DON’T FORGETD
anika kept clutching and following him as they walked out of the royal court until he got to his chambers and walked into it.
Alone with her, he locked the door. He turned and faced her, more formidable than ever.
“Thank you so much f–” she began.
“To the table. Do not lie on it. Just give me your back,” he commanded in a curt voice, his expression darker than ever.
Danika did what he said, her body shaking with the adrenaline of what almost happened in the court—what he saved her from. She was all too grateful to do what he asked. She held the table with trembling hands and closed her eyes.
He came up behind her and worked his finger into her experimentally. He frowned harder because she was not wet—not even from all the erotic plays in the royal court.
Danika didn’t know where he produced the liquid she felt him stick into her and coat himself with. He never removed his clothes, and she was facing away from him so that she couldn’t see his erection or any part of him.
He started pushing into her, stretching her. She gritted her teeth and tightened her hands on the table. Then, he pulled back and shoved all the way into her, going deep and bottoming out completely.
Danika cried out in pain, and she clawed at the table. He covered her with his body and started plunging into her. The table rattled, and her body shook with the force of his thrusts. One hand pressed down on her hips, the other one curled into her hair, and she closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself for the pain that would come when he yanked at her hair.
But he didn’t. His body pilfered hers as he held her tight. He released her hair and snaked his hand to her breast. He squeezed hard, tweaking her nipple, and holding it in a grip that was almost painful… almost.
He angled his thrusts, taking deeper strokes inside her. He didn’t make a sound; her cries and the sound of skin slapping skin were the only sounds in the room.
He was restraining himself again. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it.
Danika didn’t know how the pain started abating as he continued. It still hurt, of course, but not as much as the night before.
Instead, she started feeling… she didn’t know what she felt.
It confused and scared her.
But before she could figure out what was wrong with her, he pulled out completely and turned away from her. He picked up the fabric from his wardrobe and threw it towards her.
“Get out!” he barked.
It was just like the previous night. He didn’t finish, Danika realised as she wrapped the fabric around herself.
Still, she didn’t forget to thank him. “Thank you so much…for what you did in court.”
“I didn’t do you any favors,” he snarled and turned away. “Don’t thank me, just get out.”
Just then, his door opened, and a woman entered like she owned the place. The woman was beautiful, and she was dressed extravagantly.
Danika didn’t know her, but the loathing that came from the woman’s face as she stared at her was enough to make her cringe.
This woman—whoever she was—hated her.
Then the woman glanced at King Lucien and faked a smile. “I knew you’d be needing me. That’s why I’m here.”
The woman walked past Danika and went to the table that Danika had just come from. She pulled her skirts up, and the king unbuckled himself, pulled his phallus out, and entered the woman.
“You’re welcomed to watch,” the woman drawled, giving Danika a smile filled with loathing.
Danika shook her head. Done dressing, with her head up, she walked out of the chambers. Once outside of the room, she leaned against the wall, her breath erratic. Her emotions were so jumbled, they confused her.
He helped her, and yet he didn’t want her thanks. He’d have sex with her, but he wouldn’t finish.
The king preferred to finish with his mistress, but not with Danika? Then why did he take her body at all? Was it just to hurt her or was there another reason?
Not giving herself time to dwell on it, Danika went to her room, wincing with each step.
Suddenly, she was so tired. Tired both physically and emotionally. She had gone through so much in one day.
She laid down on the bed and fell asleep.
Vetta was breathing hard, sweat pouring from her body. She tingled in places, and she hurt in places, too. Sweet, sweet pain. She laid languidly on the table and watched Lucien arrange himself.
You’d think they hadn’t just had mind-blowing sex. He didn’t look like a man who just used her body in every dirty way possible.
Vetta may have felt tired from the marathon, but she was furious. She’d heard of the incident in the royal court.
“Why didn’t you let her get introduced?” She asked what had been vexing her mind, making her restless.
“She wasn’t ready,” he stated, going to his work chair to take a seat on it.
“What!? None of us were ready when we were introduced! None of us!” She did her best to keep her anger in check.
Lucien just stared at her with an arched brow. “Are you saying something, Vetta?”
Vetta bit her lips hard. “No, my king.” She felt like pulling her hair out in frustration. Talking to him was like moving a brick wall. She took her time arranging her clothes. What got to her the most was the way he announced her as “his” to the royal court. He had never made such an announcement about her!
“You can’t think of her as human if you want to get revenge on her, my king. Her father never thought of us as that!” she let out.
Lucien opened the drawer of the table and withdrew new scrolls, then spread them out.
“I-I’m just thinking that you’re being too soft on her,” Vetta pushed on.
“She was overwhelmed. You weren’t there; you didn’t see her.” He didn’t spare her a glance.
“You should be happy about that! Celebrate a victory when she’s in that state! That’s what revenge is all about. Am I wrong?”
He finally looked at her. “I was her age when I was enslaved. I know what it feels like to feel overwhelmed by such a crowd and forced to do such a deed.”
“I also know what’s like to–”
“You have no idea what it’s like, Vetta,” he snapped. “You were born a slave; you grew up knowing slavery, and you knew no other life. It’s easier for you because you’ve been a lowborn since birth.”
Vetta felt like he’d slapped her with that blunt statement. But that’s Lucien. He didn’t talk much, and he never pulled punches with his words, either.
He continued. “She was royalty. She didn’t know a life like this until a week ago, and she wasn’t a pure-bred whore. I took her virginity on this bed last night. So, it was overwhelming, and she wasn’t ready.”
His eyes dismissed her, and he palmed his writing feather and inked it.
A virgin? Danika was royalty, and she, Vetta, was born a slave!?
Vetta took deep breaths to keep her anger in check and swallow the words she wanted to scream at him.
“She isn’t ready now. Does that mean you’ll agree to introduce her again another time? You know the kings will demand it.”
Lucien shrugged and started writing.
She needed vocal answers, dammit! “My king–”
“Get out, Vetta.” Softly spoken command, but deadly when delayed.
Vetta started out for the door, practically spitting fire. Then she stopped and turned.
“Don’t forget, my king. Don’t forget what you went through. What your people went through. What we went through. Don’t forget the death of your parents. Your pregnant little sister. Don’t forget Declan, my king. Don’t forget the things they made us do. Don’t forget Chad. Don’t forget little Remeta or Baski.” She opened the door. “Don’t forget who the enemy is. Who the daughter of the enemy is, like you were the son of your father. You didn’t deserve what they did to you, and so it’s fair.” She paused. “The day you put yourself in her shoes before you do anything else is the day you fail yourself and your revenge.”
Vetta waited for Lucien to support her words and express his anger.
“You won’t say anything!?” she fumed.
He raised cold and angry eyes at her. “Get. Out.” He didn’t shout. He never needed to.
She marched out in anger and rage. Vetta decided it was time to get her own revenge.