Meredith offered more than physical resilience, though. A treasure inside and out, she had become his only refuge in a brutal, bloody eternity.

A shrill voice suddenly blasted through his mind. —Stop what you’re doing and come to Hivetta. Shirtless! I might as well enjoy the view as we discuss queendom business. And hurry!—

Bane jerked. Only one person ever communicated with him via telepathy. Queen Aveline the Great, chosen by fate and imbued with preternatural powers. My master and tormentor.

Like all queens and princesses in the ruling class, Aveline could speak telepathically with her people, heal swiftly and teleport; she also had a special power all her own: the ability to drain a life force with only a touch.

Meredith continued to ride him, unaware of his distraction.

He replied to the queen, I’m busy. Can this wait an hour? Foolish question. He knew Aveline well. They’d been childhood sweethearts, until the once kind and considerate royal had grown into a cruel and selfish queen. Now, her impatience knew no bounds. Or thirty—twenty—ten minutes, just ten.

He didn’t wish to leave his wife unsatisfied.

—You have five minutes. Fail to appear before me, and I’ll make your bride a widow. Ticktock.—

Aveline never uttered empty threats.

In his four centuries of life, Bane had watched six different princesses ascend to power. No matter how sweet the female, something dark and insidious always infected her during the coronation ceremony, a violent process known as the Blood Rite. Swirling golden runes would appear on her skin, an eternal brand that somehow torched anything good and right, creating an entitled, self-indulgent, intemperate entity with no moral compass.

“I’m sorry, love,” he grated, already losing his...edge. “I must go. The queen has commanded my presence.”

“What?” Meredith beat her fists against his chest. “You can’t leave me like this.”

“I won’t.” He reached between their bodies, pressed the pad of his thumb against her clitoris and brought her to a swift climax. As her inner walls squeezed his length, he gritted his teeth and wheeled her to the side, and withdrew from paradise. What remained of his pleasure dovetailed into agony. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, jumping from bed to wrangle his erection behind a pair of black leathers.

She sagged onto the mattress and grinned. “My poor baby. You’ll never fit that thing inside your pants.” The grin ebbed. With a tilt of her chin, she motioned to his shaft. “Aveline has the worst timing.”

“Aveline has the worst everything.”

Muffled voices drifted through the walls, a chorus of laughter following. Right now, Bane and Meredith lived in the army barracks next door to Hivetta, the royal palace, where jagged crystal walls were set in a honeycomb pattern.

Over the years, Hivetta had become the beating heart of the entire realm—and a prison rather than a home.