PROLOGUE
The Realm of Adwaeweth
1026 AA (After Alliance)
BANE OF ADWAEWETH ignored his instincts to dominate his woman—always he ignored his instincts—and rolled to his back, the expected position for an Adwaewethian male. Not just expected, but enforced by law.
Would the pleasure be greater on top? Bane had broached the subject with Meredith once, only once, but she’d had no interest, so he’d dropped it. Most days, he told himself he didn’t care. Some days he believed it.
Bathed in candlelight, Meredith rose to her knees, straddled him and sank down on his throbbing erection. The pleasure!
Head tipping backward, spine arching, Meredith moaned with rapture and began to ride him. Sweat glistened on her golden skin, and desire hooded her golden eyes. So beautiful. So strong and brave.
Meredith was the love of his life. Not too long ago, they’d recited vows in front of royals and peers alike, forever binding their futures. Only in death shall we part.
When she braced her hands on his calves and whipped her hips, his mind blanked...only to come back to life with a single thought. More. Releasing a strangled groan, he clasped her waist to control her motions. Up and down. Faster. Harder. Just the way she liked.
“Bane. It’s so good.” Short flaxen curls danced around her gorgeous face.
Harder still. Faster and faster. She loved his ferocity. But then, he’d always gravitated to warrior women. The ones courageous enough to rush into battle at his side.
Meredith offered more than physical resilience, though. A treasure inside and out, she had become his only refuge in a brutal, bloody eternity.
A shrill voice suddenly blasted through his mind. —Stop what you’re doing and come to Hivetta. Shirtless! I might as well enjoy the view as we discuss queendom business. And hurry!—
Bane jerked. Only one person ever communicated with him via telepathy. Queen Aveline the Great, chosen by fate and imbued with preternatural powers. My master and tormentor.
Like all queens and princesses in the ruling class, Aveline could speak telepathically with her people, heal swiftly and teleport; she also had a special power all her own: the ability to drain a life force with only a touch.
Meredith continued to ride him, unaware of his distraction.
He replied to the queen, I’m busy. Can this wait an hour? Foolish question. He knew Aveline well. They’d been childhood sweethearts, until the once kind and considerate royal had grown into a cruel and selfish queen. Now, her impatience knew no bounds. Or thirty—twenty—ten minutes, just ten.
He didn’t wish to leave his wife unsatisfied.
—You have five minutes. Fail to appear before me, and I’ll make your bride a widow. Ticktock.—
Aveline never uttered empty threats.
In his four centuries of life, Bane had watched six different princesses ascend to power. No matter how sweet the female, something dark and insidious always infected her during the coronation ceremony, a violent process known as the Blood Rite. Swirling golden runes would appear on her skin, an eternal brand that somehow torched anything good and right, creating an entitled, self-indulgent, intemperate entity with no moral compass.
“I’m sorry, love,” he grated, already losing his...edge. “I must go. The queen has commanded my presence.”
“What?” Meredith beat her fists against his chest. “You can’t leave me like this.”
“I won’t.” He reached between their bodies, pressed the pad of his thumb against her clitoris and brought her to a swift climax. As her inner walls squeezed his length, he gritted his teeth and wheeled her to the side, and withdrew from paradise. What remained of his pleasure dovetailed into agony. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, jumping from bed to wrangle his erection behind a pair of black leathers.
She sagged onto the mattress and grinned. “My poor baby. You’ll never fit that thing inside your pants.” The grin ebbed. With a tilt of her chin, she motioned to his shaft. “Aveline has the worst timing.”
“Aveline has the worst everything.”
Muffled voices drifted through the walls, a chorus of laughter following. Right now, Bane and Meredith lived in the army barracks next door to Hivetta, the royal palace, where jagged crystal walls were set in a honeycomb pattern.
Over the years, Hivetta had become the beating heart of the entire realm—and a prison rather than a home.
A few weeks ago, he’d purchased land outside city limits, where he’d begun building Meredith’s dream home. A place to raise their children, if ever they were blessed in such a way.
“When I return, we’ll pick up where we left off, and I’ll give you another orgasm.” He sat at the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.
“Unacceptable.” Meredith pressed her bare breasts against his back and rested her chin on his shoulder. “You’ll give me two orgasms—to start.”
He chuckled, though his amusement faded fast. A countdown clock had begun racing inside his head. Ticktock. Ticktock.
She ran his earlobe between her teeth. “If I could challenge Aveline on your behalf, and win, I would.”
“I know.” But, if she dared try, Bane would be forced to retaliate against her. Nothing broke the mystical bond between an Adwaewethian warrior and his queen, not even love for another.
A queen had absolute control over her men, as well as the beasts that lived inside them. Literal beasts who despised everything but death. A dark scourge the warriors battled physically, mentally and emotionally every minute of every day, with two exceptions. Sex, and the nearness of a royal.
Right on cue, a familiar roar of protest sounded inside his head. The beast didn’t like that he would soon be leaving a willing partner. Any partner. Beasts weren’t picky, and they were never satisfied.
I know the feeling. All his life, Bane had felt incomplete. He’d thought, hoped, his marriage would fix him, but...
More roars. Louder. Bane breathed deeply, filling his lungs in an effort to remain calm. Whenever a host lost control of his temper, he lost control period, the beast overtaking and changing him. He would grow in height and girth, horns sprouting from his head, spikes protruding from his spine, claws blooming at the ends of his fingers. Scales as hard as steel would cover his skin, and his teeth would sharpen into enameled daggers. He would kill with abandon and glee, the taste of blood ambrosial, screams of pain like music.
“What do you think Aveline the Greatly Terrible wants from you?” Meredith asked, drawing him from his musings.
Ticktock. “Most likely she’ll command me to murder someone who’s offended her.” And Bane would do it without hesitation. He would do anything she requested; no matter how despicable, her command was his duty. Physically, he couldn’t disobey her.