The Dread King: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (The Harbinger Book 3) Page 6

  Or a bed. She did feel like napping right about now.

  After a few minutes, when she re-opened her eyes, a scarf hung on the wall nearest her. She inched closer, amending herself: not a scarf. More like a cape. A cape with grey fur around the neck area. Faith outstretched her hand, still cupping herself with her other, burying her fingers into its soft fabric.

  Was this real animal fur? Who the hell had something like this when it wasn’t Halloween? It’d make a perfect Jon Snow costume.

  “That is not yours,” a rough, scratchy voice rang out through the castle, the very same moment she decided she was going to take it and use it to cover up and dry.

  “Well,” she said after a moment of deliberation, staring hard at the wall before her, “seeing as how I’m naked, I’m going to borrow it anyway.” Faith’s fingers tightened on the grey fur. With a flourish, the cape was around her shoulders, giving her a semblance of privacy against the intruding voice. Her hair, she didn’t realize, wasn’t wet anymore. It was like she was never in the pool to begin with.

  The fur was so soft on her skin. She lifted her shoulders and rubbed her cheeks against it. Maybe she would keep this cape after all. It seemed to fit her flawlessly. Its length stopped just above her ankles.

  Hard breathing entered her ears, and Faith’s back straightened. She’d seen enough movies to know whoever the voice belonged to was directly behind her. Quiet footsteps, not so quiet breathing. She stared hard at the crumbling wall before her, not wanting to turn around. Not wanting to see him.

  “I told you I would find you,” the voice carried on, sending shivers down her spine. “It would seem this time, you found me.”

  “No,” she muttered. No, she didn’t seek him out. She didn’t want to find him.

  “Lying does not become you,” he murmured, stepping closer. She could feel the heat radiating off his thick body through the cloak. Suddenly she was not clothed enough, not nearly enough for this particular encounter.

  “You don’t know me.” Her voice was but a croak, weak in every way. How Faith hated showing weakness to the man behind her.

  “I know what I must.”

  A strong, scaled hand grabbed her wrist, turning her to face him. She was against the wall the next moment, pinned between the gothic structure and the Dracon of her nightmares. Was he always this tall, this wide? He was a bull of a man, and the curled horns upon his head were something else entirely. His black eyes fell to her body, the cape sliding to her sides, not doing much to cover her. She started to feel self-conscious, but within moments, she was lost in the metallicness of his almost pupil-less stare.

  “So soft and fleshy,” Dracyrus taunted her, giving her an evil half smile. “I do wonder how your kind has survived for so long. Just look at you…” The intimidating voice in her ears stopped for a moment, as if he were debating on what to say next. He finally whispered, “So weak, so pathetic. I have never respected the Harbinger’s name, but you do it a disservice.”

  Faith closed her eyes, pushing out the feeling of his scaled hand on her wrist, ignoring how her back hurt from being pinned to the wall so hard. Somewhere, sometime in the past, she’d heard these words before. But…for some reason, hearing them again hurt.

  “I never wanted this,” she whispered. “I was happy before. I don’t want to…to die.” When she lifted her eyelids, she found him gazing down intently. She knew what she said was foolish; no one wanted to die, at least no one who was comfortable in their life. Faith was—what? She liked her life before, but now, now she wasn’t so sure.

  “If this is your attempt to waver my resolve, it is a pointless endeavor.” His other hand went to her neck, above the fur on the cape, curling around her throat just tight enough to stifle her breath. Make it uncomfortable to breathe but not block the airway entirely. “You…want something from me.” He did not say it as a question, simply stating it as if it were fact. But Faith didn’t want anything from him.

  She didn’t.

  Did she?

  Dracyrus glanced behind him, smirking for a split-second. Faith could not see past his wide body to know what he smirked at, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “Ah, I see,” he said, shiny black eyes once again gazing steadily down at her. Without another word, he picked her up, a weightless doll in his arms, throwing her over his shoulder like she was a child needing to be spanked. He turned, and she finally saw just what had made him smirk.

  They weren’t in a castle, or near a pool. A fancy hotel room, with black and white wallpaper, furniture with glass knobs, and a bed with a canopy. The bed, its comforter a fuzzy white blanket, was what she focused most on.

  He threw her down, and she bounced gently, crawling away from the tall, imposing man standing at the foot of the bed. A stupid move, for she only ended up crawling towards the mountain of pillows near the headboard. She had nowhere to go and no weapons to defend herself with. She began to think this wasn’t going to end well, but as she thought it, she felt a strange, wanton urge involving him on top of her.

  Dracyrus dominating her.

  Faith froze, spinning so she sat propped up, gaze locking with his. He cut an intimidating figure, his features sharp and cruel, dotted with shiny white scales. His colorless hair and scales contrasted beautifully with his eyes—eyes currently roaming up her legs, stopping at the cape she held closed on her torso. The usual hatred and scorn in his expression was gone; something else had taken their place.

  Hunger. Desire.

  Did he…want her? The mere notion sent a chill up her spine. She was curious and thrilled and, to be honest, a bit anxious.

  “Take off my cloak,” he ordered.

  Faith knew she should argue, defy him, swear at him and fight him, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. There was not a single ounce in her body that wanted to fight him, so she slowly reached to her neck and pulled the string. Odd; she didn’t recall tying it so loosely, but it came undone quite easily nonetheless. It fell down her shoulders, laying in a heap of grey and black around her on the otherwise pristine bed.

  Dracyrus’s eyes moved up to her bare chest. It was the only thing he could see since she laid with her legs together. If he asked her to spread them next, she’d oblige without hesitation. What the hell had gotten into her? Her skin tingled at the thought.

  But he didn’t move or say anything else.

  She couldn’t wait. If he wasn’t going to take charge, she would.

  Crawling to her knees, she inched to the edge of the bed, where he stood, staring and scowling, and brought her hands to his neck. Faith drew her fingers along the hemline of his shirt. She undid the straps holding it together, sliding the shirt off his shoulders. She ran her flat palms across his chest. The number of muscles rippling beneath her touch—it was almost too much. Biting her lip, her hands grazed his nipples. They were pale things, not pink like hers. Scales dotted his skin. Smooth like a snake, somewhat rough if rubbed the wrong way.

  Faith let out a sigh as she inched closer. Since she knelt before him on the bed, she was only six or so inches shorter than his standing form. She buried her nose into his neck, inhaling him. He smelled like skin and power and fire. As she was lost in his scent, her arms snaked around his neck.

  “If you are trying to—” Dracyrus started, halting only when she moved a finger before his lips. They weren’t as rough as his voice or his scales. Smoother than everything, and she wanted those lips everywhere.

  “I want you,” she breathed out, stare creeping up to his horns. Had she touched them before? Faith couldn’t recall, but she went for them all the same. Hands curling around their base, she felt him tensing, heard his chest rumbling.

  An animalistic growl seeped from his mouth, and Dracyrus pushed her back onto the bed. This time, however, he crawled on with her, atop her. “You know nothing of what you toy with here,” he growled out, breathing out onto her neck.

  “Show me,” Faith whispered.

  He growled again, but he did not argue. Inste
ad he took his hands to her body, touching her for the first time. His hands could practically swallow her, and she wanted them to. His touch sent fire searing through her flesh, and she never felt more alive. She writhed beneath him as he took his face from her neck, prying her legs open, rubbing his hands up along her inner thighs.

  Had he ever seen a woman before? Were Humans so different from Dracons?

  His nose was inches from her as he murmured, “You…smell…” Dracyrus inhaled dramatically and loudly, staring up at her from between her legs. “…magnificent.”

  Magnificent? She couldn’t remember ever being called magnificent; it was definitely a description she could handle.

  Faith wanted him to taste her, to become intimately acquainted with every pink fold of her body, but she could only think about one thing: kissing him. She wanted to drown under him, to smother herself with his mouth and never again come up for air. She couldn’t wait anymore; she reached for his face, grabbing his cheeks, and even though she quite liked the look of him between her legs, she brought him up to her. Arching her back, she crashed her lips to his.

  It took him a moment to unfreeze, to get the hang of it, but when he did, he kissed her back. Hard and hungry, his chest rumbled with a low, guttural moan as she nipped at his bottom lip. It made sense he liked things a little rougher; on the scale of things, he was as rough as they came. Faith was more than okay with it. If he wanted rough, so did she. She wanted him more than she wanted anyone.

  Heat spread through her, her stomach flipping. The area between her legs burned with yearning; how badly she wanted him to fill her up. He was such a big man, large in every aspect, and she wondered if he would even fit inside of her. Would she be able to walk after? Such thoughts were thoughts for another time. All Faith could focus on was him, how his weight crashed down upon her, how he practically growled into her mouth as they kissed.

  After a while, Dracyrus pulled back. His fingers wound through her hair, tugging her head to the side, revealing her neck to him. Faith felt his lips on her collarbone, on the soft skin of her neck, and then—then he bit her.

  He bit her.

  Not hard, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make her cry out.

  He whispered a phrase when he released her neck, words Faith did not understand. Something in Dracon. She thought about asking him, but right now all she could focus on was the fact he still wore pants. It was a travesty. It had to be rectified. She would beg him if she had to.

  “Dracyrus,” Faith whispered, “take off your…” She tried to finish her sentence, but an uneasy feeling swept over her. The sight of Dracyrus above her started to fade in spite of how much she blinked and fought against it.

  The last thing she remembered was Dracyrus whispering a frantic “No” before the world around her faded to black.

  Chapter Eight

  Faith’s eyes flew open, and she stared hard at the cracked ceiling before abruptly sitting, pulling the sheets around her in an attempt to cover herself. She thought she was naked, in a pristine, high-roller hotel room, with the one man she shouldn’t want to be with.

  Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, her stomach churning with a sensation that was not all bad. Yes—just because she shouldn’t want to be with him didn’t mean she didn’t want to be with him, apparently. She was so weak. And terrible. She had three amazing guys pledged to her in every way, and her freaking mind had to betray her in the worst way.

  Luckily, she realized as she glanced around, she was not in the hotel room, nor was she with anyone. She was alone in the room belonging to Light and Cam’s mother, a bedroom that was as large as her room back in New York, though nowhere near as stuffed with useless shit like stuffed animals and pictures of her and Cara taped to her mirror.

  It was…a dream? Faith ran her hands through her hair, untangling what knots she could while mentally asking herself just what the hell was wrong with her. Why would she dream of all that? The Academy, the weird thing with Cam and Light in the pool, and then practically throwing herself at the Dread King—it was wrong in so many different ways. She could write an essay on the subject.

  Faith never understood the people who were all about sex. There were other things in life to focus on, better things, even. But now she started to wonder if she’d crossed over the line somewhere. Maybe when she agreed to what the guys proposed. Maybe when she first stepped foot into the Second. Maybe there was something in the air slowly driving her to a sex-crazed madness.

  Dreaming of Dracyrus was not what she was supposed to do. The very opposite. Faith was supposed to hate him unconditionally. And for the longest time, she did. She despised the mere thought of him, until she spent time with him in that weird, between place. The world of water. The moment she’d seen him, she knew she felt something other than hatred. At first she thought it was lust, but now she was in much deeper than that, wasn’t she?

  Pinned between the wall and his strong, wide body. Having him throw her over his shoulder, like she had no choice in the matter. Seeing his black, metallic eyes staring at her from between her legs. Oh, it was a turn on, somehow. It felt good, what little she did in her dream.

  But that’s it. It was just a dream. Nothing more. Just a fantasy her mind cooked up. It didn’t mean she was in love with the Dracon. No, she had Light, Jag, and Cam. And, when she wanted someone to bicker with, she had Finn. She didn’t feel anything as deep as love for Dracyrus. All her bases were covered.

  That’s what she told herself as she swung her legs off the bed. It’s what she repeated to herself as she stretched and slipped on her boots. She would tell herself this on repeat until…well, until further notice.

  Falling in love with her enemy, her arch nemesis, was out of the question.

  Faith found herself pursing her lips as she wandered out of the bedroom, finding Cam and Finn talking quietly in the kitchen area. She overheard Finn asking about Cam’s mother, if Cam was nervous to see her again. She thought about bursting in and making a scene, but her legs stopped. Finn actually sounded like he cared.

  The thought was a weird one, even weirder than her maybe-thing for Dracyrus: were Cam and Finn friends? She was startled to think it, though she did recall Finn talking a lot to Cam during the journey. At first she believed Finn only spent so much time talking to Cam because Light and Jag mocked him mercilessly, but now…now she wasn’t so certain.

  Friends. They couldn’t be. Who in their right mind would want to be friends with Finn? He was the biggest jackass of them all, the worst kind of asshole there was.

  After shaking off the stunned feeling, Faith stepped into the kitchen, going straight for the water bowl on the counter. The two continued to converse as if she wasn’t even there. Not that she expected fanfare or trumpets, but…

  “I haven’t seen her since before,” Cam spoke quietly, eyes averted to the corner of the room on the floor. He didn’t enjoy eye contact much, she’d noticed. “Before I was turned. Even before that, I left long before Light went into adolescence.”

  “I can’t imagine what it’s like,” Finn said, leaning back in his chair, legs spread. His hazel eyes were zeroed in on the Ulen in the room. For once, he wasn’t able to shoot Faith an exasperated or sly expression. He was oddly serious, like he was the previous night with her, until he ruined it by winking. “Everything you’ve ever known, taken from you. I can’t even pretend to understand what you went through.”

  Nodding once, Cam said, “You’re one of the few people I’ve ever met who’s grasped the fact you cannot know what it feels like unless you’ve lived it yourself. It’s a kind of torture I would not wish upon anyone.”

  That, Faith couldn’t keep silent on. She spun to face them, leaning her back on the counter. “Even the Dread King?”

  “There are some fates worse than death. What would it say of me if I wished anyone such a fate?” Cam’s cloudy amber gaze traveled to her for a split-second, though curiosity wasn’t what lingered in its hues. He already knew what it wou
ld make him: a monster.

  But wasn’t it precisely what Dracyrus was—a monster of his own? A tall, intimidating, evil Dracon who enjoyed all things involving war and revenge?

  Faith blinked, the image of Dracyrus standing at the foot of her bed rising to her mind. Her legs spread. How she pushed herself against him, basically tore off his shirt and ran her hands all over him. Like she was an animal. Like she couldn’t control herself.

  God, how embarrassing. She pushed the thought away. At least it was only a dream; at least she’d held back in the waterworld.

  “Some people,” Finn spoke, breaking into her thoughts, “deserve the worst the world can give them. Some people have done nothing but use others and throw everyone under the bus. I don’t know much about this Dread King, but if he’s as bad as everyone says he is, I think the fucker deserves it.”

  Cam would not hear it. “The world is not black and white. There are a million different shades of gray.”

  Faith couldn’t help herself. “Really? I thought there were only fifty.” She smiled, fighting herself. She didn’t want to laugh at her own joke, but it was kind of funny, wasn’t it?

  Cam’s brows creased softly while Finn cracked a smile and started to explain, “It’s an Earth thing. Movies that were all rough sex. I’m sure Faith watched them on repeat.” Ah, okay. The old Finn was back.

  She gave him a frown. “Hey, I take offense to that. They were books first.”

  “Right. Books.” At that, Finn laughed heartily, acting like it as funnier than her 50 Shades of Grey joke. “Wait a second. Does that mean you like the kinky stuff?” He wiggled his maroon brows. “I had no idea you were such a freak, Faith.”

  Blinking at him, she wanted to toss the entire contents of the water bowl at him, have a repeat of last night, but she resisted. Somehow.

  “You jest, but truly, no one is purely good or evil,” Cam spoke up, eyes back on the floor. “Everyone has the capability for both. Evil is in one’s nature, just as the capacity for good is. We are all capable of becoming our own worst enemy.”