The Puppeteer and The Poisoned Pawn (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 3)

There are only three rooms we can share, side by side. It’s important to Dessin that we’re not split up.

Niles sees how extravagant the interior is, lush carpet, dark cherrywood walls, glistening chandeliers and large feather beds. He whistles and hollers. “We should have turned ourselves in sooner!”

But then realizes he has to bunk with Chekiss. And his good mood quickly dissipates.

I try to tug Ruth into our room, because I can’t look at Dessin right now, and I’m not letting her sleep in a room with a strange man.

“Hey,” Dessin barks. “No. You’re with me. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Too bad,” I tell him.

Warrose stands off to the side like he’d rather be riding into battle than watching us bicker.

“It’s okay. I can room with Warman.” Ruth squeezes my hand assuringly.

“Warrose,” he corrects, voice like crunching leaves and thunderstorms.

“Mm-hmm.”

I look back and forth between them. My gut instinct is to trust Warrose. It’s something about him, the calming presence, the protective energy he exerts. But if I’m being honest, this is more about my unwillingness to be alone with Dessin. I refuse to let him sweet-talk me into accepting his betrayal.

“No. Hell no.” I look into Dessin’s eyes and it’s nearly painful. My eyes water involuntarily as if I’m looking directly into the sun.

“We’re in the barracks with hundreds of untrustworthy men who might come looking for the women that just arrived. I can’t have you two staying in a room together. Unprotected.”

His tone is stern, yet pleading. His reasoning is sound. I don’t want to put Ruth in any danger just because of my personal feelings toward Dessin.

I nod to Ruth. “Okay, but if you’re uncomfortable at all, please come get me.”

She gives me a gentle hug, kissing me on the cheek.

We depart into our rooms. I head straight for the foot of the bed, removing my shoes, avoiding looking in his direction.

“I want to talk about it,” Dessin says, clicking the door shut. So now you want to talk about Aurick Demechnef?

Something inside me breathes fire. The sick taste of betrayal coats the back of my throat. I might be sick. I want to throw my shoe at his head. How could he keep this from me?

He’s kept his secrets. I’ve forced myself to accept that about him. Accept that he knows best. Accept that he has a plan for us. Accept that I’m a stupid, stupid woman who isn’t worthy of knowing the depths of his mind. This is Aurick Demechnef. My fists clench the velvet duvet on the bed. He’ll hurt you. The way Jack hurt you. Anger vibrates the muscles in my stomach, my back, my thighs. I’m sweltering with this pain that is slowly gnawing at my heart, pushing the tip of a knife slowly into my arteries. How could he do this to me?

“Fuck. You.” I can hardly breathe. Tears of disgust are begging to be released from the stinging pressure behind my eyes.

“I know you don’t understand—”

“Because I’m a stupid little girl, right? Did you laugh to yourself when you found out I had willingly gone into the lion’s den? Did you shake your head at my naivety when I obeyed his house rules like a pet?” A rainstorm of fire sears through my soul.

Dessin’s face hardens into something dangerous. Like he’s holding on to his temper by a string of yarn. “Don’t,” he warns.

“What about when I cowered in the corner of his room after he hit me? After his fist cracked into my cheekbone? What about when I sobbed into that corner, wondering why you didn’t save me? Were you laughing then?” I’m on my feet, body clenched tightly in a fighting stance. My blood runs rampant through my veins, a choppy river of acid.

Dessin is practically shaking, chest heaving to draw in more oxygen.

“So help me God, Skylenna.”

“I hate you!” I screech through my teeth, tears springing free, dripping fast enough to fill an ocean. “I don’t want to see you or Kane tonight. Leave!” A sob breaks off from my chest. I can’t trust Kane right now either. Whatever Dessin knows, he does too. They both lied to me. They both made me look like a fool. They let me live in the home of a horrible ruler, a deranged psychopath.

Dessin looks at me for a long moment, watching me sob, sniffle, and wrap my arms around my own body to comfort myself and calm the raging meltdown.

He nods once, like it’s all he can do not to race to my side, hold me in his arms and keep me steady. Tell me I’m safe with him.

It’s a few moments while I fight to regain my composure. His brown eyes glaze over, and his body relaxes. Shoulders droop, fists uncurl, brows soften. It’s as if he’s drifting off into a daydream.

He’s leaving, but his body will stay.

The man standing before me blinks several times, glancing around the room in confusion. But as his eyes land on me, his lips curl into a smile. But it’s quick, temporary. He seems to notice my rosy tearstained cheeks and my trembling shoulders. That wicked smile dissolves, and a pair of darkened eyes trail over me, studying my body language.

“Are you hurt?” It’s the accent that gives him away. The satiny, elegant way he says each word. The soothing, sensual tone. The burning coals in his eyes.

Greystone.

“Yes.” I nod, sniffling. “I’m hurt.”

I am torn to shreds. My insides are in a puddle around me. And I can’t breathe.

Greystone takes a step closer, his face uncharacteristically serious and pinched with concern. He taps his fingers together, unsure how to comfort me.

“May I comfort you?” he asks.

More tears spill from my eyes as I nod. “Yes.” Please.

Greystone closes the few inches left between us, using his thumbs to clean my cheeks of the streaming tears. I lean into his touch, grateful for the closeness, the gentle comfort.

“You’re okay,” he purrs, cool breath grazing my cheek.

And with considerate caution, Greystone wraps his arms around my shoulders, bringing me to his chest. “You’re okay.”

I rest my warm, wet cheek against his shoulder. “He’s a bastard,” I whimper.

“I’ve known that for some time, yes.” He sighs.

I chuckle between sobs, snuggling deeper into his chest. His scent is my safe space and slightly different than Dessin’s. It’s the rich aroma of cedar and dark musk. I love noticing their differences. What makes each alter unique.

“You smell nice,” I whisper.

“I know that too.”

I laugh again. “I’m sorry this is what you had to surface to. I’m sure this is definitely not your normal trigger.”

“Actually,”—he pulls my wavy golden hair off to one shoulder—“the sound of crying that sounds like moaning is a negative trigger for me.”

I straighten up as my stomach braids into a knot. “Oh.” Something dreadful sinks its teeth into my thoughts. I can’t imagine what that sound makes him relive.

“Let’s not dwell on it,” he says quietly. “Let’s lie down.”

I let him guide me onto the soft bed. It doesn’t even squeak as we get situated against the massive pillows. I slip under the cream-colored silky sheet, under the weight of the comforter. Greystone leans against the headboard, positioning me between his legs, arms curling around me as he pulls me against his chest. I frown. This is how I used to hold Scarlett when she had a breakdown. This is how I would subdue her temper.

“Did you know?” I ask cautiously. “About Aurick.”

“What about him?”

“That he’s the leader and heir of Demechnef?”

“Of course,” he murmurs, shrugging as if that’s obvious.

I clench my jaw. “And you didn’t think to tell me either?”

“Why would that come up in conversation?”

“Because I was living under his roof!” I twist my neck to get a side-glance of him.

Greystone goes completely still. Arms tightly coiled around my waist.

“You were?”

Wow, Dessin really keeps him out of the loop. I sigh, relaxing back against his chest. Taking deep breaths to calm that inflamed need to lash out. But it’s hard. How do I ignore this kind of betrayal? How can we overcome this?

“We’re more alike than I initially thought,” I tell him.

“We’re both insatiably aroused every hour of the day?”

I snort. “No. We’re both left in the dark.”

“Ah,” he exhales, his breath blowing through my hair. “Apparently, I’m reckless and not too skilled with keeping secrets.”

“At least you know the reasons they lie to you.”

He’s so silent, I wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“I wish Scarlett had someone like you to protect her when she was a child,” I say.

“Your sister.” He nods, relieved that he knows that much.

“Yes. She was—harmed as a little girl. It ended up being too much for her.”

“I see.”

“My point is that… you are far more important than they give you credit for. Your reason for existing probably saved Kane’s life the way I wish it would have saved Scarlett’s.” I turn to my left to face him, still tucked between his legs. “You matter, Greystone.”

His cold, dark eyes widen as his breathing grows heavy. He searches my eyes, seeking truth in my statement. It both breaks and warms my heart to see how grateful he is to be appreciated. I nod twice, paying him a sad smile.

“Please let me kiss you.” He breathes against my mouth, hand running up the length of my neck. And he’s hot under his shirt, feverish to the touch like he’ll burst into flames if he can’t get a taste of my lips.

“Okay.”

He dips his head down to capture my mouth. I suddenly realize I’ve never kissed him before. And it’s different. His breath is hot, his lips parting slowly over mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth lazily, like he’s going to take his time exploring me.

I melt against his chest, feeling him grow hard at my backside. The way he moves is like an art, savoring my flavor, flicking his tongue against my own. And my god, he knows what he’s doing. Because that lick, that sweet taste, makes me arch my back against his erection. I press into him, moaning at the way he pries my mouth open with his thumb, sucking on my bottom lip.

“Do you need me tonight, pretty one?” he rasps against my lips.

“Yes.” I really do. It’s taking the edge off my burning anger, sitting like a tumor in my belly. I want to forget what Dessin has done. I want to pretend like none of this has happened. Just for tonight.

“Yes, what?”

“Please. Yes, please!” I roll my hips against him, letting him feel the softness of my ass.

He laughs darkly, hands gliding up my waist, stopping over my breasts. “Would you like me to teach you something new tonight?”

I nod my head, panting as his fingers caress my nipples. My head falls back against his shoulder.

“Good, because I’m foaming at the mouth to see your mouth stretched wide.”

I don’t know what he means by that, but his tone triggers my thighs to pinch together, trying to control the heated need to be touched there.

With one arm under my legs and the other around my back, he scoops me off the bed, setting me on the carpet gently. I tuck my feet under my butt, looking up at him as he towers over me.

“My god,” he purrs, licking his lips as he devours my body with those insidious eyes. “You are devastating to look at on your knees like this. A gorgeous little offering for me.”

I gulp loudly, attempting to calm my stuttering breaths.

“Teach me,” I beg. Make me forget.

He smirks. “I want you to feel my need for you.” He reaches for my hand, guiding it to the bulging length in his pants. A current of buzzing energy shoots up my arm as I connect with his visible desire for me. I nearly forgot how large he is, my hand barely covering the bottom of his shaft.

“Mmm.” Greystone presses my hand against him, urging me to feel him pulse under my fingers. “Unbutton them.”

I look at the three buttons of his black pants, sitting just under my palm. I nod, raising my other hand to assist in unfastening them.

“That’s good,” he praises me. “Now, pull them down.”

I blink. Pull them down. I’ve only seen him in the darkness of the thirteenth room. And this room is comfortably lit. And I’m on my knees.

My hands tremble as I tug at his waistband, lowering the pants until he’s free. Long and hard as stone. I try not to look shocked, try to keep my mouth closed. But he’s watching me, and the size is bigger than I remembered.

“You want to put your hands on me,” he says, his accent like a tongue licking between my legs. “So, do it. Touch me.”

I use my fingers first, trailing them over his tip, down the length of the shaft. A quiet exhale whooshes from his chest. The sensation is light against the tips of my fingers, but powerful enough to make me squirm with electric desire, insatiable arousal. I squeeze my knees together, unable to handle the neediness he’s provoking in me.

“Go ahead, wrap those pretty little hands around it.”

My pussy is dripping, and I can’t tell what burns into me more… his voice or the hardness between my hands.

Without another thought, I do as he says, curling both hands around him, feeling the pulse thrum against my skin, the heat swelter against my palms.

“Good girl.”

His moan is an aphrodisiac, a husky sound that drives me into a wanton frenzy. I want to do things to him. Touch, rub, feel him move inside me.

“Please.” I’m stroking him desperately, like I need something but can’t quite name it. It’s the tension building like a pot of boiling water in my center, making me into a rabid animal.

“Open your mouth for me.” His voice is distant and strained, yet still very much in control. “That’s right, a little wider.”

I unhinge my jaw, looking up at him with eager anticipation.

“Do you want to taste my cock?”

Do I? Yes. Hell yes. I’m nodding in a cloudy daze.

He narrows his eyes. “Let me see your tongue.”

And the tip of his cock is sliding into my mouth so slowly, it’s torturous. I groan at the need to feel him unlock my jaw, and that seems to untie his carefully curated seduction.

His thick cock glides into my mouth until it reaches a stopping point.

“Keep your hands around it. Yes, like that.” He pulls my hair away from my face. “You can taste me, suck me, or lick me however you want—Mmm.” His head goes back, and that sound makes me tremble inside.

The throaty groan soaks my panties, stripping me of any ladylike ideals I have left. I’m licking the length of him, up and down, tasting, swirling, worshiping every terrible inch. And the more I do, the harder he pants. It’s fuel to the tingling between my legs. I start to moan while I choke him down, letting his tip touch the back of my throat.

“You’re such a good girl,” he utters.

I need this. Right here, I can forget, I can believe it never happened. And I’ve even managed to drown my rage and fill it with pleasure. Greystone growls at my rhythm, using my hands to grip his base. He’s writhing, fingers weaving into my hair, completely at my mercy.

“Like this?” I ask, pulling away gently.

“Yes.” He smiles, eyes hooded and drunk. “You’re doing so well.”

I take him in my mouth again, this time ravenous, faster, deeper.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to make me—lose it.”

But I don’t stop. I remove one hand to touch myself, rubbing between my legs until I’m chasing an inferno of pleasure. I let out a breathy moan, and Greystone is tightening his fists, grunting.

“You want me to spill in your mouth, sweetheart?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Then I need you to come for me, rub your pretty little clit right in front of me. Can you do that?” His tone is authoritative and laced with thick droplets of lust. I moan against him in answer.

“Because when I kiss you again, I want to taste the mark I leave in you. That you are ours to keep.”

I explode. Completely taken over with a firestorm of euphoria, bliss, agonizing pleasure that could easily be mistaken for a drug. And the sound that rumbles up my throat is cut off by his cock filling me up.

Greystone jerks, gasping as he spills over my tongue, both salty and sweet. When he stops pulsing, he pulls himself out, mesmerized as some of him leaks past my lips.

With the pad of his thumb, he wipes away his hot liquid.

“Swallow.”

One gulp and it’s running down my throat. All of him.

Greystone hums his approval, lifting my shivering body from the floor, tucking me under the covers, and spooning his body around mine.

“You’re not alone in the dark anymore,” he whispers.