Page 62 of The Maleficent Faerie
My heart is pounding frantically now. I’m neither as fast nor as strong as I used to be, and I have no magic. This was a bad plan—I shouldn’t have tried to use this randy Fae as a punching dummy.
Reehan knocks aside my next blow and catches me by the throat. He bears me down to the ground while the stalks of grass bend and crunch beneath me.
“You thought you could make a fool of me, Princess? You’ve been teasing and tempting me from the beginning. Don’t deny it. You can’t play the slut with a male and then turn him down, see? I’m going to show you what happens when little whores don’t follow through on their promises.”
This wouldn’t be the first time a man has tried to turn my “no” into a “yes.” I’ve always been able to extricate myself, by persuasion or by force. This time won’t be different. It won’t.
Reehan’s body weighs heavy against mine, surging with a Fae strength I can’t match. So I decide to try the truth.
“I wasn’t planning to seduce you,” I tell him. “I brought you out here because I’m angry, and I needed someone to fight.”
“You like to fight?” he hisses, gripping my face in his hand, squeezing my jaw. “You like to be forced? Is that how the King took you?”
I can barely speak through the pressure of his fingers. “Stop, Reehan. Your king won’t like this.”
“He’s weak. He can barely bring himself to punish anyone beyond a few chores and halfhearted blows.” Reehan scoffs. “He’ll think up some pathetic task for me as penance. Worry less about my punishment and more about yourself, love.” His other hand creeps over my breast, squeezing.
“I told you, I just wanted to spar a little—let me up, and we’ll talk about it.”
“Why are you denying your desire?” he whispers. “You liked it when I touched you last night. You danced for me—youwantedme, before he took you away.”
Reason isn’t working. I reach toward his face, my thumbs aimed for his eyes, but he reacts with terrifying speed and a burst of glittering light. The next second my wrists are wrapped tightly with grass stalks, shackled as surely as if he’d locked me into metal cuffs.
I open my mouth to scream, but he stuffs his fingers in, shoving them down my throat until I nearly choke. I can feel the brutal strength of his grip against the fragile bone of my jaw; he could so easily press down and break it.
Reehan inhales through his nose, long and deep. “I’m not full-blooded Fae, but I’ve got a little magic, including one of the old tricks from the home realm. I can smell arousal. I can taste it on the air. And you, Princess, are saying ‘yes’ to me by your scent.”
I’m not aroused because of him. Any lingering arousal is from riding in Malec’s arms.
“I’ll have to be quick.” Reehan’s free hand fumbles with the waistband of my leggings, and I buck my hips, kicking at him. Another burst of magic, and he has my ankles tethered with grass stalks as well.
The agony of helplessness floods my body. Braced over me, Reehan strokes his shaft a few times while I writhe under him. Hot tears leak from the corners of my eyes, searing my temples, soaking into my hair. When will Eonnula decide I’ve suffered enough?
I’m going to have to endure this. A few minutes, and it will be over. Just a few minutes of pain—I can do this—I can take it—
Reehan tugs my leggings down on one side, over my hip, keeping the fingers of his other hand jammed into my mouth. He leers at me and leans in. His forked tongue skates out, smearing wetly along my cheek.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Then—a squelchingcrunch.
More wetness, dribbling onto my face. Reehan’s fingers relax in my mouth, and his heavy hand slides away.
When I open my eyes, I scream.
There’s a giant black thorn sticking out of Reehan’s forehead, like the spike of some deformed unicorn.
Even for a Fae, there’s no healing from a wound like that.
Thorny vines lash around his body, yanking him backward, off me. Reehan’s magic evanesces from the grass stalks, and they release my wrists and ankles.
Malec stands amid the tall grass, his horned head savagely outlined against the orange sky. His hand is lifted, almost like a casual greeting, except the clawed fingers are hooked, rigid. His magic holds Reehan aloft, while more thorns coil around the blond Fae’s body. Blood drips between the vines, sprinkling the ground.
“My apologies if you wanted to fuck him,” says Malec coolly, “but it appeared as though he was forcing you.”
“He was.” I climb to my feet. My legs are shaking from the horror of what nearly happened and from the violence of Reehan’s death.
The Void King releases Reehan’s body, which crashes to the ground. A thornless vine forms in Malec’s hand, a leash by which he can drag the carcass.
