It was the first time Danika allowed herself to think of the fact that the king didn’t
enslave any of the people of Mombana except her. All of her people still had their
lives intact and normal.
She had sat and listened to everything that went on in court. The more she found
out all that about him, the more the bitterness in her heart for him seemed to
disappear, much to her own chagrin. She discovered that the hate that squeezed her
chest the first time she came into captivity was no longer there because, as days
passed, it was apparent that the king was not the monster she’d first thought him to be.
He was just a damaged man, broken. If he was ever a monster, he was the monster
her father created…for her. He was never that way with other people.
The last week had been relatively good for Danika. Sally was getting better. She
hadn’t seen much of the king’s wicked mistress. And they had stripped Karandy of his
post as the mine’s slave trainer after they flogged him.
Danika had only gone to the mine twice, and the new slave master called Korag
wasn’t particularly mean to her. He treated her like every other slave.
Life was being good to her. At least for now.
King Lucien was writing some fresh developments in the lower market to take to
the royal accountant on the morrow. The sun had been down for a while, and it was
relatively quiet for the night. But sleep eluded King Lucien as usual.
For the past week, he hadn’t been able to sleep as well as he did on that first night
with Danika. What was it about her? He’d asked himself countless times in the last
week.
Having tasted what a good sleep felt like, King Lucien wanted more and more of
that peaceful dreamless state, but he had done his best to make sure he didn’t summon
Danika for that.
How could the daughter of the man that took away his sleep become the reason for
his peaceful slumber after fifteen years?
The deities would never play such a cruel joke on him. The joke was too
expensive. Too merciless.
He’d summoned Vetta and took sexual pleasures from her body and even allowed
her to spend the night in his bed. He never slept.
While Vetta slept with the satisfaction of a stallion who lived in a beautiful stable,
he’d been wide awake like the birds of night, staring at the ceiling.
Everything was different: the pleasurable feeling he got from his mistress’s body,
the feel of her beside him on the bed, the feel of any part of her body touching his in
sleep. Everything felt different.
In the end, he’d left the bed and written his scrolls until morning.
Vetta had tried to get into bed from that day onwards, but he refused. He’d
summoned her two more times in the last week to take her on the table and sent her
away.
Last night, Chad’s sexsomnia had taken over him again. He’d woken him up from
a nightmare while pleasuring his body in the middle of the night. As usual, he’d
woken, taken his personal guard to the bathroom, and poured a bucket of cold water
on him. Chad woke with clear eyes, and the horror on his face was heartbreaking.
He’d panicked, but the king calmed him down. They were still looking for a cure for
him. The medicine man wasn’t having much luck finding one. But they would keep
trying.
Lucien was never letting Chad go. No matter how bad his sexsomnia got, he would
never let him go. Chad had been through hell, and the king was determined to help
him get better in any way he could. He’d given more funds to the medicine man to
keep searching far and wide for a cure.
Tonight, the king’s head was pounding. After a long day in court, he was
exhausted. Baski had made him potions as usual, but they only lessened the headache.
The restlessness and sleeplessness were there like marrow in his damaged bones.
“Chad,” he called out, at last, dropping the inked feather to his desk.
The door opened, and Chad entered. He bowed his head. “My king.”
Silence was all that met his greeting-a silence that stretched but one Chad was
used to. He stood patiently while the king sorted through his own head. Chad watched
him as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
“Tell Danika that I summon her,” he said at last.
Danika knocked on the king’s door with her heart hanging around her throat. She’d
been sleeping when Chad came to tell her that the king had summoned her. It was
almost midnight. The king wasn’t sleeping for him to summon her, and she wondered
if it was by choice this time around or if he couldn’t help it.
“Come in,” the command came through.
Danika opened the door and entered the familiar room, and her eyes found him
immediately. The king was seated behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with his
eyes closed.
“You summoned me, Master,” she whispered with her head bowed.
“Strip and get on the table,” he ordered, his eyes still closed.
Danika swallowed softly. She didn’t know how much she wanted to be in his arms
again until this very command. She was panicked because of the pain she knew was
on the way, but at the same time, it elated her knowing she would feel his arms
around her again.
But the table?
The elation in her heart died. He wouldn’t be touching her on the table; he’d only
be drawing his pleasure from her body.
Danika sneaked a peek at his face and saw the hard line of it, the angled set of his
jaw. This was a moment he wanted to remind them both of who they were. She was
the daughter of Cone, and he was the monster her father created.
Danika started undressing, from her flimsy corset down to her petticoat and
underthings. Finally, she stood naked in front of him. Then she walked to the hated
table and leaned into it, giving him her back.
Seconds passed. Then he got up from his chair. She heard footsteps behind her.
The rustle of clothing.
He closed in on her, his heat surrounding her, but he didn’t touch her. “What is it
about you, Danika?”