that roll over me I barely have time to be disgusted with myself. I want this.

He stills, and I dig my nails into his arms, cutting the skin, wanting to inflict and mark him, too.

“Ready?” Alexandru doesn’t wait for an answer as he thrusts into me, slowly at first, building up to a fevered pace. With each stroke, I slip deeper into pure pleasure and abandon.

Each time he pushes back into me he fans the flames higher, and it rocks me right to the brink of orgasm.

Then he stops, hips pressed firmly against mine. He leans down, breath hot against my ear.

“Eleanna, you are mine, now and forever. Embrace your destiny.”

I succumb to the overwhelming sensations that course through me. With one final thrust, Alexandru sends us both hurtling into the abyss of pure ecstasy. In that moment, I’m not even sure I know my own name as I come apart.

After, we lie there, spent and panting, hearts beating in perfect harmony.

But in that mirage of perfection is Alexandru. His belief of ownership, of me being his underling, is something I can’t—I won’t—abide.

His mouth is pure magic as he kisses me again, pulling out of me and tucking me into him. And…I’m content enough to immerse in his mirage. I close my eyes.

My contentment has nothing to do with the afterglow of our union. It has everything to do with knowing I’ve found a powerful ally in my quest to reclaim my kingdom.

The wordless power struggle between us shifts easily. His silver eyes lock onto mine, and the question there predates even our first kiss.

“Eleanna,” he says, “we were betrothed once, a union poised to unite realms. But you...you clung to the cruelties of old, the bloodletting, the terror. Can’t you see? Those traditions hold us back.”

I sit up, drawing the sheet with me. “Must we discuss this again? The old ways are the backbone of our strength, Alexandru. My father’s legacy won’t be undone by fear or pity.”

“Your father was a tyrant.” He sits up too, the muscles in his chest taut with tension. “And his legacy will lead only to our ruin. We can’t treat humans as cattle. We must evolve, Eleanna, or we will be extinguished.”

His words strike at the heart of everything I stand for, but they can’t pierce the armor of my conviction.

“No.” The word’s a dagger between us. “I will not cower. I will not change. My way is the way of blood and night.”

Frustration and admiration darken his gaze, and finally, he exhales, a weary surrender. “You’re as relentless as the winter storm, my fallen Queen. And just as cold.”

I slide from the bed, his eyes following my every move. My skin prickles with satisfaction and an infuriating itch for further conflict—an itch that goes unscratched. I pull on the servant clothing that cling to my form like a second skin.

My mind races with thoughts of power regained, of my throne restored, and a sly smile curls my lips. The sex, as much a battlefield as any clash of armies, leaves me invigorated, determined to conquer him, and I’m hungry for more—more victories, more pleasure, more proof that my will can bend even the mightiest to my cause.

At the door, I look back at him sprawled in naked glory on the bed. “Until our next battle, General Amanar,” I say. It’s a promise wrapped in velvet steel.

Without another word, I exit the bedchamber.

In the hall, the unmistakable signs of a warrior’s residence become evident. Weapons—from swords with blades that gleam like the moon to shields emblazoned with the symbols of his lineage—adorn the walls, not just as decorations but ready for battle.

He’s ready, and so am I, the echo of my footsteps against the cold stone floor a drumbeat heralding my resolve.

I’ll stop at nothing to reclaim what is mine.

Chapter

Four

Alexandru

Istand in the dimly lit war room, surrounded by the scent of ancient parchment and the soft glow of candlelight that flickers against the maps lining the walls. Tracing the contours of territories marked by pins and strings, I plot the counterattack against Catarina’s traitorous coup.

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