Crack!
Gray and red coated his vision, splattering the magnificent hall with fading colors. The iron prevented his skin from healing, the toxins leaking and spreading faster than his body could counter. His wounds lay agape, flaps of skin peeling away with each pull of the spikes. Spatters of blood and tissue stained the marble around the bench. Blood trickled over his sides, dripping from his waist and stomach.
He mustered enough strength to lift his head and dare aglance at Dagda. The King sat in his throne, his expression void of any and all emotion. His eyes swirled like the glow of the sun. His attention grazed Shaye before his head dropped, and he swore he caught a glimpse of remorse.
Crack!
Daeanna coaxed him closer, luring him with her sensual smile and lightly clothed body. He could clearly see the silhouette of her delicate frame, the pink of her nipples, smell the scent of her arousal. How could he deny her what she asked? She was a princess and a rare beauty. And she had eyes forhim.
“Shaye was a fool to deny me, but you are no fool, Thaddeus.” She teased his jaw with the tip of her nail. Thaddeus shook his head. “Good boy. I will take care of you, give you everything you want, everything you desire. I will unleash your potential, drive you to greatness. All I ask of you in return is for your loyalty to me. Do as I ask and you shall always have a place in my bed…”
Crack!
Another eve of being told who he would seduce to entertain her. Another eve of lowering himself to that of a sex slave to ensure his place in her affections. Another eve of degradation while he took one of her maids at her feet, imagining ’twas she he was inside…or simply away from. How much more would she force him to endure before she took him again?
’Twas at that time he should have realized how foolish he’d been. He should have left.
Crack!
Darkness began to slip into the periphery of his mind. The first tinge of blood seeped up his throat. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Feeling…
Feeling hurt.
Rori. Goddess, my sweet, beloved Rori.
Crack!
His knees slid in pooled blood. His legs failed him, slipping out from beneath him. He hung over the bench, held in place by the chained shackles alone. Those shackles abraded his wrists and strained his shoulders, what was left of them. His back had become numb, the iron severing nerves and scraping bone while he plundered the memories of how he’d come to be here, now, beneath the strikes of an iron whip, instead of holding his sweetanamcara.
He'd tried everything to win over a deceitful princess. Sacrificed his freedom, his will, and, in the end, never won her affection.
Then Rori appeared like a beaming light in all of his darkness. The heat to melt his ice. Her smile filled his tired soul with hope and joy. Her witty banter and wicked tongue kept him on his toes. Her fierce will to never give up and to fight for what she believed in.
How she tasted on his tongue. How she fit so perfectly against his body. How deceptively fragile she was in his arms, but could put fear in a man’s heart.
Lash after lash.
He no longer felt the rip and tear of the iron. He no longer possessed the strength to do anything but hang from the shackles and open himself to the encroaching blackness.
Rori, what I would give to be the man you deserve.
A breath sputtered from his lax lips, spraying blood over the bench.
Dusty emeralds, smoldering gems, gazed up at him from heavy-lidded eyes. Swollen with genuine adoration. Her delicate fingers traced over his face, a feather’s touch, coming to linger on his lips. He kissed her fingertips. His heart fluttered when she graced him with one of her lazyhalf-grins on a mouth still swollen and pink from his kisses and nibbles.
He swore his lips twitched upward in a contented smile.
“Rori.” A whisper. A final goodbye as blackness consumed him.
“I love you,” she murmured, her tender hands cupping his face. She glowed, a white halo around her entire body, the open sky endlessly blue and the field of flowers they stood amidst stretching on and on with no end in sight. ’Twas a field of peace and unhindered happiness.
She lifted to her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. So soft. So innocent. He wanted more, but she lowered to her heels and floated back, the distance growing further and further. He reached for her. Called her name, but no sound came. Her joyous laughter filled the air, her fiery hair blowing in the breeze. She was his most precious gift. His heart’s life and his soul’s desire.
“I will always love you, Faery man.”
He gave chase, trying to reach her, but she faded in the field of dancing flowers.
His light. His life. His salvation.
