Page 18 of The Maleficent Faerie
“Normally you’d be right… except the tonic I took last night restored my natural healing power. I may be lacking magic, but I’m not helpless. Nor am I easy to kill.” He cocks his head, eyeing me. “You want me dead that badly?”
“You’re a menace to my Princess and my entire kingdom.”
He exhales, his blood-wet fingers flexing against my skin. “You think I am their destruction, little viper. But what if I am their salvation instead?”
“Now who’s lying?”
His lips tighten, and he lets out a slow breath through his teeth. His gaze travels down my body, to the ruined skirts of my gown. The dress ripped when he set me astride his Endling, then ripped more when I fought him. The bodice is limp and sagging, and since I’m larger-chested than Dawn, the neckline reveals more of my breasts than I’d like.
Carefully the Void King wipes his bloody hand on the front of my dress, his palm sweeping from my right breast to my left hip, then across my stomach. My flesh tingles with heat where he touched me.
He gathers a handful of my torn skirt and lifts it, bending so he can use it to wipe the blood from his newly-healed throat.
As he turns away, he gives a quick tug to the crotch of his pants, so quick I almost miss it. As if they have suddenly become too tight.
The next second one of his wings hits me in the face as he flares them casually. I cough, spitting out a loose feather that got in my mouth.
He did that on purpose. But as revenge goes, it was surprisingly mild.
He puts on his pauldron and leather chestpiece again, then circles me cautiously before unchaining my feet. I breathe a sigh of relief as the shackles fall away from my ankles.
The Void King’s talons trace the bare skin above my boot. “This footwear did strike me as an interesting choice for a princess. I should have guessed your identity from the moment you fought back.”
“So a princess can’t be a warrior?”
“Of course she can. It’s less likely when she’s the future Conduit, though.” He straightens, and I tense, preparing to deliver a roundhouse kick—but he grips the chain that’s still attached to the metal collar around my neck, and he yanks my head back at an awkward angle. “Think twice before you attack, viper.”
“Stop calling me that,” I spit.
“Shall I have you muzzled, Aura? Or can you promise not to bite me again?” His other hand curls over the top of one of my wings. If he expects me to be sensitive there, to fall prey to his touch, he’s a fool. My wings have never been sensitive to pain or pleasure.
“I can’t promise not to bite you,” I retort.
“If you had other resources besides your teeth and your fighting skills, you’d use them against me,” he murmurs. “Which means your magic is low, if not completely empty.” He chuckles, jerking at my neck chain. “How unfortunate for you. Come, trickster.”
On the way out of the tent he picks up his staff. I have to admit, he looks rather magnificent striding into the chilly pre-dawn gloom, with his four sharp horns, his billowing wings, and the tall staff in his hand. Two ravens flutter off a branch and fly to him instantly, one perching on his shoulder and the other on the green globe of his staff. My chain is wrapped once around his hand, and he tugs me along with an insolent triumph I find extremely aggravating. In contrast to his cool elegance, I must look feral, with my tangled hair, my bloodstained mouth, and my torn, ruined dress.
The Edge-Knights rise as we emerge from the tent. Judging by the wretched disappointment and fury on their faces, the news of my deception has already traveled through the whole camp. Hisses of “bitch,” “liar,” and “shit-eater” fill my ears.
When one of the human knights makes a foul comment about what he’d like to do to my lying mouth, with a vivid accompanying gesture, something in me snaps. I refuse to endure this quietly. I’ve had to prove myself to more than a few vulgar, arrogant men, and I know their language.
“I’ll gladly take your cock in my mouth,” I tell the knight sweetly. “And I’ll bite it off and swallow it too. I hear the Daenallan men like girls who swallow, yes? If you’re lucky, maybe a bigger one will grow in its place.”
A moment’s stunned silence—and then a few of the knights chuckle.
The one who made the gesture turns nearly as red as his hair. “You would choke on my dick,” he says defensively. “It’s big.”
“Show me.” I halt, and the Void King doesn’t pull on my chain. He waits.
“Go ahead, Vandel, show her.” One of the redhaired knight’s companions elbows him.
I blink my lashes and purr, “Yes, Vandel, show the Caennith bitch what she’s missing. Come on. Don’t be shy.”
The redhaired knight mutters an unintelligible excuse and retreats.
“Too bad.” I fake a pout and follow the Void King as he moves on through the camp.
He glances back at me once, and I could swear there’s a faint smirk curving his lips.
