The King(120)
He groaned. “That feels amazing.”
“I don’t think I’m doing anything.”
His hands briefly covered her own. “You are. More than you know.”
Selena continued the massage and thought of her own past. “As I said, I didn’t have a proper mother and father. I was raised with and by my sisters. I was needed to further the traditions, but I cannot say I was ever wanted by anyone. Claimed, as it were. So, in a way, I can imagine how you feel—bred but not born, as it were, because born implies you were hoped for, prayed for.”
He leaned his head back and stared up at her. “Yeah. That’s exactly it.”
She smiled at him and pushed him back into position.
“If my parents are killed, I feel like I’m going to go to hell,” he muttered.
“But you can’t be culpable in this, because you never consented.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You were promised when you were incapable of giving consent—indeed, it sounds as though they never even asked you. Therefore, your failure to perform, and any consequences thereto? They are your parents’ to claim, not yours. This is about you and yet has nothing to do with you.”
“God…”
When he didn’t finish, she frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be presumptuous.”
“You’re not. You’re … perfect.”
“Hardly.”
“I want to do something for you.”
She stilled. “What?”
Because she had some ideas.
“Something worthwhile.”
She eyed the fur rug she had been stretched out on. Oh, it would be worthwhile …
“But I keep coming up with nothing.”
Selena sighed. “Your presence is plenty.”
Trez put his hands over hers again and pulled her forward so that she was draped over his back. Holding her there, he put his head against her own.
As he breathed in, his great torso expanding, she was lifted from the floor and brought back down. “Thank you,” he said in a voice that cracked.
“I have done nothing.”
“You’ve made me feel like I’m not evil. And tonight, that’s everything.”
“Oh, you are never that,” she whispered as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Not you, not ever.”
Closing her eyes, she held on to him, and found herself becoming connected with him at the soul level. To the point where she didn’t know how to leave him. Not just tonight, but … whenever her destiny finally claimed her.
“Have you eaten?” he asked after a while.
“Actually … no.” Her stomach rumbled. “And I am hungry.”
“Let’s go downstairs. My brother was making some of his sauce—or at least, I assume so. He does that every time I have a headache.”
Selena relinquished her hold and went to ease back—
Without warning, her spine rebelled, the vertebrae locking into their position. Trez, on the other hand, got up easily enough—and as he extended his palm to help her up, she could only stare at it.
As confusion played over his handsome features, she figured she might as well accept the help. At this point, she was incapable of lifting herself off the floor.
“Slowly,” she said gruffly. “Please?”
Trez frowned, but was gentle as he lifted her to her feet. “Are you all right?”
She bought herself some time by making a production of tying her robe together. Meanwhile, her joints were screaming, particularly her hips and back.
Forcing a smile onto her face, she tried not to get spooked. But this was how it had started for her sisters. Each one of them.
“Shall we?” she said with determination.
Trez’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed even further. But then he shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just pull on some clothes.”
“I’ll wait in the hall.”
Through will alone, she made it across the bedroom and out into the corridor. By the time she closed the door behind her, she was choked of breath—
Instantly, her body experienced an internal shift of incredible power. In a way that meant only one thing: Someone was in her needing.
The queen? she thought with astonishment as she looked to the vaulted entrance of the First Family’s private quarters.
Now that would be momentous.
Easing back against the wall, she thought of massaging Trez’s shoulders and wished there was an equivalent for her own body. There was none. No cure, no slowing the disease.
No telling how long she had left.
THIRTY-SIX
Beth had no choice but to give herself up to her body’s roaring demands. And the only respite she got? Every time Wrath released into her, there was a brief reprieve—before the grinding need started its ascent once again.