his duty to fix her brokenness so she could present herself to the world as the Goddess-Born, infallible and strong and perfect.
My duty is to protect you—whatever the cost.
Nausea bubbled up her in chest as her understanding grew. Of course he felt obligated to take her pain away through physical pleasure. That’s exactly what she asked him to do last time, and it’s not like she had any expectations then beyond forgetting.
But this time . . . cheap and cold all over—that’s how his obligation made her feel now.
That familiar prickle cascaded over her bare shoulder blades as he came up behind her. She could feel his questioning stare, the loaded silence that hung heavy between them.
Her dutiful protector, even now. Sworn to keep her safe from everything—including her own foolish heart.
Netherworld take her. What if he thought he had to pleasure her?
A fresh wave of horror crashed over her as the implication sank in. What if, in some cruel twist, he now felt bound to her in the same way he had been bound to Ravenna?
Runes. Why didn’t she know any spells for disappearing? Suffocating shame slid down her throat, her chest tight and airless and—
“Beastie, look at me.” Gathering her courage, she met his unreadable gaze in the glass’s reflection. His voice held the ever-constant amused lilt, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability that made her throat clench. “If you think—”
“Goddess-Born?”
Stolas’s head snapped toward the voice with a booming snarl, his wings whooshing out and sending the swarm of fish behind the glass darting away. Grateful for the intrusion, Haven quickly straightened her dress as she followed his stare.
The queen waited near the entrance to the alcove, somehow managing to stay in place when most mortals would have already fled under Stolas’s foul mood. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she made out Stolas’s intimate position behind Haven, one hand fluttered to her neck.
Her miss-nothing gaze swept over Haven, lingering on her flushed chest and the parted slit of her dress—pushed high up on her thigh—before settling once again on Stolas.
Whatever she saw in his face caused her to blink—in surprise or something else, only the Goddess knew. “Eros has agreed to continue the meeting—unless I’ve caught you at a bad time?”
If only the queen knew how bad. Perhaps she did. She was mortal, not blind.
“No.” Shoulders back, Haven strolled toward the queen, somehow managing to school her expression into a bored smile. “We’re done here.”
The arch of the queen’s brow was just enough to hint at her suspicions, while the softness around her eyes said it was none of her business.
Still, Haven felt the quiet disapproval in the queen’s too-long stare as she led them away from the ballroom. A completely understandable reaction considering mortals only knew Stolas as the Lord of the Netherworld, the monstrous being who waited for them in death and delighted in their screams.
Not to mention every royal child taken to feed Ravenna during the Curse’s reign had been retrieved by Stolas. Mortals knew so little of the Noctis and their history. Most couldn’t distinguish between a Seraphian and a Golemite, and they certainly weren’t educated on the Darkshade court’s fall to Morgryth.
No matter the truth, the realm would always see him as Morgryth’s enforcer, not slave, a bloodthirsty creature as feared and reviled as the Shadeling.
Feeling anything other than disgust for someone like that—well, it had to seem strange to Neri. It certainly did to Haven.
You love a monster, and if you don’t know it yet, you will.
Bell had seen what she couldn’t. If only he could have also predicted that particular monster wouldn’t love her back. That he would see caring for her physical needs as his job—a job that took him away from his people, his kingdom, and his new life.
If he had simply wanted to sleep with her for pleasure . . . that her ego could have handled. It wouldn’t have been enough, not now knowing her true feelings for him.
But it wouldn’t have felt like having her guts ripped out either.
Stolas was silent as he followed behind them. The dutiful soldier, ready to do whatever it took to keep her safe. Distract the king at the first hint of her discomfort. Force her to eat. Kiss her breathless. Hold her as nightmares ravaged her mind.
Bed her whenever she was sad.
Anything to keep her on track as the Goddess she was supposed to be instead of the mortal she was.