King of Pain: Rosethorn Valley Fae #4
King of Pain
Rosethorn Valley Fae #4
Tasha Black
13th Story Press
Copyright © 2020 by 13th Story Press
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Tasha Black Starter Library
About King of Pain
King of Pain
1. Cullen
2. Cullen
3. Jessica
4. Jessica
5. Cullen
6. Cullen
7. Jessica
8. Jessica
9. Cullen
10. Jessica
11. Cullen
12. Jessica
13. Cullen
14. Jessica
15. Cullen
16. Jessica
17. Cullen
18. Jessica
19. Jessica
20. Cullen
21. Jessica
22. Cullen
23. Jessica
24. Jessica
Axel (Sample)
1. Axel
2. Delilah
Tasha Black Starter Library
About the Author
One Percent Club
Tasha Black Starter Library
Packed with steamy shifters, mischievous magic, billionaire superheroes, and plenty of HEAT, the Tasha Black Starter Library is the perfect way to dive into Tasha's unique brand of Romance with Bite!
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About King of Pain
Can the heat of her rekindled love melt his cold-hearted desire for revenge?
Jessica has the perfect life, or so she thinks. No conflict, no struggle, just the same idyllic day, over and over. When a familiar figure from her past bursts onto the scene, it shatters the spell that’s kept her happy, but trapped, for so many years. The traces of her old life come flooding back, and she finds herself falling for the fae king who rescued her all over again. But the happy memories of her past with him aren’t all they seem, and she soon comes face to face with the devastating reason she left in the first place. Jessica must decide if she is willing to put her heart on the line again to give him a second chance.
Cullen is a fallen fae king, banished from the mortal world by his own treacherous brothers. His fate is sealed, until he learns that his one true love has been trapped in the faerie realm, hidden away from him for all these years. He spirits her away and rekindles their passion, desperate to make up for lost time. His life with Jessica won’t be secure unless he hands over his brothers. But if he can’t let go of his obsession with getting revenge, he just might lose his love all over again.
If you like strong women, hunky fae kings, wild adventures, steamy sensual scenes, and happily-ever-afters, then you’ll love the world of Rosethorn Valley Fae!
Rosethorn Valley Fae:
King of Midnight
King of Light
King of the Wilds
King of Pain
King of Pain
1
Cullen
Cullen Ward roared and pushed his magic to its limit.
He felt the strain on his mind as well as his muscles as he brought an army of shadows to life around him to hold strong against the light.
A bead of sweat stung his eyes.
All three of his brothers and their queens stood before him, furiously gathering their forces to oust Cullen from the human realm. The King of Light assaulted him with magical bursts while the King of Darkness smothered him in an inky cloak of midnight. The King of the Wilds was burning the very life force from the surrounding forest to bolster their attacks.
Seeing the three of them work together was almost more painful than their magical onslaught.
Almost.
Cullen himself had once been the King of Order, but he had learned to feed on pain, an endless fuel source in this miserable realm.
And yet even with so much power at his fingertips, he still felt himself inexorably pushed through the veil between the mortal realm and the fae.
How can they stand against me at all? I should be able to demolish them with a thought.
But somehow, his brothers were willing to drain themselves to push him back into faerie. They were pushing harder than he’d ever imagined they could.
Cullen glanced around at their queens, fighting their own hearts out beside them, and he understood.
His brothers had something to fight for.
It was only a matter of time before they bested him. He could already smell the forest around them burning with the invisible fire of his youngest brother’s life essence. The fool was willing to sacrifice himself for these mortals.
As the veil between worlds opened to suck him in, the faintest hint of another scent slipped between realms and caressed his senses.
Cullen froze, all thoughts of the battle forgotten.
Jessica…
The redolence of tea roses and vanilla sent his memory reeling.
He reclines on a soft blanket in the shade of a mighty oak. She sits beside him, legs curled under her, jotting notes in a leather-bound journal. The scratch of her pen against the paper tickles his senses.
Suddenly he had no strength left to fight his brothers.
And more importantly, he had no desire to resist.
If any part of Jessica was on the other side, he had no more need of the mortal realm after all.
His brother’s invisible fire was expanding now, licking at the stone wall that separated the garden and the mansion from the woods.
Cullen was barely holding on. The power was almost too much for him to resist.
But it also proved too much for his little brother.
The King of the Wilds fell onto his side, the last of his life energy spent. His queen wailed in agony.
Her pain was exquisite. It surged into Cullen, filling him with all the power he could handle - more than enough to defeat his remaining brothers and end the short lives of their mortal queens.
He knew exactly what he needed to do next.
For the first time in decades, a genuine smile graced Cullen Ward’s stern features. He took one final look at his brothers.
And then he let go.
2
Cullen
Cullen landed hard on his ass on the checkerboard floor of an empty ballroom.
He knew where he was immediately - his brother Dorian had spent centuries wasting away in this glorified prison.
Cullen had no intention of doing the same.
“Your majesty.” A familiar voice floated across the room, cloyingly sweet and groveling.
He turned to see a woman in a bird mask and ball gown approaching, bent practically in half with delight as she bowed and curtseyed her way to him.
“Golda,” he said dismissively, recognizing the fae handmaid.
“I see it worked,” Golda said. Her voice was soft, but clear as a bell.
“What worked?” he asked.
“I tricked the human girl into breaking the mirror,” Golda laughed.
“Why?” he asked.
Had he not sensed Jessica’s presence in this place, he would have murdered Golda where she stood, simply for starting the chain of events that landed him in this wretched place. As it was, he was still undecided about it.
She shrugged. She didn’t need a reason - chaos was in her blood.
Oh, how quickly he had lost
track of the folk and their ways. He had almost forgotten the root of his own careless treachery.
But there was no time now for reminiscence.
He glanced at the window but saw only his reflection against the darkness outside.
This mansion was the same as the one in the real world, except that here each day was exactly the same - a loop of repeating time that ended each night with a midnight ball in this very room.
The king of this mansion could not leave its walls.
And now that duty fell to him.
He glanced at the throne in the corner of the conservatory, where they would expect him to sit and overlook their endless revels.
The room was already beginning to fill. A group of musicians in rust-colored uniforms squabbled over their instruments until they saw him and went quiet.
The rustling hush of ballgowns in motion poured in from all three doors.
“Your majesty, allow me to accompany you to your throne,” Golda purred.
He nodded his head in assent and followed her without meaning to.
He even stood on the dais.
In twos and threes, the denizens of the mansion, who fancied themselves his subjects, went quiet as they entered and saw him.
The magnificent clock in the foyer struck once.
They all scurried off, as if getting into place for their nightly dance.
“No,” he said.
They all froze, looking back at him.
The clock struck again.
He still surged with raw power from the battle with his brothers. He would never have a chance to resist once he let that magic fade. Nothing in this palace of apathy could ever feed his hunger like the pain he’d caused his brother’s mortal queen.
Miranda…
Of course she was more than just his brother’s consort. She had been Cullen’s own loyal servant for years before turning on him. And now she knew the price of her betrayal.
He pushed the thoughts aside and steeled himself for the task at hand.
“I will not be your King of Midnight,” he told the gathered crowd. “There will be no ball.”
“What?” an older lady in an emerald gown asked. “What did he say?”
“He says there won’t be a midnight ball,” her partner whispered back loudly as the clock struck a third time.
“Why not?” the woman whined “He wouldn’t be this way if that Jessica were still here.”
“What did you say?” Cullen asked, allowing the glint of danger into his voice.
The clock sounded again.
“N-nothing,” the woman answered, her lavender eyes widening.
“Did you say if Jessica were still here?” he asked, his voice cutting through the fog of ballgowns, cutting her with icy cold.
The clock sounded again as the woman shivered miserably and nodded.
“Where is she?” Cullen demanded.
“I-I,” the woman stammered.
The clock sounded for the sixth time.
Cullen leapt from the dais and strode through the stunned crowd.
“Where is my Jessica?” he asked her.
The clock struck again, and the woman cringed.
“Speak, mongrel,” Cullen spat, his patience at its end.
But the woman was paralyzed with terror.
“Are you a woman or a statue?” His voice was light, teasing. But as he spoke, he reached for her with his mind.
She glanced down at her feet, now rooted into the floor as solid stone.
He watched as the stone traveled up her body, overtaking her knees.
The clock struck again.
He had to get out soon.
“Th-the Queen of Silence took her,” the woman managed as she watched her legs turn to granite.
“Took her where?” Cullen asked calmly.
The clock struck for the ninth time.
“T-to the countryside,” the woman stammered. “Please, your majesty.”
“I don’t have all day,” Cullen said briskly. “And you have considerably less than that. Where in the countryside?”
The stone inched up her torso.
“The north, your majesty,” the woman’s partner told him hurriedly. “She didn’t say where, only that she would bring her to a cottage in the north.”
The clock struck for the tenth time.
But Cullen knew where she was, at least roughly. It would have to be enough.
He flicked his wrist, ceasing the spell just as the woman’s chin turned to stone.
She tipped into her partner’s arms, and he nearly toppled under the weight of her.
“Please, your majesty,” the man wailed. “Please turn her back.”
The spell would wear off in a few hours, but for now their pain was feeding him, replenishing the energy he’d used for the spell, giving him what he needed to make it out.
The clock struck for the eleventh time.
Cullen turned back to the throne.
“So, are we going to dance?” Golda asked flirtatiously, following him.
He could see the fear in her eyes, and it fed him, adding to his fuel until he felt almost sick with the excess.
“Do whatever you want,” he murmured to her, moving faster now.
As the clock struck twelve, he grabbed the throne in both fists and heaved it with all his might, expelling all the magic he had collected with a crash like thunder.
For a horrible heartbeat he was afraid he was wrong, that he had carried none of his heightened powers across the veil.
Then the throne exploded through the back wall, revealing a moonlit patch of garden and the darkness of the forest beyond.
Cullen launched himself through the hole in the wall before it could close up behind him.
“Your majesty,” Golda’s voice was plaintive.
He turned back and eyed the ball guests derisively.
“Wh-what should we do?” she asked.
“Whatever the hell you want,” he said, turning away from his would-be subjects.
He placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a loud, low whistle.
At first, only silence greeted him.
He felt the rumble of the ground even before he saw the pale shape of his ethereal stallion galloping toward him and glowing in the moonlight.
Nyx was all muscle under his snow-white velvet coat. The long, silken hair on his mane, tail and fetlocks floated backward as he moved, almost as if he were underwater, exaggerating the effect of his already frightening speed.
“Nyx,” Cullen said as the beast thrust its massive forehead against his chest in greeting.
He stroked the pale cheek once, as the stallion snorted and pranced.
“Let’s go,” Cullen said, swinging onto his broad back.
The steed knew instinctively which way Cullen wanted him to go. He ran swiftly, hooves striking the loamy earth in a hellish cadence.
Cullen felt his body rhythm adjust to Nyx’s stride until they were moving as one, as they always had.
As the moonlit landscape blurred past them, Cullen closed his eyes and tested the night air for the scent of tea roses.
3
Jessica
Jessica Bell stepped out of her cottage and sucked in a deep breath of dewy morning air.
Aerin, her palomino pony, nickered and trotted over to greet her.
“Hello, my friend,” Jessica said fondly, stroking the pony’s creamy white mane.
She luxuriated in the smell of the fresh flowers all around, and the warmth from the sun kissing her cheeks and the velvet fur under her hand - all the pleasures of daily life.
But something was different today.
She shook her head to rid herself of the strange thought.
Every day was the same here - a perfect, sheltered life full of delicious meals and bright colors and every comfort Jessica could desire.
The silent queen had taken Jessica from that awful ballroom with the snickering dancers and deposited her here in the country, where she could enjoy
a simple life of nature and study.
The queen had given her the pony, the house, and the time and freedom to read and relax as much as she liked.
Jessica knew she was being treated like a spoiled pet, but it was hard to mind when her life was so enjoyable.
Except that something was missing.
She just couldn’t remember what.
Usually, she had this feeling only in dreams. That was the only unpleasant part of her existence here. Nearly every night she had dreams where she searched frantically for something important, but never found it.
“Never mind,” she said to herself. “Time for breakfast.”
She and the pony took a leisurely stroll around the cottage to the grove in back, where a table waited under the weeping willow.
Each morning, a meal of fruit and tea appeared here.
She was relieved to see that today was no exception. The table had been covered with a lace cloth. A platter of sliced fruit glistened beside a cup and a steaming teapot.
“See, Aerin,” she said. “It was nonsense.”
The pony whiskered at the mention of her name and Jessica laughed.
She sat and took a bite of the fruit.
Normally, the flavor hit her like a waterfall, filling her senses with sweet, tart goodness.
Today it tasted more like the fruit she remembered from her days in the other world - sweet and wholesome, but not a revelation.