The warm air of the palace dungeon was damp with blood and tears, both belonging to the trembling man huddled against the far wall of his cell. Rennick’s footsteps echoed across the stone room, penetrating the silence.
Gilpin.
The man who’d touched Amelia peered through red-rimmed eyes, rightly terrified.
What about him did she like?
Rennick ground his teeth together, fighting against the knowledge of the pleasure this man gave his mate. She was Rennick’s to please, and no one else’s.
Gilpin spoke through sobs as he clutched the place where his dick used to be. “You can’t keep me here.”
Rennick’s lips pulled into an amused smile. “Is that so?” He squatted in front of the man, wondering if his looks pleased Amelia. He had sandy brown hair, light blue eyes, and fair skin. The opposite of Rennick.
“I’m not going to kill you,” he said calmly, cocking his head to the side. “But you will stay in this cell until my mate and I marry, and then you will work in our gold mines.”
“Y-your mate?” the man asked, bewildered.
Finn stood by quietly, not daring to speak. He didn’t agree with Rennick’s behavior, but he was loyal.
Rennick wasn’t a cruel man; he never had been. He was rational and level-headed, always thinking ten steps ahead, and the ability to rule came naturally to him. Everyone loved him, and he loved his kingdom. But Amelia meant more to him than his kingdom ever would, and if he had to dirty his soul to keep her, so be it.
“I don’t know what a mate is, and I’ve never met a fae before. You have the wrong guy!” Gilpin insisted.
Rennick clucked his tongue. “I saw you with Amelia.” His features contorted into ones of hate as he leaned closer. “I felt you fucking her.”
Gilpin gaped at him, shaking his head frantically as he tried to scoot back. “She’s a nice girl, but it wasn’t anything serious. She’s nothing to m—”
“She’s nothing?” Hot rage coursed through Rennick’s veins, and the man’s eyes widened as he shook his head again. “My mate is not nothing,” Rennick snarled. “She is everything.” In one swift move, he grabbed his dagger from its sheath at his waist and sliced Gilpin’s throat.
Finn cursed as Rennick stood slowly, wiping the blade on his pants. He’d been killing rebels since he was eighteen. Taking a life was nothing new.
Taking an innocent life was, but if it concerned his mate, he didn’t care how vicious he needed to be to protect her or their bond.
Turning his now blood-speckled face to his friend, he gestured toward the dead body. “Dispose of him and bring me his clothes.”
Letter #83
Hello, Love,
I wanted to let you know that your friend Gilpin is not avoiding you. He would come back again and again if I let him, but you are mine, little mate, just as I am yours. Do not ever forget that.
I’ve left you something as a reminder that I will do whatever it takes to keep you.
Don’t worry, it’s not my blood.
Viciously Yours,
Nick
P.S. Did you lose your necklace?
Amelia reached into the bag, closed her hand around crusty fabric, and pulled it out, discarding the bag on her bed.
“What the—?” It looked to be a pair of men’s pants covered in dried blood. Realizing what she held, she threw the garment on the ground, frantically wiping her hand on her dress.
After five minutes of trying not to pass out, she spread the pants out with her foot to find a hole cut in the fabric between the legs.
Not cut—ripped. Blood saturated the area around it.
“Don’t worry. It’s not my blood.”
She gasped and stumbled backward. Gilpin.
He’d not been at the bookstore for a few days, but no flags were raised, and no missing persons reports were made that she knew of. She thought he’d gone on a trip without telling her…
Her throat grew tight.
What did Nick do?
