A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #2)(74)

The first room was similar to the queen’s, with private sitting and eating areas and wide glass doors leading out to a veranda. Through a door in the side, a great bed sprawled out on a little dais. I ignored the lavish furniture in the rest of the room and took the two steps to the royal bed, as it were. He lay in the middle on his stomach, his arms spread out wide and the covers pulled down around his hips. His muscular and inked back was on full display, the scars of his wings cutting down each side in horrible slashes.

“Hey.” I shook his shoulder, noticing a fresh flower on the little table by the window and his clothes set out near the dressing table. His door had been opened by a man’s maid, or whatever they called the prince’s servant, and that person had left it unlocked, clearly. “Hey!”

I leaned over and pushed his shoulder, inhaling his balmy scent and feeling my heart flutter.

He groaned and turned his head, a golden eye peeling open and noticing me.

“Hmm. Dreams do come true.” He turned and grabbed me in a rush of movement, pulling me into the bed and pinning me beneath him. His lips captured mine before he licked along my bottom lip, trying to coax me to open for him. His hardness pushed against my apex, thick and delicious. He dragged it down before sliding it back up, rubbing me in a way that did not fit the moment.

“Hey!” I slapped his face.

“Hmm. Is that how you’d like it this morning, princess? Rough?” His kiss bruised my lips now, and his hips pumped aggressively. I’d forgotten that little issue with dragons—getting smacked around was foreplay to them.

“Stop, Nyfain!” I pushed at his shoulders.

He kissed me again, pushing my hands up above my head. “What?” he mumbled, trailing kisses beside my jaw and down my neck. “Why are you clothed, baby girl?”

Heat pounded in my core. His rubbing was making me delirious. His familiar and erotic scent was threatening to drag me under.

“Stop!” I said again, and this time I put power behind it. My animal rolled inside of me, shoving her own force through the bond, the equivalent of claws digging in. For once, she was on my side when it came to resisting him.

Nyfain pulled back, blinking his bleary eyes. He focused on my face for a moment before rolling to the side and sitting up.

“I apologize,” he said.

I crawled off the bed. “Someone from the village showed up just now, begging me to help her mother. I’m going. You’re coming, too.”

“What?” He pushed off the bed and straightened, a fresh slash trailing down his thigh. I hadn’t noticed it when I saw him last.

“Do you need—”

“No,” he cut me off, crossing to the clothes that had been laid out for him. “I attended to it myself last night. It’s nothing. What is this about a girl?”

I waited by the door and quickly relayed our encounter. He stepped into his jeans and then shook his head.

“The villages have their own way of doing things at this point. It is how things have evolved—or maybe devolved—throughout the curse. The throne used to delegate to the nobles, and they would work with the governing bodies of each village. Most of those groups were killed or have died from the sickness throughout the years, however. Not to mention I was shut out from the villages for a long time, and they clearly grew to like not having a ruler. I don’t have the resources to properly govern them all anymore. Or the military might to subdue them when they refuse my rule. I can only assert my influence through broad strokes, and lately, that has often turned into a fight. Basically, they’ll distribute the elixir to her family when they have enough.”

I widened my stance, white-hot rage rising within me. I opened my mouth to tell him what I thought of his comments, and of the villages leaving the poor to die, something sure to impact the whole kingdom, but instead I just snapped my mouth shut again.

I smirked without humor. “You don’t need military might when people are dying. You need a cure and brass lady balls. Luckily, I have both. Let your people die if you want. I will not. Try to stop me, and our battle won’t be sexual.”

I slammed the door shut behind me. A staff member in the hallway jumped and backed up to the wall. I walked by with a trail of power behind me.

“Finley, stop,” Nyfain called.

At the stairs, I jogged down. He caught up at the bottom and grabbed my arm, whipping me around. I let out a thrum of power, blasting into him. His hand ripped away and he staggered backward, his eyes widening. My animal stretched within me, just getting started.

Looks like our will can manifest into actual blows, she said, and I could feel her grin.

Or maybe I was the one who was grinning.

“Fuck with me when I’m trying to help people, Nyfain,” I snarled. “I dare you.”

He stopped dead, staring at me with a flat expression, surprise clear in the bond. This was probably unusual for some reason, but I didn’t stop to find out why. The blast of power had worked. I’d roll with it.

“Come on… What’s your name?” I asked the girl as I strutted toward the door.

“Dabnye.” Her eyes were as wide as Nyfain’s as she looked at him standing where I’d left him.

“Tell me your mother’s symptoms.”

With a last look at Nyfain, she turned and hurried after me.

As we crossed the grounds to the stables, I listened to her description of a sickness we all knew very well. Her mother was on the very edge, but she hadn’t been there for too long, it sounded like. Of course not—she hadn’t had the elixir to prolong the inevitable. She certainly didn’t have the crowded elixir to pull her back from death.