Page 96 of Demonic Prince

“Obedient?” I repeat, trying to understand.

He strokes his hand over my neck. His thumb lingers in the hollow of my throat, where my pulse beats wildly. Maybe he’s about to choke me. I try to grab him, to push him back, but he’s so much stronger than me.

“Stop,” he commands.

I stop. “Get your fucking hand off me!”

“Silence.”

I’m silent. Words lodge in my throat. A dull headache throbs inside my skull.

“Never fight me again,” he murmurs.

I’m unable to reply. Tears burn my eyes before overflowing down my cheeks.

He doesn’t tell me to stop crying.

* * *

It’stradition to marry at dawn.

Morning sunlight creeps through the windows of the temple at Netherhaven, though it’s too weak to fight the everlasting gloom. Candles ooze wax as they burn. The bittersweet scent of incense clings to the air.

As I walk to my own wedding, my heart thumps a rhythm of dread. Two attendants drape me with a red veil that hides my face. They say nothing about the crescents of scars on my neck, the mark of a dragon’s bite. My wedding dress glistens with aellurium and the tears that fall like rain from beneath my veil.

Scaldric brings me to the altar as if I’m his sacrifice.

Where is Rook? How long did he wait for me at Hexfall? Midnight was hours ago. He should have ridden from the Thornwood to find me.

Unless he abandoned me. Unless I wasn’t worth saving.

A priestess approaches the altar. She’s carrying a bridal crown on a pillow. Silver for wealth and garnets for fertility.

I’m too numb to even be tempted by beautiful gems.

“Pyrah,” Scaldric says, catching my attention. “Marry me.”

To the priestess, it must sound like a lover’s murmur, but it’s a command. I can tell by the way the gown chills my skin when I resist the enchanted aellurium.

My head bows. Obedient. Ready for me to be crowned as Scaldric’s bride.

I don’t want him.

I try to whisper the words, to scream them, but my throat betrays me. With silent fury, I fight the enchantment that binds me. Kneeling on the cold marble of the temple floor, I grab the skirt of my gown. My hands crush fistfuls of silk.

He can’t force me to wear aellurium forever. Will he command me to strip naked for our wedding night? Or just fuck me in this dress?

Acid rises in my throat.

I lift my gaze to the priestess, my eyes pleading, but of course she can’t see me behind my red veil. She can’t save me. Only I can save myself.

Down on my knees, I twist my skirt in my fists. Tighter and tighter, until the threads of aellurium bite into my skin. The dragon inside me claws at the enchantment that cages me. I’m not strong enough to escape.

Despair sinks through me like a stone.

No. I’m not weak. I’ve saved myself before. I’ve survived.

The priestess looks to Scaldric first, as if I’m secondary in importance at our wedding. “Are you ready for your vows?”

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