A Vow of Thorns (Blackest Gold Book 3) Read online

  Tensley glanced at the King’s guard—dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail, his nose crooked and a large ugly pink scar across the bridge. His eyes were dark and deep, watching Tensley’s every move. He noted the thick blade at his side, but his hands were clasped in front of them. Tensley guessed he was fast though, and would be able to slice him if he acted out of line.

  “This is unexpected,” Fallen said and leaned back, flashing his crooked, sharp teeth. “Sit down.”

  Tensley stood, unmoving. His pointed stare, directed at his king told Fallen enough. He wouldn’t be bullied into submission. He’d respect the king, but he wouldn’t bow.

  “The bargain,” Tensley began, pausing, testing how much control he could blister into his king.

  Fallen rested his cheek on his hand and raised a brow. “Yes?”

  “I will agree to serve you at High Court,” he said, slowly, “only if it means I won’t be losing my position as Dux of Scorpios in the process.”

  Fallen’s shoulders stiffened for a fraction of a second and then he shifted forward. “I heard your father was poisoned.”

  Tensley’s jaw clenched. Of course, the news would spread like wildfire and come to Fallen’s very door.

  “And I want the bastards who did this to pay,” Tensley said, voice sharp.

  Fallen stared back at Tensley, watching for a moment of weakness, for the man to fall and crumple, but Tensley stood, his back as a rod of steel.

  Fallen’s eyes rested on Tensley’s fisted bloodied hands and he smiled. “It seems you made the bastard pay already.”

  Tensley stepped forward and he heard the guard behind him shift closer.

  Fallen raised a hand to tell the guard to stand down.

  “I want Ares destroyed,” Tensley hissed, bearing his teeth. “And I want their territory. Grant me this, and I’ll serve you. Blood and sweat.”

  Fallen tapped his finger on his dimpled chin, eyeing Tensley’s bloody hands. Hands of power, hands of war.

  “Very well,” Fallen said after a long pause and stood. “Ares will be no longer. Their council will be disbanded and any bastard choosing to keep their neck and pledge loyalty to Scorpios will be sent to you. Be this a lesson, Mr. Knight. I’d rather keep my court, my people happy than withhold them their desires. In return, I expect your unwavering loyalty to the court and me.” He poured himself a finger of whisky, the dark oak color and lifted it to his mouth. “I’ll summon you and your bride to the court when I see fit.”

  Tensley nodded, hoping Fallen noticed he didn’t bow as he turned to leave.

  That sinister voice had one last thing to say. “Be prepared, Mr. Knight. I might assign you as commander of my army. High positions come with great danger.”

  Tensley halted, his back muscles tensing.

  “My army needs a vicious beast, and I think I’ve found the perfect one.”

  Tensley bit back an insult, and left, loosening his tie around his neck, aching to breathe without the heavy weight on his chest. In his chest. Fucking thumping for the dolcezza.

  Scorpios was his, Molly was his, but he had just sold himself to a king bent on destroying him.

  THE CEREMONY was set for the next day. Molly spent the day with Donovan. In the chaos of preparing Tensley’s ceremony of transiting to the Dux, every single soldier, every single-family member rushed around the townhouse. Poor Donovan was forgotten, so Molly made it her goal to keep him company.

  Molly and Tensley had stayed the night at the townhouse, and when she woke the next day, he was already gone.

  Probably best as she vomited again. Fear gripped her chest and stomach, and all day she thought of how to tell him. With so much going on, she couldn’t tell him now. Not when he was struggling with his father’s coma and him stepping up as Dux. When they went to bed the night before, he was distant, but she didn’t blame him. He didn’t need to say anything. She could feel the fear, the anger, the anxiety rolling off him. He had so much storming his mind, and she knew if she were carrying more chaos, it’d be too much.

  “Donovan,” Gabriella said as she walked into the kitchen, scowling at the little boy’s legs dangling off the counter. “You need to get ready.”

  “Molly will help me,” Donovan insisted, tugging at her pinkie, chocolate sauce all over his mouth.

  “No.” Gabriella’s words sliced through the air, and the staff around them bowed their heads and continued working. “Come here. Now.”

  Molly smiled at Donovan and picked him up, placing him back on the floor. “Go get ready. I’ll see you soon.”

  Donovan rushed to his mother and took her hand. Molly didn’t miss the sour look Gabriella gave her. With demon culture, they were very strict on affection toward others. Molly knew she was maybe too affectionate with him, but his eyes lit up and his lopsided grin warmed her heart when she hugged him or told him he was the best runner she had ever seen.

  Molly turned into the hallway, thinking she too needed to get ready before the ceremony. Perhaps, Tensley would be back.

  “Molly.”

  Molly glanced over her shoulder to see Daphne, Tensley’s mother. Her welcoming brown eyes were heavy and dark, no longer filled with ease and happiness.

  “May I steal you away for a moment?” Even then, Daphne forced a kind smile that crushed Molly’s heart.

  Her husband was in a coma, uncertain if and when he would wake up.

  “Of course,” she said and followed her to Mr. Knight’s office, soon to be Tensley’s office.

  The strong wood beams ran across the high ceilings. Built in bookcases sat on either side of the giant oak desk and the large windows looking out on Fifth Avenue spilled light into its shadows.

  Daphne glanced at her husband’s leather chair and the untouched litter of papers on his desk. She sucked in a deep breath and paced in front of the desk.

  “When I was seventeen, I married Tensley’s father,” Daphne said, toying with her necklace of pearls. “We had only met a few times before, but I was honored to be chosen as the Dux’s bride.” She stopped pacing and faced Molly, her features worn. “He had just been crowned the new Dux. He was older, wiser, crueler. But he promised me that family came first. That I would never fear my family’s safety, or fear that we would go hungry. He is—was,” she paused, catching her breath. The words slicing deep. “He was cold and cruel, but never to me. He gave me power, he gave me confidence, and he gave me my family.”

  Molly stood still, holding her breath as Daphne spoke, tears in her doe brown eyes. Family. Her hand ached to touch her stomach, thinking of the possibility of Daphne’s grandchild growing inside of her

  “The Dux is the blade, we—” Daphne gestured to Molly. “—are the hand that wields them. You must support my son. He needs you more than ever now.”

  Molly’s throat grew thick and she nodded. “I won’t let anything happen to your son.”

  A few tears escaped Daphne’s eyes, and she wiped them away with two fingertips. She shakily smiled at Molly, moving to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”

  Molly again nodded, too afraid to speak—too afraid she’d vomit on Daphne’s Gucci shoes.

  Molly made her way out of Mr. Knight’s office and up to the bedroom they had used last night.

  When she entered the room, she saw Tensley, half dressed in front of a full-length mirror. His back muscles were tensed in the lines of his thoughts, and she couldn’t help but steal a glance at his firm ass in his pants.

  Her thoughts went back to what his mother had spoken to her about a few minutes ago, and just by looking at him, she saw the stress building in his body.

  His sharp eyes caught her reflection in the mirror and paused. “Your dress is on the bed.”

  She looked over at the king size bed to see a black gown laid out. She stepped closer, her hand stroking the sheer fabric. A gown of the night sky. She undressed, the tension thick in the room. As she stepped into the dress and zipped up the back, flowing around her figure, she stole a glance at Tensley.


  His head was bowed as he buttoned up his shirt, the back taut around his muscles.

  “Fuck,” she heard him mutter when he came to his tie.

  She moved, her dress a whisper across the old oak floorboards and slipped her hand down his side, moving to face him.

  Be his strength.

  “Here,” she said softly, not to spook him. Her hands placed over his, she felt his heavy eyes on her. With a sigh, he let his hands fall away from his loose tie and she moved closer.

  “My men think I’m weak, that I’m too fucking young,” he hissed out, and she saw his jaw flex.

  Molly straightened his tie, making sure one end was longer than the other. “Then your men are blind.”

  He tsked. “This wasn’t what I expected.” Molly peeked up at his expression, so torn, so drawn, but his eyes were focused on her. When his eyes caught hers, he lured her into his darkness, never letting her look back down. His hands found her hips and pulled her closer. “I thought we had time. I thought I had time to be a man with you.”

  Molly frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “With being Dux, I’m responsible for thousands of lives. Everyone will be watching us. I thought for a while I could just be responsible for you and only you. Focus entirely on you. Be a man without everyone breathing down my neck,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning her hairline so the curls swayed across her forehead. “But I must be the Dux; cruel, focused, deadly. And now with the High Court wanting me, I’ll be tied to two roles.”

  She fidgeted with his tie, dropping her gaze to his bobbing throat. “You’re going to work at the High Court, then?”

  “Molly.” He sighed. “I was going to tell you, but I was still trying to process everything.”

  “I understand,” she told him fast when she felt his pulse quicken. Molly couldn’t help but think of her own situation, the possibility of a pregnancy, of needing time to process. “We all have things we wish to process alone, things we need to think through on our own before sharing with others.”

  He paused, and his next words hit her hard. “Fallen knows about Pearce.”

  She gawked at him, her hands trembling. “He does?”

  He tsked. “He does, and he threatened if I didn’t agree to serve him, he’d tell the court, and they’d murder you.” His anger rolled off him in heavy, ruthless waves.

  She swallowed. “But… they wouldn’t. I’m a daemon.”

  Tensley’s thumb brushed across her wrinkled brow. “He says he has a daemon.”

  Her eyes widened. “Another daemon? You…” She couldn’t speak. Another one of her. A chance for her death, a chance for her to understand who or what she was. She bit the inside of her mouth. The news was terrifying, but thrilling. What if this other daemon could tell her things?

  “I won’t let anyone in the High Court touch you, and if I have to serve that bastard King, I will,” Tensley said, regaining her attention. “I’ll figure out how to run Scorpios while being in the High Court.”

  She toyed with his tie. “You won’t be alone, Tensley.”

  His hands gripped her tighter. “Fuck, Molly.” One palm found her cheek and she lifted her eyes to meet his narrowed ones. “How the hell did I get you?”

  She shrugged, a corner of her lip quirking. “A contract. Three hundred years ago.”

  “Smartass.”

  “You do like my ass though, don’t you?”

  He smirked and palmed her cheeks, flushing her against his front. She blushed at his stone-hard length rubbing against her.

  “Tensley,” she moaned, cupping his scruffy cheeks, so rough against her palms that she wondered how they would feel against her thighs. “You’re a new leader. You can make your own reign, your own choices. Not like your father. Those men are scared of your potential and they should be. Show them the beast.”

  A smug smirk took to his smiles, but his eyes shone so bright, so proudly, she almost sighed aloud.

  She tugged at his tie.

  His hand caught hers. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” His finger rubbed along her wrist bone.

  She laughed, stepping out of his embrace. “No, I don’t.”

  He cocked a brow, not hiding his smile. “Trying to distract me?”

  She scooted around him and toward the dresser, grabbing her brush for her hair. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  He hummed as he watched her stroke the brush through her waves. She glanced back at him, his stance strong, leaning against the wall, those dark eyes examining her with need, with pride.

  Her stomach churned. She wanted to tell him. She didn’t want do the test alone, but now was not the right time. Tomorrow, she told herself.

  Tonight—he needed her.

  “Ready?” she said, turning to face him.

  He looped his tie perfectly to create one she would see on a fashion runaway and he strode toward her.

  “I was born ready, dolcezza.” And then he swept her into his arms and devoured her mouth.

  One last taste of poison before the oath.

  TENSLEY TIGHTENED his grip on Molly’s hand wedged between his bicep as they moved down the grand staircase. He could hear the chatter, the low laughs from the ballroom, where the ceremony would occur. All members of Scorpios.

  It was a march of death and rebirth—death of Tensley Knight, the son of a vicious leader, the brother of a traitor, and the thief of the daemon; the rebirth of a Dux, a beast of the court, and power nipped at his flesh, curling around his throat and wrists.

  Power that would surge through him like lightning.

  Vicious as steel, heartless as iron, soulless as ash.

  With Molly by his side as he walked into the glittering ballroom of Scorpios, silence fell like thunder over the crowd.

  The only sound, their shoes against the white marble floor.

  Click. Click. Click.

  He raised his head high, eyeing Mr. Rose and an official of the High Court. Seto, the King’s guard. Seto wore a black robe with golden cuffs and a golden collar of metal. Tensley’s scorpion tattoo burned on his right shoulder blade, his breath shallow and quiet.

  He walked Molly to the front of the crowd and stood her beside his mother who looked too pale, too thin.

  He didn’t hug Molly or touch her, but he gave her one final look, a look he hoped expressed everything he couldn’t say or do. He had explained what he could to her, but he knew the ceremony would be worrisome no matter what.

  Then he turned, seeing the councilmen seated on upholstered black and gold chairs, watching as he crossed the distance to Seto and Mr. Rose.

  He eyed the golden goblet aged by years of use, and the garland of thorns and thistles.

  “Come,” Seto demanded, not moving his hands from each other in front of him. Seto was a tall, wide-set structure, towering over Mr. Rose, and scars ran along his cheeks, but he wore them proudly. His dark hair was tied back in a thick braid and a massive beard hid the lower part of his face, only hinting at thin, scowling lips.

  Tensley did as he was commanded and stood in front of Seto, wearing the same cool expression.

  “As Fallen’s messenger between the High Court and Earth, I have received the King’s blessing to make Tensley Knight the Dux of Scorpios, his birthright,” Seto announced to the silent crowd. “The thorns,” he ordered, snapping at Mr. Rose. Mr. Rose reached for the garland of thorns, jolting when the sharp edge sliced his thumb. He passed it to Seto who turned to face Tensley.

  “Are you ready, Mr. Knight?”

  He grinded his teeth and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  He braced himself as Seto set the garland, the crown of thorns upon his head and slid it down, slicing into his scalp, his temple, perfecting the impassive expression. No emotion, no sign of weakness as his men, his people watched him perform the oath.

  “The cup,” Seto said and passed it into Tensley’s hands. “You may drink from the cup after you say your oath to the crown.”

  Tensley breathed throug
h his nose and glanced down at the dark redness swishing in the golden cup. Blood of Fallen.

  “I, Tensley Knight, take the oath of the crown,” he began, voice steel, voice iron, the perfect warrior, perfect beast. He paused, his heated gaze turning to the silent crowd. Then the oath, the ancient oath rolled off his tongue. One he’d practiced as a child with Beau. One he’d dreamt of and feared.

  “With this cup of blood

  And thorns upon my head

  To which my essence does flow

  I solemnly swear

  My loyalty as Dux

  To the brothers of Scorpios

  To the court

  And to the Crown

  Which comes before any other

  And is steadfast above all else

  In strength and malignancy

  As does the blood drip from my head

  So does the blood which I have been graced

  From the almighty himself

  Fallen.”

  One deep breath and he lifted the goblet to his mouth, pouring the thickness of poison and corruption down his throat and into his own bloodstream.

  He straightened, licked his lips, the taste of bitter acid in his throat, and faced the crowd, the warm blood from his temples rivulets down his cheeks, through his lashes.

  He didn’t flinch, he didn’t cower.

  Show them the beast you are.

  His eyes sought hers, wide and wet, but she didn’t look away, she didn’t flinch.

  How can I be the cruel demon to serve my men and my king, and still touch her with the softest, holiest caresses of devotion?

  “I present the Dux of Scorpios,” Seto announced.

  And cheers erupted, hands clapping, but all he heard was her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

  Did she see the beast now?

  MOLLY’S STOMACH ached. Dizzy, nauseous, clammy palms. Too many bodies crowded in the ballroom, and she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Tensley. He was surrounded, like a new favorite toy. Men tried to win his respect, his favor, and he didn’t look pleased in the least.