To Collar a Queen, page 25
I pulled back and looked into Jo’s eyes. Her face was tear-streaked, and she looked exhausted. She shivered, and her gaze locked on to mine. “I’ll keep you safe, Jo. From everyone else, and from yourself. I’ll bring you back. Every time.”
A surge of emotion followed the words. A lump in my throat, which I forced down. What was wrong with me? I dragged my gaze from Jo to the rest of the room. Burdoch and my men all stared at Jo and me. Suddenly, my skin itched with the need to be alone—away from this place and the stench of blood and shit.
I caught the commander’s gaze. “Bring us a fast carriage. I need to get back to my residence as quickly as possible. Ensure the girls make it home safely.”
He saluted and started toward the door. I stopped him. “Once everyone’s out of this place, burn it with the bodies inside. None of them deserve to rest with Dara in the deep.”
Chapter Forty
Johanna
The next few hours passed in a fractured blur as stress and exhaustion finally caught up to me. I barely registered transitioning from the carriage to an unfamiliar home. Merrick’s home. Servants helped me to bathe, directed by Merrick, then dried me and helped me into a huge four-poster bed. Merrick fed me some kind of sweet berries from his hand, and for once, it felt like care and not a punishment. He brought bread and meat, but my eyes closed before I could eat any, and I slipped into the dead, dreamless slumber of pure exhaustion.
I awoke with night blanketing the windows, only a single oil lamp piercing the gloom. My head ached, and my mouth felt dry, my skin clammy. I clawed at the heavy blankets and sat up with a gasp, confused for a moment at the free movement. Where were the restraints? As my befuddled mind pieced it all together, a shape sat up beside me. I flinched back until Merrick’s deep voice said, “It’s okay, Jo. You’re safe.”
Safe. I tested the word. Was I? I was in Merrick’s house, the very place I’d gone to such lengths to avoid. But, as he reached over and offered me a cold glass of water, I couldn’t argue with the feeling of safety that draped over me, like sliding into a hot spring. He’d raised an army to protect me. Put aside an advantageous match for my sake. And—
I gasped as my memory kicked into gear. “Your father. Is he safe?”
His hand found my thigh in the dark, a strong, comforting weight. “Yes. My men arrived in time. They caught the assassin, and he’s joined the duchess in hell.”
I sighed and sunk back to the bed in relief. Merrick loved his father, just as I loved mine, and I’d endangered him. I’d lost myself, and Merrick had brought me back. I shivered as my mind ran over the edges of how the loss of control felt. It was different than the previous times I’d entered bloodlust. As I saw the duchess, walking to freedom after all she’d done, the rage took me by force. I’d acted on nothing but pure wild instinct, without a single rational thought, without a care for Merrick’s father or anyone else.
And I’d lost myself. I could replay, with the hazy softness of a dream, the swirling cloud of red rage that had trapped me. It had held me, cut off from thought, from reason, until Merrick brought me back. His voice—that deep, commanding voice—had coaxed me back to myself. I curled my body closer to him. “Thank Dara he’s safe.”
“She was looking out for us today. We owe her an offering. Tomorrow, I’ll take you swimming at the Mylai caves. You can select a jewel to give her in thanks, and we’ll dive to the buried statue. You can place it yourself.”
I rested my hand on his hard chest, hardly daring to believe his words. The golden statue of Dara, buried deep in the waters of the Mylai caves, was Valentia’s holiest artifact. I’d never thought to see it again. “We’ll dive there together?”
“Yes, but you need to sleep. I had my doctor take a look at you, and he prescribed nothing but rest and food. You’re exhausted.”
I sighed and stared at the shadow of the ceiling. My body did feel drained, but my mind whirled with too many thoughts to allow the possibility of sleep. Who would rule now? The duchess’s eldest, Annette. A thought struck me with a jolt, carrying with it a creeping dread. “Your marriage. Now the duchess is dead, you can go ahead with it. There’s nothing to stop you.”
I don’t know why it bothered me. Just because Merrick moved the world to rescue me didn’t mean I was anything beyond a possession. A valuable one that he wanted to keep, but still a possession. He had his life—the real one, the one that took place outside of his bedchamber—to consider. And now, that could include marrying a queen.
Merrick stayed silent so long I thought he’d decided not to answer. When he spoke, his voice had an odd quality. A little too casual. He slid his hand farther up my thigh, high enough that my body, though exhausted, began to ready for his touch. “I’m not going to marry her. After what we did to her mother, it doesn’t feel—” He broke off. “No. That’s not why. Not really.”
His fingers moved in idle circles on my sensitive skin, bringing forth a deep ache at my center, and he gave a little laugh. “I don’t want to marry her. I know it’s ridiculous. It would be stupid not to. But we’d need to make heirs, however distasteful she’d find it, and I—”
I’d tried to lay still as he worked through his thoughts, but his touch drove me to squirm. I shifted toward him as his finger slid up and down the apex of my thighs. My bare thighs. I hadn’t even given my nudity a second thought, so comfortable I’d grown with it, and with him.
His voice grew husky. “Well, I agree. She’s not the only one who would find it impossible.” He rose on one elbow to peer at my face. “Jo, I don’t want anyone besides you.” The desire in his voice touched my core. “The thought of being with anyone else revolts me. After you, everyone else pales in comparison.”
His fingers moved into my slit, parting me, sliding easily. I was soaked. He grazed my clit, and I gasped, still trying to process his words. Before I could speak, he continued. “I won’t let you go. You’re mine, forever. But I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy. We’ll talk more in the morning, but for now, you’re going to come for me, then go back to sleep. Understood?”
His voice had deepened, the rumble of command shivering through my bones. Still, I tried to argue. “But what will—”
His fingers stilled. “Quiet. You don’t argue with me in the bedchamber. Outside, in the daylight, I’ll let you speak freely. You can argue the sky is purple if you desire. But here, I’m your master. Is that clear?”
It was. I breathed in deep and gave in. Now relaxed, I spread my legs wider for him. For once, I didn’t have to fight. Didn’t have to think and plan and worry. Here, in the dark, I could give all that over to him. Hand him my control and enjoy it. He’d chosen me. Not out of spite, or to humiliate me, but because he wanted me and no one else. The knowledge warmed me as his clever fingers worked. I could take the pleasure he offered without guilt or shame. I was his, and he was mine.
Delicious tightness gathered in my belly. He leaned close, and his rich scent washed over me. I breathed it in. “Now. Come for me now, Jo.”
As if the words were a trigger, my body released, shooting me over the edge into a climax that had me clutching the sheets. The pleasure rolled out through my limbs, curled my toes, and drew a long moan from my lips. I lay, spent, as he pulled me against his chest. “That’s it. Now you’ll sleep. Good girl.”
As heaviness dragged my eyelids down, my thoughts spiraled. He’d been right. He’d known what I needed. He knew my body far better than I did. Contentment washed over me as I plummeted down into the depths of sleep.
Chapter Forty-One
Merrick
Two weeks later…
Annette sat opposite me, a cup of sweet chai matching mine clutched tight between her fingers. She tried to set it down, and it rattled against the saucer as her fingers shook. Some slopped over the side, a deep stain spreading across the white tablecloth, and she slammed it down hard, spilling the rest. “Fuck.”
She banged her hand against the table and got to her feet. A tall drinks cabinet stood at the side of the palace sitting room, incongruous against all the feminine frills and yellow fabric. She snatched out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, stomped back to the table, and sat down with a thump. She gestured to the bottle. “Better?”
I nodded and poured us each a hefty measure. She clearly needed it. She wore a plain black dress and no makeup. Deep shadows lay under her eyes, and she downed the shot of whiskey in one, closing her eyes as it went down. I sipped at mine.
My men and I had detailed the duchess’s misdeeds to Annette, the council, and the law. Though the auction house and bodies were destroyed in the fire, the rescued girls all told their stories, identified the duchess as the perpetrator, and helped us identify several more of her accomplices. Once the investigation started, it rolled forward with the force of a boulder, and papers came to light showing hundreds of illegal sales. I’d kept my mercenaries employed, both searching for Thomas and hunting down and dealing justice out to all the named buyers in the duchess’s records. They’d already rescued twenty-two human girls and three changelings.
Rescuing the slaves from their miserable situations helped ease the itch of guilt that had nagged at me ever since I’d seen the duchess’s auction house, and the touch of distaste that tinged the edges of my thoughts every time Elena spoke to me regarding my profits.
“They want to crown me in two weeks. I’m not…” Annette shook her head. “I’m still struggling to believe it. I knew she was into some bad stuff, but I’d never have guessed at all this. It’s…” She poured herself another drink.
“I’m sorry. It must be hard to take in. And I’m sorry for adding to the stress by breaking our engagement. I’m sure it hasn’t helped.”
She flicked a dismissive hand. “I honestly don’t give a shit about that right now. I’ve got bigger things to worry about. It was supposed to be years till I had to rule. Fucking years. And now they’re going to stick a crown on my head.” She looked at me, hollow eyes wide and panicked. “I can’t even get my head around her being gone. Part of me is relieved—shit, that must sound bad, I mean—”
“Don’t feel bad. She was a cruel woman. I’m sure you felt it.”
She toyed with her whiskey glass. “I don’t think she ever got over losing my brother. Dad said it changed her. And after he died, she just got worse.”
I nodded, sympathy gathering for the woman in front of me. My own childhood had been happy. I couldn’t imagine being raised by a monster like the duchess.
I took another drink and got down to business. “I can’t help with that, but I might be able to help with your other issue—preparing to rule. My idea is highly irregular, and you’d have to keep it between us.”
She sighed and set down her glass. “Interesting. Does it concern your recent purchase, by any chance?”
I smiled. “It does.”
Annette was sharp, smart, and cut straight through the bullshit. My instinct told me she’d make a great queen if she could get her rough edges filed down quickly enough. She’d have to delegate any tricky foreign diplomacy until then.
“Of course. Johanna is a changeling, but she retains all her memories and skills. She’s wasted as merely a pleasure slave. I’d like to offer you her services.” An amused smile drifted briefly across Annette’s tired face, and I quickly clarified, “As an adviser. She can help prepare you to rule, advise you in policy and the machinations of the court, and she’ll do it all without any agenda beyond seeing Valentia flourish. You couldn’t ask for a better ally.”
She frowned. “Really? She’ll warm your bed at night and advise the queen, in secret, by day? It seems a little far-fetched.”
I shrugged. “The offer is there. She’ll grow bored in my house without something important to do.”
Annette picked up the bottle of whiskey, studied it, then set it down unopened. She met my gaze. “You really think she’ll be able to help me?”
“I do. It’s what she trained her whole life for, and she loves it. She grows more frustrated every day away from the throne. It’ll work in your favor.”
Annette stared at the ceiling, then gave a decisive nod. “Fuck it. Let’s do it. When can I see her?”
“If it suits, she could receive you this evening?”
“Great. I’ll come to your residence at seven in an unmarked carriage. No sense giving the vultures any more fodder for gossip. They’ve got enough of that.”
“True.” I held up my hand, and she brushed her fingertips over mine. “I look forward to your visit.”
“Likewise.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Johanna
“Three in a row. You’re getting sloppy.” I laughed as I reset the bavaii board for a fourth game. My father and I sat together in the room Merrick called my parlor, though it was still far too male a space to deserve that name. Worn leather couches bracketed a low table, and though the staff had brought in fresh flowers and a few pretty throws, the dark wood paneling made it feel like a gentleman’s evening retreat. Merrick had suggested I redecorate—a concept so strange I hadn’t yet dared to make any requests.
My days had taken on a soothing rhythm. Once Merrick left for the institute, I visited my horses, grooming them under the supervision of the staff and the ever-present guards, then spent an hour with my new acrobatics instructor. In just a few days, I’d made incredible progress, my new body seeming made to cartwheel and flip.
In the afternoon, my father visited, and we passed the time with games and conversation. I was sure he’d been letting me win. I didn’t point it out, though. He only wanted to make me happy.
If I made an effort to ignore the collar at my throat and the guard by the door, I could almost pretend my father and I were back in the palace, amusing ourselves on a dull afternoon. Merrick never allowed the visits unsupervised. “Not because I don’t trust you,” he was quick to point out, “but because I don’t trust your father.”
And he was right to be suspicious. My father had slipped me three coded notes already detailing possible escape plans. I’d tried to tell him, through sharp glances and brief shakes of my head, that I didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t believe me. I could understand why. He still saw Merrick as a monster. The man who forced me into sexual servitude. And that side—that dark, brutal side of Merrick—was very real. But it wasn’t the whole of him. My rescue, and the delicate way he’d treated me as I recovered, proved that.
And more than that, he was my anchor. He’d pulled me back from bloodlust to humanity—or my changeling version of it anyway. His presence meant safety, knowing his deep voice could bring me back if I lost myself again.
My father frowned at the board. “I don’t fancy another game just yet. It’s giving me eye strain. One of the joys of getting old.”
“You need to wear your eye-glasses. I’m tired of telling you.”
“Yes, but they make me look old, which is worse.”
“Why?” I leaned forward. “Is there a lady you’re hoping to impress? Some daring widow?”
He smiled, and it warmed me through to my heart because it was a real smile, not the brittle, wary expression he’d been giving me since he started visiting. He was finally relaxing with me. Starting to see me as a person again, despite what he’d seen in the auction house. “I must say, Lady Wilcox looked rather lovely at the spring ball.”
I grinned back. “You should ask her to tea. Why not?”
He leaned back in his seat. “Why not indeed. I just might.”
The day slipped away, until a footman’s shout announced a carriage arriving. My father’s face darkened, and he shot to his feet, instantly tense. I sighed. “You don’t need to run away just because he’s back.”
“I’m afraid I do. I don’t want to jeopardize these visits, and I can’t trust my temper. I’ll return tomorrow.”
I hugged him. “See you then.”
The guard escorted my father out with a polite nod in my direction. All the household staff had been impeccably polite, no doubt at Merrick’s urging. I’d begun, slowly and anxiously, to settle into life here. I found it hard to trust the change—from life at the institute, to facing a miserable future of torture and death, to this. The changes had torn me in so many different directions, like a paper boat on a stormy sea, that I still wasn’t sure which way was up. I kept fearing I’d crest a wave and slide back down into a black future.
Fighting off the worries, I stood and found myself tidying my hair and smoothing down the stylish green dress I wore. Merrick liked me in green. Over half my outfits were in beautiful sea green or bright teal. I had two sets of outfits—one for when I visited with my father or spent time alone in the house, and another set for when he was home. The second set—delicate creations of silk and lace that enhanced, rather than covered, my skin—were no less beautiful.
The door swung open, and Merrick strode in, shutting it behind him with a decisive thunk. He glanced around the room with a frown. “I told you to add some of your own touches in here. Have you spoken with Melle yet?”
I shook my head, feeling oddly foolish. I’d been the damn queen. Why was I struggling to ask the head housekeeper to change the decor in a sitting room? The answer came straight away. Because I didn’t feel like I belonged here yet. It still didn’t feel like my real life.
Merrick seated himself on a chair and patted his knee. As always, two sides of me went to war. I wanted to go to him. My body yearned to curl up against his hard chest, breathe in his delicious scent, and enjoy whatever his wandering fingers would doubtless do to me.
And, more strangely, I wanted to talk to him. To tell him the gossip about my father’s crush and hear about his day. I wanted to ask to go riding and see if, this time, my favorite mare, Diamond, would beat his prized stallion, Richard, in a race. I wanted to relax and enjoy this new life, so close to the life I’d imagined when we courted, beyond a few minor details.
