A Queen of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 4)

I’d given Dash a few lectures about going into rooms he wasn’t supposed to, and confiscated one of the maps he’d made of the castle. Specifically, the hidden tunnels. I grabbed that now and went to the corner of the bathroom indicated on the map, searching the little crevices and nooks. Nothing I found looked like it would trigger a hidden door.

A shock of power sang through me. A burst of adrenaline.

Time was up.

Breathing heavily, desperate and excited and loving the thrill of running, I turned the map over and went to the other corner. There I found it easily, a little knob tucked behind a cabinet. Dash really needed a compass rose or a better sense of direction.

I pushed it, pulled the door wide, ducked in, and closed it behind me. Following the map, I took the turns that would bring me to a small back stairway and up to the third floor. Except when I got there, it was a dead end.

“Damn him and his map making,” I said, looking back the way I’d come.

A slight tremor shook the ground. I cocked my head. Was that a roar of frustration? He must’ve gotten to the king’s room and found me gone.

With a thrill and an excited laugh, I raced back the way I’d come for a bit until I reached another junction. I wound through the corridors, finding one that wasn’t on the map, and then looked for one that should’ve been there but wasn’t. Turned around, confused, I jogged toward the last location that had seemed legit. Around the next corner, I checked my whereabouts, thought about turning the map, and looked up to see if anything matched.

A huge frame filled the small corridor. His golden eyes flecked with burgundy glowed softly in the dim light. My heart stopped for a moment.

“Did you think you could run from me, my queen?” he asked in a gravelly voice. “Did you think you could hide?”

Is that the dragon? I thought.

No. But in his current state, with as many pheromones as you’re secreting, you probably won’t be able to tell the difference.

Fear rode my adrenaline. My survival reflex went active. Usually it urged me to fight, but this time it urged me to run like fucking hell.

“Shit,” I let out before I turned and sprinted.

I could hear his shoes hitting the floor as he launched after me. The map fluttered to the ground, and I rounded a turn too fast, going wide and bouncing off the wall. My slippered feet nearly lost traction, but I kept going, around another turn, hoping to hell I’d find the damn staircase.

Dead end.

“No. Fuck.” I slammed up against the wall and then pushed off and spun around to find another way.

Nyfain filled the corridor up ahead, coming fast.

Heart beating like a rabbit, I ran right at him before ducking into a corridor on the left. He skidded as he reached it, grabbing the corner. He swung himself around and in.

Up ahead, jiggling in my vision, the stairs climbed out of sight.

“Oh thank fuck,” I said with a ragged breath.

His feet pounded the ground not far away, his long legs carrying him much faster than I could go.

I reached the stairs and jumped up the first two.

A large hand grabbed the back of my dress and ripped backward. Fabric tore, and I screamed. My back hit Nyfain’s front, and his arm wrapped around me.

“You are mine,” he growled, putting me down onto the ground before shoving me forward with one hand and ripping at my dress with the other. I caught myself with my hands on the steps, bent over. Nyfain ripped again, tearing my dress completely off me.

He growled again when he saw I wasn’t wearing underwear. He held me in place with one hand and pushed in close, using the other to thread two fingers into my molten pussy. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Goddess help me, Finley, you’re so fucking wet. You’re so ready for me.”

He worked faster, curving his fingers just right as they glided in and out of my cunt, making wet sounds. Without warning, he flipped me over and shoved me down against the cold, hard stairs. The corners bit into my back as he slapped my knees wide and slipped his middle two fingers into my pussy, bending over me in his fine suit. He restarted his fast, hard pace. His thumb pressed into my clit and his fingers rubbed my upper wall, his hand slamming into me, the sensations jarring and brutal and—

Holy fuck, it was so good.

I braced my elbows against the stairs, no longer even conscious of the bite of pain from the wood. He kept at me, leaning down a little more to place a bruising kiss on my lips. I opened my mouth to him, but he backed off, working my pussy, wiggling his thumb over my slick clit. His palm against me made a wet cupping sound. Each thump of his hand, each rub of his fingers, sent me higher, over the edge but still climbing. He was rubbing too much but not enough. Thrusting too hard, but I needed more.