Chapter 2

ChapterTwo

Greenbank was ugly at the best of times. But even uglier during the Love Festival.

Lust never understood why he had to make the rounds every year, other than to be an excuse for their celebrations. They always wanted the king to be present during the festival season, which was why each town had a different day to celebrate. They all enjoyed being around him, and it was the only time of the year that they saw him.

But he’d already been to sixteen different towns before reaching this one. And had three more to seek out after he was done here.

Lust, although he’d never admit it, was tired. Tired of people, tired of their foolish antics, and frankly tired of the show that never changed year over year.

Why was it that every town thought they had something new for him? Some new woman or man that would make his heart race in his chest or make his eyes light up with wonder. As if he hadn’t lived long enough to think every human was, frankly, the same.

He’d fucked every type of woman, man, and everything in between. He’d done it in every position, used every orifice, seen all the toys and the extras that could be brought into the bedroom. Did they think a thousand year old being could ever be surprised these days?

It made it rather difficult to be hard, if he was being honest. And he was the embodiment of lust! The king who ruled these lands and who could spread lust like pollen through the air, so he had to get himself together before he reached the fucking town or... or...

They rode past a young man and his wife. Dirt covered the wagon, and he thought there was perhaps a rather large amount of hay in it. He didn’t know what was considered a large amount these days. He could taste the young man’s lust immediately, the flavor bursting on his tongue. Acidic, earthy, like he’d put a handful of dirt in his mouth and then tried to chew.

But from the woman with him, cloaked in darkness, he felt... nothing.

Not a single spark of lust, or anything else, for that matter. Nothing.

Lust lifted his hand to rap it against the roof, letting his driver know to stop, but... no. He was wrong. There was too much to do today and not a chance in any of the seven kingdoms that she hadn’t felt lust as he drove by. It wasn’t possible. No one stayed in his kingdom unless they felt that emotion, or at least something. No one was so cold that their minds felt like dust.

He must have gotten the taste of her lust mixed up with her husband’s, that was all. He’d made a mistake, as he could do, because he was tired.

Blowing out another long breath, he tried to prepare himself for what waited for him in Greenbank. And in those preparations, he put aside the thoughts of dark eyes following the carriage, locking with his own as he rode by.

The town loomed around him before long. And he knew it wasn’t fair to call it looming. The buildings were well made, each a specific color designating the family that lived inside with intricate wooden patterns along the outsides. They stood on top of an emerald green hill that rolled like waves all the way down to the river beside it. Four houses had water wheels attached to them that lazily moved as the river passed by. He thought he remembered they were used for the paper mill here, as it was one of the few towns in his kingdom known for binding books.

Sitting up at that memory, he wondered if maybe today wouldn’t be such a waste. They weren’t the backwoods town he’d come from, even though the houses in Foxbridge had been just as fine.

His carriages halted in the center of town, which they had done up in their best fineries. Ribbons in all shades of purple hung from the rooftops and stretched to light poles above his head. They’d laid out an impressive swath of violet fabric that led up to the podium, where the mayor already waited for him.

Everyone had worn their best outfits. The men in their suits that were ill fitting but still of fine quality. Women in dresses with circle skirts that would whirl around them as they danced. He already knew their purpose. To reveal shapely thighs and secret shadows between them to the men that might chase them down later tonight.

He had business to attend to first. They all did. He’d listen to their mayor tell him all about their paper yields this year and how much money they had made. How they would send a certain amount to the castle, while keeping a certain amount for themselves. Of course, most of the gold would return home with Lust. There was a reason he brought so many carriages with him.

Sighing, he opened the door to his own carriage. No need to wait for the footman who stared up at him in shock.

He just wanted to get this over with and get home.

“My lord!” the mayor called out, stretching his arms wide as though an old friend had arrived. “We’ve been waiting for your return since last year with all the hopes of a good harvest. We are pleased to inform you this year has been our best yet!”

It was the same as every town. They all said it was their best yet until he started looking at their financial records and pointing out all the inconsistencies. Every year. It never changed.

Still, there were expectations, and he was loath to disappoint. “You know, Greenbank has always been my favorite to visit. The honor is mine.”

Cheers surged around him, as though he’d given them the best compliment they could have asked for and not that he said the same words to every town he went to.

How he had managed to keep up this farce as long as he had, he’d never know. His brothers didn’t pretend to enjoy their own kingdoms. But Lust had set a precedent, and he continued doing so year after damned year.

As the crowd continued to cheer, some of them already wearing the gleam of lust on their faces, he leaned close to the mayor. “We’ll see just how successful your town has been.”

“I would never lie to you, my lord. This has been a good year.” The mayor’s face had turned waxy and pale, though.

Lust snorted. “We’ll see. You shouldn’t lie so easily, Mayor, you’ll find it gets all too easy to spin tales. And you won’t like what I do when I find out the truth.”

The human gulped, his throat moving in a rather impressive bob before he gestured for Lust to follow him.

And so the games began.

It took the better part of the day to look over the mayor’s finances. Everything was a mess. All the documents were kept in individual folders, changes made to the margins, scratched out, and then rewritten in a hand that was almost illegible.

He had his brother’s voice in his head the whole time. “Why are you still doing all that work? Isn’t there someone in the kingdom who can do math as well as you? It’s just adding numbers, Lust. For fuck’s sake, there have to be better things for you to do.”

And the rub of it all was that there was. Plenty of better things, and people, for him to be doing rather than sitting in a dusty office that rarely saw use. Blowing out a breath, he watched the dust motes ascend into the air and glitter in the waning sunlight that sparkled through the fractured window behind him.

He’d run out of time. For the first time in years, he hadn’t finished surveying the books before he had to go out and perform at the festival.

Cursing, he stood up and stretched out the crick in his back. He reached for the jacket on the chair, intending for his suit to be completely done up when he went out, but... Well. There was no use for it, now was there?

He knew the festival would end with him wearing no shirt at all. Likely wearing nothing. They’d throw some young woman at him, a virgin, the damned things, or a whole group of women. Some towns would add a man in there for a bit of flavor to it all, but they did the same thing every year. The whole festival would turn into an orgy.

A boring, routine orgy.

Rubbing his hand down his face, he hissed out a long breath. He was tired, damn it. What he wouldn’t give for a cup of tea and a quiet evening.

He left his jacket behind. Let them pawn it off for a little extra money to pad these god awful books. Then maybe they’d be able to break even this year, let alone prove the glorious investment the mayor kept prattling on about.

Lust passed by a mirror and paused. He smoothed his hair down around the twin horns on top of his head. The blonde locks always tangled on the ribbed ridges, and it made him look... mussed. It made him look like himself, he assumed. Whatever they expected him to look like. But he’d rather look a little put together before they ruined the image.

“My lord.” His footman coughed into his hand. “They’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“I know.”

“There are four women this time.”

“So few?”

It took a bit for his footman to get his grin wrestled back to that nonplussed expression. “I had them whittle a few of them down. Said some of them were too young.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Seven kingdoms. He hoped they weren’t throwing children at him now. “Thank you for that. And everything else?”

“Exactly as you’d expect it.”

So there was food, too much wine. The people were already deep into their cups and already letting their inhibitions get the better of them. At this point, they didn’t even need him to be there. He missed the early days of taking this kingdom and watching humans bend to their lustful nature. He enjoyed watching them hate what they were doing and love it at the same time.

Now, they looked forward to him coming. Like they knew they could use him as an excuse to do whatever they wanted.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “And they’re all here?”

“Apparently, they were waiting for one young gentleman who hadn’t made it back from the market yet. Poor sod picked up some waif on the side of the road and broke a wagon wheel not a mile away from town. They walked the rest of the way with a horse that looks like a ghost beside them.”

“What a tale.” He couldn’t care less. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

He strode out of the mayor’s house and tossed on the persona of who he was. Should be. Usually was. It hadn’t been this difficult last year, had it?

His exhausted expression smoothed out into one of complete and utter confidence. He winked at the women as he passed by, ignoring their swoons and dramatic faints into the arms of their friends. The men gave him curt nods, their eyes already hungry as they looked for the woman who would be their enjoyment tonight. And, of course, there were a few heated stares in his direction as well. After all, he was made to appeal to everyone.

Though his eyes trailed over countless figures, he didn’t really see any of the people. They blended into his memory of all the humans he’d seen before and would see again. Nothing was new. It was all the same. The same pattern, the same fabric to make the same damned people.

A warm body collided with his own and gasps of horror echoed through the crowd. Not a light bump, either. Not the kind of collision that came from a young woman manipulating her way into his bed without the mayor’s permission.

She hurt. She connected her shoulder with the delicate side of his ribs as though she hadn’t seen him with the full force of her weight. It was not an easy bump. She struck him hard enough to make his ribs groan.

Letting out a sharp sound, she would have staggered backward and fallen if he hadn’t grabbed onto her.

Too late for him to not touch her. He knew what these women did when his hands were on them. They sometimes fainted, but most times they would still, and look up at him with those big, needy eyes, and he...

He did what they wanted. Lust might not have been a good man, but there were a few things he was very good at. He knew it wasn’t the same thing, but sometimes it was the only comfort he had.

She looked up at him, as expected, but her eyes widened in... shock? Disgust? Was that disgust he saw in her eyes?

It was the woman from the road, he realized. That dark gaze was like so many he’d seen before. But not the feel of her. He couldn’t sense even a lick of emotion. No burst of flavor on his tongue, not even a pinprick of desire or lust or... anything.

She was as vacant as a snowy field. Nothing between him and those dark eyes that saw right into his soul.

How was she doing that?

She wasn’t a particular beauty. Her dark hair had lovely waves in it, like obsidian glass, but he’d seen that color many times. He liked blondes anyway, so he could see an image of himself in them. Her skin was pale. Clearly she didn’t work in the fields much. He preferred freckles. She wore a cloak so he couldn’t see much of her body, only that moon-shaped face and wide, wide eyes.

His eyes dropped to her lips as she wet them. Crimson. Plush. Pretty, even he could admit that. And those lips twisted in revulsion.

Lust knew a challenge when he saw one. If she wasn’t attracted to him, that was fine. There were many men for her to choose from. But few looked at him like that. He uncapped the stopper he kept on his power, letting it leak out around them until all the surrounding people gasped and then moaned with pleasure. They knew what this feeling was. The lust that poured out of him was like he seduced every person in the town square without even looking at them.

She didn’t even flinch. The woman in his hands didn’t move at all. She stared up at him with a question in her eyes that he wasn’t certain he wanted to answer.

“Who are you?” he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“The beginning of something new,” she whispered. He could see something flicker in her eyes. Like she didn’t quite believe those words herself.

Then someone shouted his name. “Lust! My lord!” And he looked up for a brief moment.

It was enough for her to slip through his hands. He wasn’t holding her prisoner, or even that tightly, but he was surprised at the sudden lack of her.

He stared down at his empty hands for a moment, then turned to see her disappearing down a street. Dangerous, that. People were in the square for a reason. They wanted to participate in the festival, and he was careful to keep his influence to this area lest things get out of hand.

“Wait!” he called out, snarling under his breath at the damned audacity of the woman.

“My lord,” the voice called out again.

“Start without me!”

Lust charged after the fool who was going to get herself killed, or worse, only to find that she’d disappeared. He couldn’t find even a hint of her as he backtracked through every street and yet, somehow, she was gone. He even looked through a few windows, caught a few embarrassing sights—why would anyone treat a fruit the way that man was treating it—and couldn’t find her.

Until he stepped on a small scrap of fabric. Normally he wouldn’t have noticed, but he could smell her. Ice cold. Winter winds. The faintest hint of...

He stooped and picked up the small bit of dark cloth. Holding it to his nose, he inhaled deeply and finally figured out that last bit of her scent.

Peppermint.

So strange. Why had she run from him? And why couldn’t he feel anything from her other than cold indifference?

Footsteps clattered behind him. His footman, no doubt, was shocked that he’d leave a festival like the hounds of Wrath were on his heels.

“My lord,” the man said, wheezing from the short run. “What is... what is wrong?”

“Nothing.” He straightened, but his normally smooth brows had drawn together. “What do you make of this?”

He handed the scrap of fabric over without looking back. His eyes still watched the alley, wondering if she was still here. If she was watching him.

“Your hand,” his footman said. And which one was this? James? Jeremy? Jordan?

Lust looked down and saw a faint line of blood on his fingers. Not his, certainly. Hers?

Frowning, he pointed at the fabric imperiously.

His footman gulped and turned the piece over his hand. “It’s, um... Looks like it has the mark of the Tower, sir.”

“Silver Thread?” he asked, groaning. “Of course it would be Silver Thread. Ready my horses.”

“But, the festival... my lord?” he said the last bit in a question.

“I know there’s a fucking festival, Jeremiah.” He pulled at his hair, hating that he had to choose between duty and his own curiosity.

But he already knew which one was going to win.

Lust turned on his heel and stalked back toward the festival. “Are you coming or not?”

“Yes, my lord.” His footman bowed, but not before he heard, “Though it’s Jason, not Jeremiah.”