Page 5 of Mated

My feet moved before I could stop them, before I knew I was even obeying. And when I stood right before him, having climbed the stone steps to the altar of his throne, the air left my lungs in awhoosh.

Gently—reverently—he took my wrist in his huge hand, his claws careful not to pierce my skin. I was transfixed at the sight of him, couldn’t stop from staring into his eyes, feeling them pull me into his dark, fiery embrace.

I wasn’t aware he’d brought my wrist to his teeth until I felt him pierce my tender flesh. I gasped and tried to pull my arm away, but he held me tightly and sank his fangs into me even more.

The pain was intense, insurmountable. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stared at where he was latched. That pain was like liquid fire in my blood, spreading through my veins until it consumed all of me.

When he let go of me, I snatched my arm away, wrist to my chest, and looked down at where he’d bit me. Astounded, I saw flames licking over the wound before dimming—but not vanishing--as if fate wanted me to know he’d marked me.

I knew he’d put a piece of himself in me. Something that would stay with me forever.

“There,” he said roughly, his voice almost tender. “Now all will know who you belong to.” He grinned again. “You wear the mark of the king of Bone Ash’s Dark Realm.”

The wound was sealed, healing magically, but I still felt that fire burning through me. It wasn’t painful, and dare I even say… pleasurable. He’d given me his possessive symbol of ownership, and something inside of me shattered and reformed all at once.

I belonged to him.

He rose, reaching for me when I would have retreated, his massive hand cradling the back of my head. He tilted it up, so I was forced to meet his lava-like gaze.

“You’ll rule beside me, little one,” he growled, ordered. The king’s voice was thick with possessiveness. “And as my queen, you’ll wear a crown of ribs. You’ll have the monsters of my realm at your feet to do your bidding.”

He leaned closer, and I held my breath, his body big, his texture, a strange sensation against my fragile, sensitive skin.

“Submit to me, rule beside me, and I promise you’ll be my everything.”

A shudder wracked through me, not from fear but from howrightit felt hearing him say the words… feeling him next to me.

“What say you, little human? How much will you give of yourself to me?”

I pressed trembling fingers to my lips knowing that survival demanded I fight him, but something else twisted in me. Sensitive tendrils of forbidden desire consumed me. I was terrified of what I felt. I’d been a prisoner of my father and his gilded cage my entire life.

I didn't want to be shackled again.

“I don’t just offer you a crown,” he growled out, maybe reading my mind or seeing my hesitation, “but also your freedom. This will be your domain. Your realm. All I ask is that you give yourself to me.”

I was breathing heavily, taking in his words, letting them sink in. I didn't know this demon, but for some strange reason, I knew he spoke the truth. Here, I could be free. Here, I could be my own ruler.

No, a ruler of everything and everyone in this kingdom. And that's when I felt it.

Acceptance. Hunger. And devotion to this monstrous king.

“Okay. I’ll be your queen,” I whispered.

As if my words broke through an invisible wall, the ground trembled beneath us as if the very realm had been waiting for this bond, this union, to be forged.

A low, pleased purr rumbled from his chest while his tail thumped a drum beat on the floor and before I could brace myself, he claimed my mouth with a kiss that was brutally consuming, possessive, and tasted like the fire that surrounded this fortress.

I’d just made a deal with the devil.

3

PRINCESS ELOWEN

He told me he was called Draxus as he gripped my wrist in one of his massive, clawed hands while he led me down a long, twisting hall.

The castle was alive with strange sounds, the stone walls groaning as if the castle itself breathed and yearned to stay alive.

The heavy doors at the end of the corridor swung open as we approached, creaking on rusted hinges that sounded like the moans of the living dead.

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