Untouchable (Wolf Kings of Twilight Book 1), page 13
I suddenly find the dress too restricting and wish I could take it off so my lungs could take in a full breath of air. When Damon dips his head and starts to kiss the side of my neck, I inhale so sharply it hurts the back of my throat. And when he trails tiny kisses from the base of my neck to my temple, I naturally turn into him, seeking out his lips with my own, desperate to feel his mouth on mine again before I die from wanting him.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Hey, Damon, where did you—” Oliver cuts off his sentence when he catches us. “Sorry!” he quickly covers his eyes with one hand. “I’ll just be backing out now.”
Damon walks away from me and turns to face his friend.
“You might as well come in, Oliver,” he says irritably. “You’re worse than a cold bucket of water.”
A cold bucket of water would be wonderful right about now. Even a little fresh air would be welcomed.
“Um,” Oliver lowers his hand away from his face and cautiously looks between me and Damon, “I just needed to know where you wanted me to put the finish line. We never did decide.”
“Put it at the front of the castle. I doubt many of them will make it back, so we should be able to cull the herd quite a bit today.”
“Make it back?” I ask. “What is the first challenge?”
“A twenty-five-mile marathon through some pretty gnarly terrain,” Oliver tells me. “I’ll be surprised if anyone reaches the finish line.”
“Most will give up,” Damon agrees with a nod, “and that’s what I’m counting on. I told you I would find you someone strong enough to be a good husband and king. This will weed out the weak willed who view my job as simply sitting on the throne and yelling out edicts all day.”
“And have you ever ran so far?” I ask.
Damon smiles like he’s been caught in a lie. “No. I have not. But I did fight to the death to gain the throne. I think having them run is preferable to that, don’t you?”
He fought so hard to take the throne away from his father to save his people, yet he isn’t fighting to keep it. He’s giving it away with me as part of the prize package. Damon may think I’ll quietly go along with his plan, but he should know better. He needs a little motivation to realize he’s the strong man who should be standing by my side to protect Midnight. I can see that so clearly. Why can’t he?
“I suppose,” I say. “And you’re right. I need the strongest man here to be my husband. Whatever kid I have will be a handful, and I’ll need someone to help me raise him or her.”
“Hopefully, it’s a her so the kingdom can enjoy having a miniature version of you running around the corridors of the castle.”
Damon smiles at me. I smile back. Oliver clears his throat, presumably feeling like a third wheel.
“Yeah, so, I think I’ll be leaving now.” Oliver starts to back out the way he came in.
“Hold on,” Damon calls out. “We should all go out and wish the contestants good luck. Have you saddled my horse?”
“Yeah. We’re all ready,” Oliver says as he waits for us to join him.
“Saddled your horse for what? Where are you going?” I ask as we all walk out into the ballroom again.
“Someone needs to make sure there aren’t any cheaters,” Damon says. “You might be surprised how many of these lords and dukes will use underhanded tactics to win.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at all,” I reply. “In fact, I would be more surprised if some of them didn’t.”
Damon laughs. It’s deep and throaty, and I know I want to hear him do it more often.
When we make it to the entrance of the castle, I spy Anya standing with a group of women whispering about something. Our eyes meet and she suddenly presses her rosy, red lips together. It doesn’t take a genius to know she was gossiping about me to her friends. I turn my gaze away from her, knowing I’ve already made an enemy in the castle even though I did nothing to deserve her hatred.
Damon should have known better than to send her into my room to make sure I was presentable, but if I’ve learned anything from my years with Boris, I know sometimes men are completely clueless when it comes to the delicate relationships between women.
When we walk out of the castle, I see the throng of men waiting for the marathon to begin. Most all of them have shed their topcoats, vests, and cravats. Some of them are rolling up their sleeves and some of them are simply taking their shirts off.
“Gentlemen!” Damon shouts. “Are you ready?”
The crowd roars. I have a feeling the ones who do make it back won’t appear so energetic the next time I see them. Odds are they’ll be dragging themselves to the finish line.
“On your marks,” Damon yells. “Get set!” He pauses for added drama. “Go!”
Half the men take off running at full speed like idiots, while the others begin a steady jog, realizing it’s a marathon, not just a sprint to the finish line.
“Has anyone caught your eye yet?” Damon asks me.
“Yes.”
He looks at me in surprise. “Do tell. Can you point them out?”
I make sure I have Damon’s full attention. “Do I really need to?”
He grins, but it doesn’t last long before he looks away again.
“What you want will never happen, Ivy. The sooner you accept that the sooner you’ll be able to come to terms with what happens next.”
He seems so sure that his plan is for the best.
Well, we’ll see about that.
Chapter Twelve
Damon sets out on a large black stallion so he can follow the contestants during their first challenge. Oliver joins him as another pair of eyes to be on the lookout for any cheaters in the group. Edmond volunteers to “babysit” me while Damon is gone. Those were his words, not mine. I’m a grown woman who can take care of myself, but then again, trying to navigate my way back to my room in the castle probably wouldn’t go well, and I’d end up lost, wandering through the maze of corridors for the rest of the day.
As I follow Edmond back up the stairs to the second floor, I hear Anya giggle. I stop and look over my shoulder to see her and her friends watching me like vultures circling their next meal. When I catch them staring at me, they look away and begin to giggle again.
“Don’t mind them. They’re spoiled brats who have nothing better to do with their time except gossip.” Edmond’s words are so loud they practically echo in the entryway. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole castle heard him.
Without making a reply, I follow Edmond up the stairs. This time I create a mental map so I can find my way back to the front of the castle on my own.
“How long do you think the marathon will take?” I ask.
Edmond scratches his head but doesn’t slow his pace as he quietly calculates the answer.
“Oh, I would say it’ll take about five hours considering the route Damon chose for them. They’ll have to go through some difficult terrain.”
“What if no one comes back?” Hope lights my heart but Edmond’s laughter quickly extinguishes it.
“I’ve known some of those men since they were babies. We’ll have at least a few make it back here, even if it takes them all day. Don’t you worry, girlie, Damon will find you a husband before the week is out.”
But I don’t want any of those men I saw today. I want time to figure out what it is I feel for Damon. Is it just sexual attraction, or could my feelings be leading me to something more? I refuse to become another notch in his belt of sexual conquests, and I sure as hell won’t be a friend he gains benefits from like Lady Anya. She may believe she’s in love with Damon, but he made it crystal clear to me that the feeling isn’t mutual.
When we reach the familiar corridor where my room and Boris’s are located, I decide to sneak a peek inside his room to see if he’s still awake. I need his counsel now more than ever. Maybe he can help me sort through my feelings for the king of Midnight.
On the one hand, I’m mad at Damon for bringing me here just so he can pawn me off to the winner of his games. On the other hand, I’m thankful to be here and not in Dawn. Simon made it plain that I would become his and no one else’s. Truth be told, I wish the circumstances were switched and Damon had made such a declaration, but he seems bound and determined to hand me off like a shiny trophy to whomever wins his challenges.
When I crack Boris’s door open, I hear him snoring even though he’s in his wolf form. Without bothering to look inside, I close the door and follow Edmond to my room.
“I’m hungry and thirsty,” I tell him as we stand outside my bedroom door.
He instantly looks aggravated. “Why didn’t you mention that before we walked all the way up here?”
I shrug. “I just remembered I haven’t eaten anything since before I went to King Simon’s party.”
“I’ll have a servant bring you up some food,” he grumbles. “Now go to your room and wait. The last thing I need is for you to go running around the castle and getting lost before Damon comes back. He’ll have my hide if that happens.”
“Then maybe I should do it just to watch him skin you alive.”
Edmond purses his lips looking doubly annoyed with me.
I smile. “You really need to get a sense of humor. I was only joking.”
“I’m in no mood for jokes,” he grumbles but doesn’t expound on his thoughts any further.
“Why are you always so grumpy when you talk to me? Do you hate me that much?”
“I don’t know you well enough to hate you, girlie. What I hate is this whole situation. Damon seems to believe someone else will be better to rule his kingdom, but there’s no one better than him.”
“I know!” I say in total agreement. “That’s exactly what I told him downstairs.”
“You did?”
“You don’t have to look so surprised. Of course, I did.” I see a prime opportunity in front of me and I decide to pounce on it. “Why doesn’t Damon believe in himself? What happened to make him doubt his worthiness to remain king of Midnight?”
Edmond sighs. “It all goes back to his father. Reginald was a cruel man to most people, but especially to Damon. I think Reginald could see the good in Damon, so he did his best to beat it out of his son. The only problem with that is he hit Damon one too many times and simply made a man out of a boy at a very young age.”
“So Damon doesn’t believe he’s worthy to be king because his father didn’t believe he was strong enough to rule Midnight?”
Edmond shakes his head. “Damon doesn’t believe he’s worthy because of the way he took the throne.”
“But he did it to save his people.”
“Girlie, I know that, and you know that, and practically everyone in Midnight understands he did what he did for us. But until Damon forgives himself for killing his father, he’ll never feel like he’s worthy enough to wear the crown. Even then, it’ll be a blasted miracle if he even touches the thing.”
Now, Damon’s behavior makes sense.
“He didn’t want to kill his father, did he?” I ask it as a question, but it’s really more of a statement of fact.
“Of course not.” Edmond rubs his forehead back and forth with the tips of his fingers. “He may not have loved the man, but he was still his father. I think the last straw was when Reginald dragged Anya out into the sunlight.”
“He did what?” I ask in surprise. “Why would he do something so cruel?”
“To make a point.” Edmond drops his hand back to his side. “She and Damon were pretty hot and heavy back then, but the king didn’t want her condition being passed down to his own grandchildren. He did it to show Damon that she wasn’t worthy enough to be queen of Midnight and that any kids he had with her would be just as unfit to rule.”
“That’s horrible.” I cast my gaze to the floor. “No wonder she hates me. I’m everything she’ll never be. How will any of these people ever accept me as their queen?”
“Look at me,” Edmond requests in a gentle voice.
When I look into his eyes, I see an unexpected kindness in his expression for my plight.
“I know I’m a crusty old curmudgeon,” he admits with a self-effacing grin, “but I love Damon like he was my own son. I’ll be damned if I let him give up his life and his crown because of his misplaced guilt.” Edmond looks up and down the hallway. I assume to make sure no one else is listening to our conversation. “Do you care about Damon at all? Even just a smidge?”
I can’t lie. It’s not in my nature. “I do care about him.”
Edmond nods. “Good. Then it’s up to us to make him see reason. Are you up for the challenge, girlie?”
“I’ll help you if you stop calling me girlie,” I complain. “It’s a little demeaning.”
Edmond chuckles. “All right, Ivy. I’ll stop calling you that. All I ask is that you do what you can to make Damon understand he’s the one who should be standing by your side and not one of the other lords or dukes.”
I’m not sure how to ask my next question, so I simply blurt it out.
“Why doesn’t Damon want to have any children?”
Edmond looks surprised. “He told you that?”
“He admitted it in a moment of aggravation, but yes, he said he didn’t want any of his own.”
Edmond sighs heavily. “He’s probably afraid his father’s ghost will take over any son that’s born just to spite him.”
I stare at Edmond waiting for the punchline. He stares back at me waiting for my next question.
“Ghost?” I ask. “What is it with you people and ghosts in this castle? Damon said that was the reason his mother decided to live out in the woods. You don’t believe there are actual ghosts here, do you?”
“Of course not.” Edmond scoffs at the thought, but I can see doubt in his eyes.
“What have you seen?” It’s obvious he’s had some run-ins with the ghosts, but he acts reluctant to give voice to what he’s experienced personally.
“Nothing myself, but Oliver has seen things.”
I take a half step closer and cross my arms. “Such as?”
Again, Edmond looks up and down the hallway for any prying ears . . . or possibly nosy ghosts.
“He’s seen things move on their own,” he whispers. “It’s stuff that can’t be explained away easily.”
Oliver doesn’t seem like the type of man to make up stories, so I accept that he saw what he did, but to leap to the conclusion that it was caused by a ghost seems a bit much.
Edmond appears to decide our conversation has come to an end. He opens the door to my room for me.
“I suggest you get some rest,” he says in a kinder voice than before. “Do you want me to come get you when the runners approach the castle?”
I walk into my room and turn back around to face him.
“Yes, I would appreciate that.” My empty stomach grumbles.
“I’ll have one of the servants bring you something to eat and drink,” he says, obviously having heard my stomach growl. “Don’t forget what we agreed on concerning Damon.”
“I won’t.”
Satisfied with my promise, Edmond shuts the door.
I turn to face my sparsely furnished room. If I do become queen here, the first thing I’m going to do is give the castle a desperately needed make-over. Since King Reginald was notoriously money hungry, why didn’t he spend some of that wealth on furnishings for his home to show off his riches like most well-off people do? It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.
Unexpectedly, I let out a loud yawn and realize I’m still exhausted from everything that’s happened since Simon’s ball. I’m not sure how long it will take for my food to be brought up to me, but even a ten-minute nap will do my body good. I hop into bed finding it surprisingly comfortable. Considering the lack of décor in the room, I was prepared for it to be rock hard not soft and billowy. After snuggling up with the down-feathered pillow, I quickly fall asleep.
Sometime later, I’m startled awake, gasping for breath. My eyelids fly open, and I come face to face with a ghost staring down at me. All I can see of it is a shimmer of light, but I can definitely feel its hands around my throat. It stands at least six feet tall, and I can clearly make out the shape of a head and shoulders. Everything else is a blur, but I’m not sure if that’s how it actually appears or if my oxygen starved brain lacks the ability to put what I’m seeing into context.
There’s a knock on the door. The ghost jerks his head toward the sound. The next thing I hear is the shattering of dishes as they hit the floor, causing the ghost to disappear, like it was never even there.
I sit straight up in bed gasping for air and placing a hand on my bruised neck.
I look toward the doorway where a female servant is holding her hands over her face and shaking uncontrollably. The poor girl can’t be more than fifteen and the experience has left her in shambles.
“Did you see it?” I ask, my voice raspy as I jump out of bed and glance around the room, determined to figure out where the ghost went. Why was it trying to choke me in my sleep?
The servant bends down and starts to pick up the dishes and food she dropped on the floor.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, miss.” She continues to clean up her mess but refuses to meet my gaze.
“What do you mean you don’t know what I’m talking about?” I ask, dumbfounded by her unwillingness to discuss what we both saw. “You know you dropped the tray of food because you saw that ghost strangling me.”
The woman shakes her head vehemently. “I saw nothing, miss.”
I walk over and bend down in front of her. If I could touch the girl without killing her, I would shake the truth from her mouth.
“Why are you lying?” I demand.
The woman looks to the left, to the right, and behind her before she’s comfortable enough to answer my question.
“I don’t want to be its next target,” she whispers.
“Target? What do you mean?”
“If you talk about the ghost and he hears, he’ll visit you in your dreams.” She shakes her head and hurriedly finishes cleaning up her mess. “I don’t want King Reginald to visit me. He was cruel in life. He obviously hasn’t changed in death.”
