~6~ PAINTED LIES

RHAIN

I've been called madman, lunatic, tyrant, monster, devil. None of them come close.

The truth is far simpler: I am a dead man walking who has finally found the only woman capable of killing me... and I can't stop craving her.

Bella lies beneath me on black silk sheets, her blind greyish blue eyes wide with tears and confusion, her body already betraying her. Her honey-jasmine scent is thick in the air, mixed with the sweet musk of her arousal.

My cock is painfully hard, straining against my pants like a beast demanding to be freed. But I keep control.

For now.

"Would you tell me the truth if I asked?" she whispers, her voice shaking.

Oh, darling. If I told you the truth, you'd beg me to slit your throat tonight.

I smile against her skin.

"Always," I lie smoothly, dragging my fingers up her soaked panties. "I will never lie to you."

She gasps as I press two thick fingers against her swollen clit, rubbing slow, cruel circles through the drenched fabric.

"Why me?" Her voice breaks into a needy whimper. "My sister—"

I don't let her finish. I shove the lace aside and plunge two fingers deep into her tight, dripping cunt.

"Fuck," I growl low, feeling her walls clamp down greedily. Hot. Wet. Mine.

She cries out, her back arching right away. Her full, heavy breasts strain against the thin dress, her nipples hard and begging.

I latch my mouth onto one through the fabric, sucking hard while I fuck her with my fingers. Deep, possessive strokes that curl against that sweet spot inside her.

"You were always meant to be mine, Bella," I rasp, my voice thick with centuries of hunger. "Not your sister. Not anyone else. You."

Her hips buck desperately against my hand. I add a third finger, stretching and claiming her. Wet, obscene sounds fill the room as I pump faster, my thumb grinding mercilessly on her swollen clit.

"Please—Your Majesty—I can't—" She sobs, her thighs trembling hard around my wrist.

I can feel her walls fluttering and tightening, right on the edge.

I rip my fingers out.

She wails in frustration, her hips chasing empty air, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

"No! Please—don't stop—" The words tear out of her before she can swallow them. Shame and desperate need war on her face.

I drink it in like the monster I am.

I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. My body cages hers completely. She fits so perfectly beneath me. So soft. So fucking breakable.

"Look at you," I murmur darkly, my voice low even as hunger buzzes through my veins. "Already dripping for the mad king. Already begging. This cunt knows its owner, even if you don't."

I grind my erection against her thigh, letting her feel exactly how hard I am for her.

"The others didn’t matter," I tell her softly, brushing my lips over her racing pulse. "They were nothing. But you... you are my salvation, butterfly. Marry me. Be my queen. Let me ruin this perfect body every single night."

Fresh tears slip down her temples.

"You're lying," she chokes out, her hips twitching against me. "This isn't real. You'll kill me like the rest—"

I cut her off with a bruising kiss, devouring her mouth while my free hand slides back between her legs, slapping her swollen clit lightly.

She jerks and moans into my mouth.

"I'm not your toy. Stop…stop…stop touching me!" She cries.

A smirk tugs at my lips. There's my firecracker.

I want to consume her.

To ruin her. To keep her forever.

However, this game of mine requires patience.

I pull back just enough to growl against her lips.

"You don't have a choice, little mate. You belong to me now. Body. Soul. Future. All of it."

She sobs weakly, her body shaking with denied release.

I kiss her tears away, tasting salt and fear and unwanted desire.

"Get some sleep, my queen," I whisper, keeping my voice deceptively gentle. "Our wedding is tomorrow. And on our wedding night... I won't stop until you're screaming my name and dripping with my cum."

I rise from the bed, leaving her panting, aching, and ruined on the sheets.

If I stay for another second, I won’t be able to stop.

Her frustrated, humiliated sob follows me out the door. Against my wishes, the sounds pull at somewhere deep in my chest, crushing me.

In the cold corridor, I lean against the stone wall and bring my soaked fingers to my mouth, sucking her taste off them with a savage groan.

Fuck.

Centuries of emptiness, and now she's here... warm, soft, and so bloody addictive.

I will make her love me.

No matter how many lies it takes. No matter how much it destroys us both.

...

The next morning,

I stand before the full-length mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my tailored black Armani suit. The reflection staring back is every inch the powerful Lycan King. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, and violet eyes that have seen empires rise and fall.

But inside, the five-petal curse burns hotter than ever.

The door opens.

"Your Majesty", Cain, my Beta, steps in. "Everything is prepared. The ceremony begins in thirty minutes."

I nod.

He hesitates. "Can you truly go through with it? Making her love you... only to end her?"

I meet his eyes in the mirror.

"I want to live, Cain. After all these centuries... I want to keep breathing without being in pain."

The door bursts open without a knock.

My mother sweeps in like a hurricane in her elegant emerald dress, diamonds flashing at her throat. Her golden eyes are filled with fury.

Right on time.

"Why is that girl still breathing, Rhain?" she hisses, grabbing my hand. "You know exactly who she is. The one who cursed you. The one whose death sealed your fate lifetimes ago. Yet you are about to take her to the altar? Have you lost your goddamn mind?"

I turn slowly, keeping my expression calm. The charming, lovesick mask slips effortlessly into place.

"Mother," I say, "Bella is my fated mate. I love her so much. You wouldn't understand."

Her eyes go wide, fear flashing in them. "Every night she lives is another risk. The five-petal curse is draining you faster than before. End her quickly, before she ends you."

I gently pry her hand off and press a gentle kiss to the back of her palm.

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

My mother searches my face for a long moment, then turns on her heel and storms out, the door slamming behind her.

Cain clears his throat. "The ceremony begins in thirty, your grace."

Just as I turn towards the door, Meredith, my Gamma speaks to me through the mind link.

'Your majesty! Your bride is missing!'

For the first time in centuries, I, Rhain Corven, feel real fear… and something far worse.