The Umbra King: Chapter 30

Lauren stepped through the office entrance to the sky room and held out a piece of paper to Rory. She grabbed it from the woman who was becoming her friend and scanned the words written in haste.

Rory both laughed and huffed with frustration. “Tell me again why the mighty king is keeping me locked in this sunny cage?”

Lauren shook her head. “Because he thinks you are a fragile bird.”

“I’m not a bird.” She tucked the paper into the book Caius had left beside the bed. “I’m a Seraphim-damned serial killer, and I am two seconds away from murdering him next.”

Lauren threw her head back with a laugh. “A fragile bird you are not.” Her voice took a serious turn. “Let him fuss over you in his own way, at least while you’re still recovering. If he’s still hovering when you’re back to normal, I’ll help you kill him myself.”

Rory eyed Lauren suspiciously. The Angel knew something about the king Rory didn’t, and if there was anything she hated more than being coddled, it was being left in the dark.

“The plus side of the ball being tonight is that there is no one in town, and your warden has given Sam and me the okay to take you out for dinner,” Lauren told her. “Get dressed. Sweats and a t-shirt will do since no one will see you.”

“He’ll allow me to walk through town but not down the stairs to the ball?” she asked incredulously.

“It isn’t the walking he’s worried about,” Lauren corrected. “It’s the people. Someone tried to kill you, and while I think it’s unfair to keep you from the celebration, his worries are valid.”

Rory grumbled as she changed out of her pajamas. She had comfortable sleep shorts and tank tops brought in from town, and since she didn’t leave her room all day, she never changed.

She slipped on the long, soft dress Bellina bought for the ball and left her hair down. She forewent the makeup because she hated taking it off at night.

“I said sweats and a t-shirt,” Lauren said, looking Rory up and down.

“Bellina bought this dress for tonight, and I’m going to wear it.” She refused to let it go to waste, and next Plenilune, she would get a more appropriate dress for the ball.

She sighed long and loud. “Lead the way, jailer.”

Lauren flipped her hair over her shoulder and opened the door. “You say that like I’m not actually your jailer.”

Sam grinned from the doorway. “She’s no more an inmate than you or I.”

His words piqued Rory’s interest because they were the farthest thing from the truth, and Sam didn’t lie. She studied the Angel carefully, and he lifted a blonde brow. “Why are you staring at me?”

She chuckled. He was incapable of lying because he was blind to all social cues. “I was admiring your flowing locks. What products do you use?”

Lauren barked out a laugh and looked at Sam knowingly. “Don’t say a word,” he warned, but it only made her grin wider.

“Smell his hair,” she said to Rory.

Rory hesitated for a second before turning to Sam. “Let me smell your hair.” She reached for a handful, but he pawed her hand away.

“You are not smelling my hair,” he replied, and shot Lauren a warning glare.

“He uses strawberry mango scented conditioner for dry hair,” she said in a sing-song voice, and once Rory was over the shock of it all, she bent over laughing so hard her eyes watered, ignoring the pain.

Sam crossed his massive arms and glared at Rory, who had her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath, and Lauren, who was grinning like a cat. “We are going to be late,” he said as he led them into the hallway.

Lauren motioned for Rory to follow as they both tried to hold in their laughter.

“Do they have potions at the pharmacy to heal my bruises and sore muscles?” Rory asked them as they walked through town.

“No,” Sam said a little too quickly, and Rory narrowed her eyes at him. He was lying, meaning he could lie, he was just terrible at it.

“You’re lying,” she accused, and turned to Lauren. “Tell me the truth, or I’ll be as difficult as mystically possible.”

Lauren’s lips pressed together as she side-eyed Sam, who shook his head. With a sigh, she said, “Yes.”

Rory stopped and stared at the two. “What the fuck? Why can’t I have some? I have—“ She held up her hands for finger quotes. “Unlimited credits, remember?”

“That is not our business to tell,” Sam said curtly.

“What does that mean?” Rory demanded. “Whose business is it?” Before she finished her sentence, she knew the answer. “Caius.”

Lauren and Sam were quiet, and Rory stalked off. “I’m going to the pharmacy, and if you try to stop me, I will break everything I can get my hands on.” Rory didn’t know what her own threat meant. Windows? Decorations? Bones? She spewed the first thing that came to mind, but she would keep her promise somehow.

They didn’t stop her, and when she pushed on the door, it didn’t budge. She whipped around and stared at them. “Open it.”

Sam shrugged with a smug look on his face. “Can’t. Everything is closed for the ball.”

Rory’s anger rose until she thought her head would explode, and she looked around, smiling, when she spotted a small sign advertising the specials of the café next door.

She grabbed it, against the protests of her muscles, and swung it as hard as she could against the glass door. Lauren jumped forward to stop her, but she was too late.

The glass shattered, and Rory used the sign to knock enough away to step through.

“For aether’s sake,” Sam said. “What is wrong with you?”

She lifted her hand above her head and gave him the universal sign for fuck you.

Moving her head side to side as she walked up and down the aisles, she spotted the healing section. “Bruises,” she read aloud and grabbed the bottle from the shelf. Ignoring the exasperated sighs of the others, she popped the lid and drained the bottle, not bothering to read the directions.

Gagging, she tossed the empty bottle to Sam, who begrudgingly caught it. She found one for surface wounds, chugged it, and tossed it to a pissed off Sam as she walked farther down the aisle. “Aha!” she said with a wicked grin as she grabbed a potion for muscle aches and drank it dry.

Without another word, she walked around them and toward the door as the potions worked their magic. Within minutes, her bruises faded, her cuts healed, and her body moved freely.

“We’re going back to the palace,” she informed them, leaving no room for argument.

Rory was too mad to go to the ball and slammed the door to her room open, but when she stormed inside, her steps faltered. Aside from the full moon and stars lighting up the ceiling, there was music playing from a small radio, and against the far wall sat a table with champagne, wine, and finger foods.

Caius, who was fixing his hair, stopped at the sound of her dramatic entrance, and his eyes ate her alive. When they made their way to her face, his mouth pulled into a half smile. “You are beautiful when you’re mad.” He crossed the room to where she stood. “I knew the ball was important to you, so I made you your own.”

She closed her mouth, but before she could say anything, Bellina, Max, Kit, Tallent, and Cat strolled through the door. “Are we late?” Cat asked. “You said six o’clock.”

Caius’ eyes moved to Sam and Lauren, who stood silently to the side. “You’re on time. Rory is early.”

Sam shook his head once and scratched his jaw. “I didn’t give them a choice,” Rory snapped, remembering why she was mad. She ignored the twinge in her chest at the thoughtfulness of the king. “Why did you keep the healing potions from me?”

Caius stepped back, but his gaze never left hers. “I think the rest of you should leave.”

To Rory’s surprise, they gave no argument as they slipped into the hallway and shut the bookshelf. “Well?” she demanded. “Did you enjoy seeing me in pain?”

Hurt flitted across his face. “Is that what you think?”

“What other reason could you possibly have?” she yelled, no longer able to rein in her temper. The potions had kicked in, and she felt no physical pain.

His face morphed to mirror hers, but where she lost control of her anger, he was unnervingly calm. “Had you taken the pain potion as prescribed, you wouldn’t have been in pain as long as you took it easy, and I needed you to stay put.”

Stay put? “What kind of bullshit is that? I’m not a bird to be kept in a cage.” She was furious. “Were you tired of seeing me minding my business around the palace and decided to lock me away?”

He laughed humorlessly. “Someone tried to kill you, Rory, or did you forget?” He closed the distance between them. “You will put yourself in danger time and again, and I can’t allow that to happen.”

His words shocked her, but the last part pissed her off. “You don’t have the power to allow me to do anything.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Fine. I can’t watch you do that.”

“Can’t, or don’t want to?” she shot back, still angry.

“I can’t,” he said softly. “I would set this entire realm ablaze to keep you safe, and if you think I’m bluffing, you haven’t been paying attention.”

“Let’s not jump to mass murder,” she said, holding a hand up. “I can take care of myself, and I promise you, I will look behind me before I bolt down a set of stairs again.”

His nonchalant shrug set her teeth on edge. “I meant what I said. You aren’t safe here, and it’s my fault. Let me protect you.”

“No,” she said flatly. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

He stepped closer without answering. “Dance with me.”

Her confusion was palpable. “Did you hit your head?”

“Dance with me, Aurora,” he said, his voice low.

Hearing him call her by her full name again made her feel things she didn’t want to acknowledge. It was only a month ago she was planning to seduce and murder him, and when he chased her through the gardens, something shifted between them.

Something they both tried to fight and failed miserably. She knew she could fall into him as easily as she forgave him. It wasn’t like her, and bit by bit she felt as though she was losing herself and finding herself all at once.

“Did I lose you?” he asked, breaking through her thoughts. His words had a double meaning, and they both knew it.

Instead of answering, she draped her arms around his neck, and he splayed one hand on her back, pulling her close enough to taste her breath, and every place their bodies touched burned in the best way.

As they swayed to the music, barely moving from their spot, he pulled her even closer and bent his head to rest on hers. No words were exchanged, not even as his hand moved lower and rested at the bottom of her spine.

“Do you want this?” he murmured, and she detected a hint of apprehension in his voice.

“No,” she whispered, and he tensed in her arms. “And yes.”

She felt him relax, and after placing a gentle kiss on her hair, he said, “It was inevitable. Your soul calls to mine and mine to yours. We couldn’t fight this if we tried.”

She pulled her head back and met his intense gaze. “You speak as though we are soulmates. I don’t love you, Caius, and if you love me, you fall in love too quickly.”

His throaty laugh made her stomach clench, and when his eyes returned to hers, they danced with amusement. “I don’t love you, but I want you. One way or another, you will be mine.”

Her brows drew together. “You’re speaking in riddles.”

He pulled her close again. “I know.”

She laid her head on his shoulder and let the music take her away. It was the least chaotic her life had been in some time, and she worried he was luring her into a false sense of calm.

She could feel his heart beating hard against his chest, and shadows curled through the air, moving against her skin in a sensual caress, and with each brush of nothingness, her body reacted.

The hand holding hers ran achingly slow down her arm to her side, skimming the side of her breast on its way to her hip. Her body craved him, and she pushed back, moving her hand to his chest.

The heat in his eyes made her breath hitch. “You’re quiet.”

“Do you miss my voice, Miss Raven?” he asked in a low timbre, making her shiver. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her ear. “I don’t think you could handle what is running through my mind.”

Her pussy throbbed, and she turned slightly, making her lips brush his cheek. “Maybe I can.”

He dropped his head to the crook of her neck and placed a feather-light kiss on her bare skin. “I’m wondering what your skin tastes like.” His warm tongue moved against her pulse. “Better than I imagined.”

Her breathing picked up, and she would have been embarrassed if she wasn’t turned on as he continued, “I’m remembering you in the garden as your knees gave out, and my name crossed your lips.”

His finger slipped under one of her cotton straps and slipped it off her shoulder. “I want to know what your pussy looks like when it’s wet and craving my touch.” She adjusted her stance, needing the friction. “Will your nipple pebble in my mouth, or is it already hard?”

He removed her other strap and tugged lightly. Her breasts were small and unable to hold up her loose top, and when it fell to her waist, Caius looked down and licked his lips. “Already hard, I see.”

“Touch me,” she begged, hating how much control he had over her. His thumb grazed the peak of her breast, and she moved closer for more contact.

“But what I can’t stop thinking about,” he said in a husky voice. “Is your mouth.”

With that, his hands grabbed the sides of her neck and tilted her head as he descended on her. She expected the kiss to be rough, but it was slow and sensual, and one of his hands slid to the back of her head, threading through her hair as the other on her throat squeezed ever so slightly.

His tongue was smooth as it moved with hers, and when he nipped at her bottom lip, a long moan escaped her. “There’s the sound I love,” he crooned, smiling against her lips.

He stepped back, motioning to her dress. “This has to go.” When the words left his mouth, shadows pulled the fabric to the ground, exposing her panties and sandals.

His eyes roamed her nearly naked form. “Come here,” he ordered, and while her self-respect demanded she resist, her body obeyed.

He kneeled in front of her to remove her sandals, and when he looked up at her, he grabbed the sides of her panties to ease them down. She smirked down at the king and said, “I enjoy seeing you on your knees, Your Grace.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he stood and moved to her dresser. When he returned, he held out a shift and signaled for her to hold her hands up. Her brows shot to her hairline as he slipped the nightgown over her head. Was this some sort of fantasy of his?

His fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt, and after he shrugged it off, he removed the rest of his clothes, save for his boxer briefs. Grabbing the corner of the bedding, he pulled it back and gestured for her to climb in. “Lie down.”

Once again, she obeyed. After tucking her in, he crawled in beside her, tucked her into his side, and sent a shadow to turn out the lights.

The music still played, and she waited for him to move his hand lower, but he only pulled her closer. “What are we doing?” she asked, trying to twist to see his face.

He kissed the back of her neck and said, “Sleeping.”

“The fuck we are,” she growled. Her body wriggled in his hold as she tried to sit up, but his arms tightened. “You can’t work me up and then tell me to sleep.”

She felt his smile against her neck and the erection against her ass, but he didn’t reply.

Reaching her arm back, she clutched his dick, making him jump. “I would love nothing more than to fuck you until you walk with a limp, but only this morning you were limping for a completely different reason.”

“I took a million different potions,” she protested. “There’s no pain anywhere in my body, unless you count the ache between my thighs.”

He laughed as his hand moved south. When he reached the bottom of her shift, his fingers moved like silk up her bare thigh, and she swore if he stopped, she would die.

His voice was rich when he whispered against her hair, “Is this what you want, Miss Raven?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

His finger reached her clit but surpassed it to slide through her arousal. He dug his head into her neck and made an animalistic sound. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

She moved against his hand, wanting him to touch her more, and he obliged by moving his fingers through her folds to circle her clit. His touch was feather light as he rubbed lazy circles, and she moved her hips for more pressure.

His other arm snaked under her, pinning her arms as his hand flattened across her hip to keep her still, and she whined. “I need more.”

“You need to rest,” he replied in a dark voice. “But you said your pussy ached, and I can’t have that.”

His fingers moved to her entrance, and one plunged inside while the heel of his palm ground against her clit, making her body jolt. Torturously slow, his finger moved in and out, curling toward her stomach to hit the sensitive spot there.

“Shit,” she panted as she tried to move her hips to no avail.

“Tell me,” Caius murmured. “When I stroke your sweet little cunt with my hand, do you wish it was my tongue or my dick in its place?”

Her nipples begged to be touched, and her clit demanded more pressure, but she could pacify neither in his hold. “What makes you think I don’t want your hand?”

He inserted another finger, and she gasped. Like the night in the gardens, this was torture. Her body hummed with need, and the buildup was so slow it was hard to stay still. She wanted to go in every direction, and her skin needed to be touched everywhere.

She was alight with anticipation as his fingers dragged in and out, his palm rubbed up and down her clit in the softest of ways, and his breath fanned across her face.

“No one likes the fingers best,” he answered with another smile. “The fingers remind your body of what it can have, but only deliver a fraction of what you need.”

He added a third finger, and she bucked. His fingers were large, and they stretched her as much as an average man would, only they curved. “Fuck,” she moaned.

“Which is it?” he asked again. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

His strokes picked up, and she almost cried with relief. “I want to come,” she begged. “I don’t care how.”

He hummed against her hair. “I do.” His movements slowed again.

“No,” she whimpered. “Inside of me,” she stammered through the torment. It didn’t hurt, but it was indescribable.

“Mmm,” he hummed again. “I can be inside you in a variety of ways. I’m inside you right now.” He pulled his index finger out and pushed his middle two fingers in as far as they would go, making her cry out.

She panted hard, and words evaded her. Not being able to move was frustrating; not being able to touch her breasts was frustrating; everything about the situation was frustrating, but she never wanted him to stop.

“Your—“ she tried to say what she craved, but couldn’t get the words out.

“My what, Miss Raven?” His fingers delved deep as they pumped.

“Cock,” she rushed. “I need it inside me now.”

“I want to fuck you,“ he said, emphasizing his meaning. “But I can’t do that when you are recovering.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

His fingers retracted from her body, and his other hand loosened its hold. Rory breathed a sigh of relief mixed with exasperation and immediately shot one hand to her breast and the other to her clit.

“None of that,” Caius reprimanded as shadows grabbed her arms and pulled them above her head. He rolled his body to hover over hers as his eyes roamed over her shift. He sat back, grabbed the neckline of her dress, and ripped it down the middle.

“I’ll go slowly this once,” he said. “But rest assured, the next time I have you naked, I will fuck you like the savage you are.”

Her eyes moved from his chest to his face, and it became clear. He knew who she was, completely, and he wanted her anyway. It was her biggest fear that those important to her would recoil at her true nature. She had friends, but they would never understand.

All she could do was nod, and something passed between them. Tonight, something would shift more than ever, and they both knew there was no turning back.

He lowered himself and aligned with her entrance. When he slid in, she stretched as they both moaned.

“Fuck,” Caius said hoarsely as Rory lifted her hips to meet his. He moved, and the feel of him inside her, on top of her, with her was a feeling like no other.

She reached for her breasts again, needing to give them the attention they’d demanded, but the shadows held fast.

“Tell me,” he commanded. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to touch me,” she whimpered.

“Where, Rory?”

Her name on his lips had her eyes turning to his again. Taunting her with the formal name was one thing, but hearing him call her by her familiar name was something else entirely. “Everywhere.”

His mouth pulled into a half grin. “Use your words.”

“My nipples,” she said finally. “I need you to touch my nipples.” She felt foolish when the words left her mouth, but she was rewarded with his hot tongue pulling her breast into his mouth.

The feeling of his mouth running across the sensitive skin was what she wanted, but she needed more. When he switched to the other side, she tossed her head back.

He was still moving in and out of her with long strokes when she said, “My clit. I need to touch my clit.”

He smiled against her skin and looked up. “Very good.” One of his large hands trailed down her stomach until it was where she wanted it. His thrusts came faster, working in tandem with his thumb.

Rory’s chest was heaving. “On top,” she said, stumbling over her words. “I want to ride you.”

“You’re a fast learner,” he praised, and she preened, loving what his words did to her. She was an independent woman, but here, with him, she was different.

He rolled them over and held her hips as she sat on her knees. “If you need me deeper, tell me.”

Nodding, she sank down, and her hands braced on his chest as he filled her, inch by glorious inch. It was cliché for an immortal king to be hung like a horse, but then again, he was blessed by the Seraphim.

Using her knees, she moved up and down. Feeling him drag against her inner muscles as he bottomed out was unreal. Again and again, his skin moved against hers. Up and down she went, but as her body caught fire with the first signs of an orgasm, she switched to moving back and forth, rubbing her clit against his pelvic bone.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped as his golden eyes watched her. His hands never left her hips when he thrust upward, driving deeper.

“Caius,” she moaned as she moved faster and he thrust harder, all reservations of treating her with fragility gone. He moved deep inside, and her breasts bounced with each thrust.

Her nipples were diamonds, and her stomach quivered as they moved faster. Her pussy began to spasm, and he cursed as his head pressed against the pillows. She felt his cock pulse, the sensation sending her over the edge.

Rory’s cries echoed through the large room as her body turned to jelly, and she lost the strength to hold herself up. Caius sat up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck for support as he moved her hips for her.

She was sensitive, and to feel him moving inside her still was euphoric.

He claimed her mouth, and as his body tightened, he buried his head into her neck and bit down, causing her to release a silent scream. His cum pumped forever as his cock released.

When they both stilled, he lifted her, slid her off his shaft, and set her on the floor.

Placing a kiss on her stomach, he stood and took her face in his hands. “You are beautiful when you come.”

“Don’t think you can tell me what to do outside of this bed,” she warned, making him smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She gave him a pointed look, and he added, “Anymore.”

She gave his cheek two pats and sauntered to the bathroom to clean up. When the water to the shower was warm, she peeked into the bedroom and crooked a finger at the king. “Come here.”