30. black widow

30

black widow

Rivian

THREE HOURS EARLIER

"You called?"

Zharus enters my room upon my request as I loop my tie into place. I look up into the mirror in front of me to see his reflection as he walks toward me. I sense a modicum of diffidence as he approaches, which causes me to raise awareness. For what? I'm not sure yet.

"Yes. I want you to replace Travois as my Best Man today," I tell him, not stopping my movements and keeping my eyes focused in the mirror. I watch him as he shifts on his feet and seems to avoid my eye contact.

"That would be against Society tradition, Rivian," he states. It doesn't faze me that he doesn't immediately accept or deny. We both know what my reason is for wanting this change.

"You're not wrong, but you're also not right. Traditions were set in place by the first king of this Society. There is no rule that they were never to be changed. I am king now. And I want you up there, not Travois." I make my demand stick, not allowing him to try and talk his way out of it.

Zhar doesn't move, almost as if he's afraid to take my offer. I thought I might have found an immediate acceptance of my request. Instead, he seems rather put off by such.

I finally get my tie just right and turn around to face him.

"Is there a problem, Factotum?" I ask, wanting to gauge his reaction. Something foreboding trickles into the air, almost like he's hiding something from me.

He shakes his head politely before swallowing a lump, showing his hesitation.

"No, sir. I guess I'm just . . . I'm honored, of course." He gives me a small smile, but I can tell something doesn't sit well with him.

I let my gaze bore into him a little longer, trying to read his mind but there's a block. He notices my apprehension, his attempt to hide from me not doing very well.

"Zharus-" I start to ask him what's going on, but he interrupts me as he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

"Fine, fine. I visited… you know. I saw him again last night. I couldn't stand it. I know it's only been a day but…" I don't let my anger manifest on the count of not wanting to be in a horrible mood for my bride. I've already put her through enough the past few weeks and I'm giving her what she asked of me. Well, mostly. Though I will admit that even through Zharus' admission of disregarding my warning to him, I can't stop thinking about last night.

She took everything I gave her. The blush that crept up her skin as she came around my fingers. She was heavenly. But I felt something so fucking impermissible in that moment of pure ecstasy that I needed to get the hell out of there. All I've been able to think about since then is how I left her to her own devices while I hurried as far away from her as I could, feeling hunger and desire pound against my bones in agony. Fuck, she does me in and it's dangerous. So. Fucking. Dangerous. She’s a vice I can’t afford to have.

But I shake the thought, knowing I will have to face her soon. Right now, I have to deal with my ignorant excuse of a Factotum.

"I didn't mean to, but he was rather persuasive," Zharus says as he retreats into himself. I've never seen him be so vulnerable before, which causes me to want to take it easy on him.

"You have to know, I have no qualms with you trysting around. Even if it is with someone from the Society who is threatening to wage war. I am merely worried about what will happen if you get caught. Does your lover even know what's going on in his own Society? Does he not care enough about you to want you safe?" I realize my questions are a bit sentimental. But regardless of who I am, I do have a place for people who have had my back.

Zharus has been in my life since before I was born. His father and my father were best friends, so I'm told. And he was sworn in at the age of eight to be my Factotum. I watched him turn and he helped me through my own pain of turning. He was, in a way, like a big brother to me. But now, our dynamic has changed, only because of royalty status. Though I still care to protect him.

"He knows. I mean, I've been getting all my information from him but we love each other and . . . well, it's a relationship that would be frowned upon." I turn back around to adjust the chain in my pocket, wanting a bit of a distraction from what he's saying, only because I am curious about who his secret lover is, but I want to respect his boundaries at the same time.

That, and I don’t have time to analyze it further.

"Don't fuck this up, Zhar," I warn him. My tone stern and demanding. "I can't have you disobeying me and starting more problems all so you can get your dick wet. It looks bad." I know it's harsh. But as much as I want him to have his own private life, now is not the time to be slipping up. The other societies already claim to paint this kingdom in a weak light due to my marital status—which changes in a few hours—so I can't allow any more of my people to prove them right.

"Understood." He nods his head.

"Now, have our guests arrived?" I pull at the cuffs of my button-up, flattening them out.

"I know the twins made their visit earlier this morning, but I also know that they were denied entry. Viktrum's guard accepted the invitations. That is all I know."

After Trav's confession, I knew this was my chance. I'd known all along that our former queen had to have been alive. I felt it in my gut despite her trace having gone cold, I just needed a way to make her want to show herself. And Travois confirmed my suspicions. She was now a Valor Cove Nocturne. The news wasn't as shocking to me but to know the extent of which she went through to secure her place, to hide from this kingdom, did kind of catch me off guard.

I knew she ran away. Some believed she was kidnapped but I saw her packing her bags twenty years ago. I was walking through the halls, on the way to my own room when I caught a glimpse of my step-mother slamming things into a suitcase, frantic.

The whole castle knew my father was an old, bitter man. But he was more than that to me. But I can’t for the life of me figure out why she would have wanted to flee from her life, leaving the twins behind the first time and then running again for a second. Maybe she really didn't want to be here.

But my mother did.

Now, her existence is clear and pretty much out in the open, I have to act before she retreats again. The only problem is, if she won't accept an invite from her own kids, how am I supposed to lure her back into her old kingdom so that we can have a friendly face-to-face.

I hold my own stare in the reflection of the mirror. I've worked hard for this day. I know my time has come. I don't want to break her heart, but she has to know what it feels like to want revenge so viscerally that it consumes you. She's been abused the same as I. And maybe she'll forgive me for this one day. Besides, after today we'll have forever. Maybe.

Lucynda has been the object of my forbidden desires for quite some time now and I can't deny that I am so absolutely destroyed by the little siren. But I made a promise to myself and the one I love most. And I know that my true ticket to my act of vengeance will be my wife.

THE WEDDING

A black widow.

Venomous and dark, but the appeal of her danger is what draws out the beauty that captures eyes. Once she's got you trapped in her web, she sucks the life out of your soul and uses you for her own gratification.

Lucynda Draven Claire is a fucking black widow.

Cyn walks out from behind the curtain; our entire guest list stands and stares. Not because she's my soon-to-be wife, but because they are just as fucking mesmerized by her as I am.

She's wearing a black dress. She’s a devastating deviant for it and the cynical smirk displayed on her perfectly wine-stained lips is the tell that she knows she’s bad.

Her eyes find mine as she walks down the aisle, the music fades and the background blurs. All I can see is her.

I've felt this undeniable tether to her all along. Since the day I made her worthless piece of shit father take his last breath. When I paved the way for her to live within arms reach of me. Then I soothed every single one of her panic attacks with my voice, filling her head with promise that everything will be okay. From the day I realized that she is my cage and I can't escape her. Even if I plan to break her heart.

I fear I've taken my obsession a little too far by allowing myself the luxury of what she feels like, what she tastes like when she comes and how her voice cries out my name. I wasn't supposed to give in like that. I wasn't supposed to care about her. But looking at her now, her winter white hair, the silver glow in her doe eyes, the pout on her lips—God, how fucking sweet they would be wrapped around my cock—and the fucking black dress.

A pure sin it is to be tethered to her.

I can't help my eyes when they feel hungry just from looking at her. And I don't stop the carnal change in them, the whole fucking room can see it happening and I should be cautious of letting my cards show too much. But fuck it. Let them see. She is fucking mine and I won't let anyone forget that, even if I know the end of this will inevitably, possibly, shatter her to pieces.

I can hear her pulse as the music fades to silence and she turns to hand her roses to Troy, who gives her an undeniably proud smirk. Those two have seemed to become rather close to each other these past few days and it makes me a little uneasy. If only they knew.

"Lucynda," I whisper so low that only she can hear; impatience twisted in my tone. Impatient because the taste of her still sits heavy on my tongue. I can still feel her convulsing around me as I made her see stars. And I know there's nothing more that I want to do right now than to make her feel that same pleasure all over again. I want to make her feel so fucking good only to break her and put her back together.

"Rivian," she whispers back before the priest starts.

Do you like my dress?

She knows I can hear her thoughts; she wants me to hear them. She knew exactly what she was doing when picking out this dress. It’s a curse. She’s showing me that she is not afraid of trivial things like myths that she wouldn’t know to hold true. But honestly, I don’t personally know the truth behind said curse either. The only curse I am victim to is the one in front of me with wildly light eyes and a devilish smirk creating a twister of mixed emotions inside of my brain.

My heart pounds. I only feel this way around her. It feels deeper than an obsession and more than a lore telling me she's my soulmate, but I can't let those feelings take over. I'll give her everything I can without fucking up the one thing I have left to control. Revenge.

"We are gathered here today…" the priest starts and all of the murmurs between our audience quiet down as we all project our attention to the speaker.

Except for me. I can't take my eyes off my sweet Cyn.

It's a dreadful fifteen minutes of pointless talking and scriptures that don't even matter to me, and I'm sure she's bored out of her mind as well. I catch her closing her eyes, a smile still faint across her perfect face, and her chest is rising and falling uncontrollably.

You look beautiful, little one.

I tell her with my mind, deciding to answer her back. I can see her twitch with confusion before she smiles in pride. She looks between me and the priest carefully. It's been a while since I've been in her head like this. But I know she misses it. I miss it.

You're not mad?

I smirk. She's still seeking my approval or denial. Maybe she wants to be punished. But lord knows she could have anything if she asked me for it right now. Fuck my agenda. I have time to figure out how to make this work. How to make her so unbelievably mine, while still having my revenge. Maybe I don't have to choose. Because holy shit, I would flatten the Earth if she wanted me to at this point. My mind seems clouded by the essence of Lucynda.

I'm proud of you, Lucynda. How does it feel to have all these eyes on you but to know that you belong to me?

She tries to suppress her squirm. All eyes really are on her and part of me wonders if she likes it, considering how hard I made her come last night even when she thought others were watching.

I know you don't love me. I know this is all for appearance and for the kingdom. But I can't wait to be your wife, Rivian. I'm sorry for testing you like that.

What the fuck?

I have to demand myself the power not to choke on my own breath. We've been fighting this insatiable war of power, anger, and lust. But this . . . her sweet sentiment, it's not what I was expecting. I try to manipulate my way back into her thoughts to see if she's playing with me. But the way her eyes look up at me, waiting for me to respond to her is what makes me retreat. She wants me to trust her. And I need her to trust me.

Don't apologize, sweet sin. I…

My attempt to admit my own apology for leaving her the way I did last night, is cut off when the priest asks for us to present the rings.

Lucynda has a look of panic on her face, probably knowing she doesn't have a ring for me. But Troy steps up from behind her and hands her the silver band in which Cyn takes and visibly relaxes.

At the same time, Zharus hands me the ring I've picked out for her.

She repeats after the priest, reciting the scripted vows before stepping forward slightly to place the ring over my finger.

I can see her hands shaking, and part of me wants to soothe her. Tell her that everything will be okay. But that would be a lie.

The priest directs his words onto me now, and I follow the lead.

When I look at her, I see my wife. And she wants to love me. But she doesn't want to take the plunge if I won't reciprocate it back. And what she doesn't understand is that won't and can't are two different things.

I grab her hand, letting my thumb make little circles over her skin before slowly sliding the ring onto her finger.

I can't love you, little one.

Disappointment washes over her face as the ring slides another inch.

Why not?

Panic fills her eyes as the ring finds its final home on her finger.

Because it will break you.