Instead, he had proven that he was an animal.
Now she wouldn’t look at him, and he didn’t blame her. He had to hold her tight because she refused to put her arms around his neck.
Cara was at the door to the tent and held it open as she eyed him. She looked at the pale female in his arms. Beck knew what she was seeing. She was looking with pity on the woman he had just married. He had treated her like a whore. Beck sighed inwardly. He avoided Cara’s eyes. He’d never treated a whore that way.
Beck laid her down as gently as he could on the bed that had been prepared for them. It was covered with thick, soft blankets and pillows. Flowers had been strewn—marigolds, St. John’s Wort, and shamrocks. It was a lovely setting and would have made a beautiful bridal bed. Instead, he’d shoved her to her knees in the middle of a bloody arena and throat-fucked her in front of a crowd.
He tried not to think about how soft and sweet she looked lying on the bed. There was nothing he wanted more than to climb into bed beside her and attempt in some way to make up for the way he had treated her. He wanted to kiss her and hold her. He wanted to tell her how much she was already coming to mean to him. He wanted to beg her forgiveness and promise to never, ever treat her that way again.
She wouldn’t believe him. He was obviously a man of no honor. He’d proven it in the arena today. If he had a shred of honor, he would walk away from her now. He could provide her with nothing but a dying brother and a ramshackle brugh on a meaningless plane of existence. He should allow Dante to take her to his plane. At least there she would be fed, clothed, and taken care of.
“Clean up.” His words were harsh to his own ears. “We leave in an hour.”
“Sire,” Cara blurted, looking startled. “Surely you cannot expect your bondmate to travel this evening.”
He stared down at the little gnome. He had been raised to be a king, and though he was no longer that man, he still expected to be obeyed without question. It had been bred into his character. A king never explained his actions, even when they were wrong. He was sure Cian would have knelt and explained himself to the small woman, but then, Cian would never have been in this mess in the first place. Cian would never have screwed up so badly with a woman that she couldn’t stand to look at him.
“If you have a problem with it, I’ll take her now,” he said softly.
The little gnome held her ground, but he could see it cost her. “No, Sire. I will make sure she is ready for the long and arduous journey.”
Beck strode to the door. He needed a bath, but he wouldn’t disturb hers. If things had gone as planned, he would have cleaned her up himself. He would have shown her how tender he could be. He would have eased into the hot tub with her, kissed her, and washed her hair.
“If she runs, I’ll hold you and yours personally responsible,” he growled. He was somewhat satisfied by her nervous nod.
The waning sunlight was still hot on his skin. That would change. He knew by nightfall the forest would be cold. If he took her out there, she would have no choice. She would have to cling to him for warmth and protection. Perhaps out in the forest she would begin to learn to trust him.
The former heir ignored those who called out greetings to him. He didn’t want to hear about his soon-to-be-legendary victory. The damn bards would be singing about it soon enough. They had no idea how close that victory had come to being a bloodbath. Only Meg’s sweet hand had stayed him, and she had paid for her interference. He left orders with the stable boy to get his horse ready then made his way to the river that ran near the marketplace. He tossed his shirt, boots, and trousers on the grass and dove in where he knew the water was deep and cold.
The chill hit his system like a bloody winter blast. He gritted his teeth against the bite of pain along his skin. He dove deep, refusing to come up for air or warmth. His lungs could handle it. He wrapped his hands around the strong reeds, anchoring himself to the bottom. It was quiet here. There was no incessant chatter. There was no one to constantly remind him of duties that were no longer his. They didn’t understand. He had been the deposed King of the Seelie for almost half his life now. Couldn’t they leave him be?
Beck watched a small school of fish swim by. The river was remarkably clear and lovely. It reminded him of the river that ran by the white palace in Tir na nÒg . His mother would take him, Cian, and their sister Bronwyn down, and she would sit with her ladies while they swam. Cian would splash their sister and tease her mercilessly, but Beck wasn’t able to join their fun. He was expected to act the king always.
“Eyes are always on you, son,” his father would say. “They expect Cian to act the fool, but you must be the warrior king every minute of your life.”
What would his father have thought of his actions this day? Would his father understand that life had dealt him a horrible set of cards and he’d played them the only way that made sense? Or would he turn away in shame? Beck rather thought it might be the latter.
All of his life he had been trained to ruthlessly hide the beast that lived inside him. His own mother had always told him that symbiotic twins were considered powerful, but everyone knew they were difficult to raise. The warrior half required balance to stop his violent nature from running wild. The intellectual half needed grounding or he spent his life in daydreams. It was only through bonding with a proper mate that the two halves could truly live balanced lives.
The bonding was a sacred act. It was a gift from the bondmate to her husbands. It was to be treasured and revered.
He had forced it on her when she didn’t even understand what she was accepting.
Finally his lungs burned, and he allowed himself to float toward the light. He broke the surface, taking a deep breath.
“I was wondering if you were going to put in an appearance or if you would allow the kelpies to take you.” Dante sat against a large tree, his long legs spread out in front of him. He had his tablet out and was playing with it. Beck knew Dante was very attached to his computer. He was constantly looking for downloads, better known as DLs. DLs consisted of everything from entertainment to education.
“There aren’t any kelpies here.” Beck smoothed his long, black hair from his face. “There are some kelpies in the forest, but none this close to a village.”
The forest where he was about to take his Meg was considered a bit dangerous. It was full of all sorts of nasty creatures.
Dante tossed him a bar of soap. It was pink. The vampire had probably stolen it from the females’ tent. Still, it would take the stink of battle off him. Beck soaped up, grateful for the cold. It was the first time since meeting Meg that he wasn’t uncomfortably hard.
Not true. There had been that moment after Meg had swallowed him down. Her throat had closed around him, and he’d shot his cum straight down. She’d taken every drop of him. Even after he was done, she had been so sweet and submissive. He’d wanted nothing more than to praise her for her gift to him. He’d wanted to haul her into his arms and fuck that sweet pussy of hers. She wouldn’t have said no. She would have spread her legs and welcomed her master.
She would have been terribly insulted. She was a lady, a bondmate. She deserved respect. His wants and needs were perverse. She would help him overcome them. Once he and Cian had properly bonded, the overwhelming need he felt to dominate his lovers during sex would go away. It had to.