The Queen of Traitors Page 36


My father was right when he said appearances are everything. Let the world believe the king and I are some odd love match. Better that than the messy truth—that I hate him every bit as much as I care for him.

When I break away from the kiss, I take the king’s hand. He’s all too willing to follow me away from the quickly dissolving circle of admirers. But not five seconds later, he tugs my hand and reels me back into him until my chest is pressed against his.

He gazes down at me with amusement. “My vicious little queen,” he says low enough so that only I can hear him, “you should know by now not to test me in public.” His voice becomes husky. “And you should definitely know by now how to give your husband a real kiss.”

I warn him with my eyes that I’m in no mood, but it does nothing to stop him from bending me backwards and taking my mouth with his own. In this position, nearly parallel to the ground, I’m at his mercy.

Wolf whistles and claps come from the crowd.

This is ridiculous.

I bite his tongue even as I grip his arms. He smiles against the pain. The psycho actually enjoys it when I get mean. He drags the kiss out longer than necessary, just to further push my breaking patience. Finally, with flourish, he pulls me back to my feet.

The crowd’s still cheering.

Montes waves and steers me out. The last glimpse I catch is of Estes. He lifts his glass in salute. And then the front door closes behind us and all the pretty people are gone.

Our shoes click down the steps of Estes’s estate.

“What did Estes say to you to put that expression on your face?” he asks as we descend the stairs.

“The truth.” Isn’t that what hurts us so much?

“My queen doesn’t run from the truth. She leaves only after she’s threatened someone. So what did he say?”

I push away from the king. “What does it matter to you? My business is my own.”

The king makes a noise low in his throat. I can hear him at my back. “Your business is anything but your own. It’s mine, and it’s our empire’s.”

Our car pulls up to the curb.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it,” I say, “but you don’t get to have everything, Montes. That includes knowledge.”

He grabs my arm and spins me so that I face him, and then he backs me up until he has me braced against the car. There are people out here. Not many—mostly just valets and guards, since the camera crews stayed behind—but we have onlookers all the same.

So much for appearances.

“You are very, very wrong.” I think this is the same tone he takes right before he ends someone’s life. His lips are a hairsbreadth from my own. “I do get to have all of you, whenever I want.” He grips my thigh, and it’s incredibly suggestive. “Even your conversations. Even your thoughts.”

Estes was right. Montes is nothing short of obsessed.

The king kisses me, and even that feels possessive, like he’s taking my lust along with everything else.

He hauls me away from the car and opens the door for me. “Everything you are is mine, and no threats of yours will ever change that.”

CHAPTER 19

Serenity

I WAKE UP in the middle of the night, clammy with sweat. If I close my eyes, I can still see the last moments of the dream—the blood, the shattered bones, the death throes of the mortally wounded.

I run a hand down my face. I’m used to nightmares; I have too many bad memories for my mind to prey upon. Tonight’s just reminded me of the abyss I’ve traveled down since war broke out.

The king stirs, and his arm goes around my stomach. He drags me against his chest, his fingers stroking my damp skin.

“It’s okay, my queen,” he murmurs against my hair. I’m not even sure he’s awake. “You’re safe now.”

Safety’s not what I crave, and no one can rescue me from my life. I wait until I’m sure Montes is asleep before I slip out of bed.

My demons ride me hard. I change as quietly as I can, and I pad out of the room and onto the balcony.

I swing one foot over the ledge, then the other. Once I’m standing on the outside of the balcony, my arms wrap around the railing behind me. I gaze out at the dark sea. The surf crashes, calling to me.

All at once, I let go of the railing.

I feel weightless for an instant, and then my feet meet grass. I clench my teeth as the impact sends a stabbing pain through my knees and abdomen.

I head towards the ocean, and the lawn gives away to sand. I scoop up a handful of it and let it run through my fingers. The lamps out here are few and far between, and the nearly full moon casts the edge of the garden in shades of blue. The king’s many guards patrol this place, but they’ve either made themselves scarce for the evening, or they blend in well. Either way, I can almost pretend that I’m alone.

Now that I have some small measure of privacy, I can finally settle my thoughts on things I’d rather keep from the king. I place a hand over my stomach. I’m dying, and not even Montes can stop it. I still vomit blood, my stomach still aches sharply. Whatever the Sleeper’s abilities are, I’m not sure they’re making things better for me.

I would’ve thought I’d be happy—it’s finally an end to this sad life of mine. I’ll return to the earth, just like everyone else I’ve loved.

But I’m not pleased about it.

“I’m sorry, Mom and Dad,” I whisper to the stars above me, “but I’m not ready to come home yet.”

I watch the sky. A cool evening breeze runs through my hair, beckoning me closer to the water. If I had it my way, I’d let the wind and the waves carry me far, far away.

I head over to the water and stick my toes in the sand.

“What are you doing out here this late?”

My spine stiffens at that voice, and I rotate.

Montes stands a few short feet away from me. He shouldn’t look as handsome as he does. Moonlight pools against his features, illuminating half of them and casting the other half in shadow. He wears only loose lounge pants, and I have to force myself from fixating on his torso.

“Enjoying the view,” I say, casting a brief look up at the stars.

“The one sleeping next to you wasn’t good enough?”

All I want is to be left alone. Not even in the deepest recesses of night am I allowed this. “Not everything is about you, Montes,” I say, weary.

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