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The King radiated hard-edged beauty that made me gasp, his tall physique sculpted into one of virility and strength. Dark lashes crowned gray eyes, something dark flickering in them as they slithered over where I hid my breasts. His roaming gaze left a trail of pebbled skin down my belly, lower, until he lifted his hand—
I sucked in a sharp breath.
His fingers settled on mine, luring my hand from my crotch, holding it up in support as I climbed out. “Who sent you?”
My throat tightened. “Nobody sent me.”
“Do you think me a fool?”
I thought him a rude bastard. “My foot tangled in the mule’s harness, and the beast dragged me from Hemdale. I swear by Helfa the Allfather—”
He gripped my hair, yanking my face so close to his that I could taste the bite of drink that clung to his breath. “Who?”
“Helfa…” I whispered through trembling lips. “The god we pray to.”
“Mortals and their stories.” Liquor mingled with the scent of ash and snow as he peeled back his lips enough to bare white teeth. “You betray the god you were given and burn him at the stake, then you conjure up one of your own? If you need to swear, mortal, swear it on me. Swear it by your skin, your sweat, your scars.”
I nodded as much as his grip allowed, my scalp searing. “I swear it on all that.”
“Mortals swear a great many things, but few prove true.” He released his grip on my hair, only to let his fingers comb down along a strand. “Who do you think stands before you, little mortal?”
My chest curled when his thumb trailed along the swell of my breast. “The King of Flesh and Bone.”
A loud chuckle burst from his lungs. “Ah… am I a king now? Prove it.”
My eyes flicked up to him. “I don’t under—”
“Bow before your king, my little mortal. How about a curtsy? Did the mortal kings banish them from their courts, or am I undeserving of such etiquette?”
My veins heated under the scrutiny of his stare as I curtsied for the first time in my life. Naked.
“How lackluster, even for a whore,” he said, letting anger needle my skin. “How poor the state of your lands must be if you first run out of ale, then young virgins to lure me.”
The sensible part of me urged to stay quiet.
Though my pride silenced it when I slapped his hand away. “I am no whore!”
“Kneel!” His shout softened my knees until they caved and hit the hard ground, not moving an inch, no matter how I pulled, shifted, fought. Why couldn’t I move? “Shh, don’t struggle against my command. There… calm your heart.”
My muscles turned sluggish, as if disabled by some sort of magic, head lolling about as I strained my gaze to meet his. “Let me go.”
“And have you tell the rest of your kind how you entered my kingdom?”
“My father’s sick… maybe dying.”
“Of course he is. As are all mortals.” His cruel laugh matched the hard look in his eyes as he squatted to where I kneeled like a slave. “For example, I could still carry you outside and snap your neck, but, ah… what a waste of a fine servant it would be. So young and beautiful, tormenting me with need for your warmth.”
I frowned.
“Oh, you didn’t know? Do not remember how I touched you like this…” He palmed my cheek, his lips taking on a lopsided smirk when I tried to pull away but… couldn’t. “Every part of you, my little one, will serve me for eternity, starting with those lush lips. They will wrap around my length while I thrust against the back of your throat. And once you know the taste of my seed by heart, I will make every other orifice mine to play with. To fill and stretch until you quiver with need, begging me to allow you release.”
Against the weakness of my muscles, I straightened. “You can do all those things to me, but you’ll never hear me beg.”
“No?” There was a terrible twitch of his upper lip before his eyes slipped between my legs. “Your hand, mortal. Already touching yourself, your flesh heated by all the promises of how I will use you.” When my eyes dropped to where I quickly pulled my hand from my folds, shame gnawed at my core. Worse was how he chuckled, letting his thumb pad over my lower lip in play. “You will beg. And if you’re a good little mortal, I shall spend my seed with your flesh clenching around me. Now, now, don’t cry, Ada. You need yet more time to recover, for my hunger for your warmth is too great.”
Was I… crying?
Yes, I was, because he wiped a tear from my cheek and left. Each step of distance he brought between us returned strength to my muscles, yet I remained on my knees, listening to the quickening pound of my heart. Corpses in the corridors or not, I needed to get out of here.
I’d rather be a fool than his whore.