THE PRICE OF THE PETAL

The beast

Rowan's POV

: Her tears tasted like salt and something sweeter, like crushed poppy petals after summer rain. I should've licked them from her skin, should've reveled in the way her body trembled beneath mine. Instead, something in my chest twisted, a sensation too foreign to name. Mortals wept often, but never like this, never with their whole fragile hearts laid bare in every shuddering breath.

Isolda's eyes widened when I pulled back, her lips parting on a gasp that went straight to my c**k. f**k. She was ruinously beautiful like this, all flushed skin and tear-tangled lashes, her borrowed tunic slipping off one shoulder to reveal the delicate slope of her collarbone. The scent of her arousal still hung thick between us, undercut by the bitter tang of her fear. My fingers itched to trace the pulse fluttering at her throat, to mark that tender flesh with my teeth until she screamed.

"Stop crying," I commanded, harsher than intended. Her breath hitched, but the tears slowed. Good. I couldn't think with her looking at me like that, as if I were some monster from her mortal bedtime stories instead of the king whose bed she'd bargained herself into. My thumb brushed her cheekbone, smearing the dampness there. "Do you think I'd i'd take what isn't willingly given?" The word landed between us like a corpse.

She flinched, but her spine straightened. Fire sparked in those mortal eyes, there she was. My little thief had claws after all. "You threatened to burn me alive with ignis root," she whispered, voice raw. "Forgive me if I doubt your honor."

A laugh ripped from my throat. Gods, she was perfect. Brave enough to bite but still soft where it mattered. My hand slid into her hair, fisting just shy of pain. "Clever girl," I purred against her mouth. "But honor has nothing to do with it." I nipped her lower lip, savoring her gasp. "When I finally take you, it'll be with your thighs shaking around my hips and my name on your tongue."

The throne room doors groaned open. I snarled, shielding Isolda's half-bared body with my own as my captain hesitated at the threshold. "Speak," I commanded.

"The Briar-Hound whelps are ready for imprinting, my liege."

Ah. Perfect. I stood, dragging Isolda up with me. Her legs wobbled deliciously. "Change of plans, sweet liar," I murmured against her temple. "Let's see if you're as good with beasts as you are with thieves and kings."

Her confused whimper as I steered her toward the kennels was almost as sweet as her tears.

The palace kennels smelled of singed fur and smoked juniper, the scent sharp enough to make Isolda's nose wrinkle. Briar-Hounds lounged in their iron-wrought pens, their coats shimmering like molten obsidian, eyes glowing like banked coals. The alpha b***h raised her head as we entered, her growl vibrating the air between us.

Isolda froze. "They're beautiful," she breathed, fingers twitching at her sides as if aching to touch. Foolish, brave creature.

The whelps tumbled over each other in their nest of charred silk, tiny claws scraping against stone. One broke free, its stubby legs carrying it straight to Isolda's feet. It sniffed her toes, then let out a high-pitched yip before sinking needle teeth into her bootlace.

She laughed, actually laughed, the sound bright as sunlight through stained glass. Before I could stop her, she'd scooped the creature up, cradling it against her chest. The whelp went still, its nose pressed to the hollow of her throat where my teeth had been moments before.

"Mine," it rasped in that eerie, half-formed voice all Briar-Hounds possessed. Isolda gasped as its tiny claws pricked through her tunic, its body vibrating with the force of its purr.

The alpha b***h's growl cut off abruptly. She stared at us, ears flattened. Not in anger. In shock.

I couldn't blame her. Briar-Hounds chose warriors, killers, those with fire in their blood. Not soft-handed healers who smelled of crushed violets and desperation.

Yet there it was, the pup's claws had drawn blood, thin rivulets staining the tunic's fabric. Isolda didn't flinch. She merely stroked between its stubby horns, murmuring nonsense words as its purr deepened.

"Interesting," I murmured, stepping closer. The pup bared its teeth at me, a pathetic display that had my lips twitching. "It seems you've made a friend." My hand settled on the small of her back, possessive. "Or a rival."

Isolda lifted her chin, that damnable fire still burning in her eyes despite the tear tracks drying on her cheeks. The pup growled in echo of her defiance.

I couldn't decide whether to f**k her senseless or toss her to the hounds for sport. Perhaps both.

"Come," I said instead, steering her toward the doors. "The court awaits its newest pet." My fingers dug into her hip where the pup couldn't see. "Try to look less like a frightened rabbit this time."

She stiffened, but didn't pull away. The pup nuzzled her collarbone, its tiny tongue flicking out to taste her sweat.

Good. Let it learn her scent. Let it remember who she belonged to.

The throne room buzzed with hushed murmurs as we entered, courtiers' eyes darting between Isolda's disheveled state and the pup gnawing on her fingers. Their whispers slithered like vipers, mortal w***e, stolen bride, doomed plaything. I let them talk. Let them see how her chin lifted despite their venom, how her fingers never stopped stroking the hound's spiked spine.

"Kneel," I commanded, low enough for only her to hear.

Her breath hitched, but she obeyed, sinking gracefully to the black marble. The pup squirmed in her arms, whining when she set it down. It immediately circled her knees, hackles raised at the nearest courtier who dared step too close.

Lord Caelen sneered from the shadowed alcoves, his poison-tipped nails tapping against his goblet. "Really, Rowan? A mortal healer as your newest pet? At least the last one could sing."

Isolda flinched. Before I could slit his throat, the pup lunged, latching onto Caelen's boot with a snarl. The lord yelped, shaking his leg like a tavern dancer. Isolda's lips twitched, almost a smile, before she schooled her expression. Clever girl.

"Enough." My voice cracked through the hall. The pup released Caelen but kept bristling, its tiny spines raised in threat. I crouched beside Isolda, my fingers tracing the pup's jagged crest. "This one's yours," I murmured against her temple. "Feed it from your hand, let it sleep at your feet, and it'll rip out throats for you." My thumb brushed her lower lip, smearing a drop of blood from where she'd bitten it. "Consider it my courting gift."

The court gasped. Courting implied intention beyond a night's sport.Caelen's face purpled. "You can't, "

"I can." The throne room's torches flared as my magic surged. Isolda's breath hitched when the flames reflected in my eyes. "Any objections?" Silence. Good. I stood, dragging Isolda up with me. The pup scrambled after her, nipping at my boots in protest.

Her fingers trembled in mine, not from fear now, but from the pup's eager tugs at her hem. "What do I feed it?" she whispered, so mortal in her concern.

"Whatever you like." I shrugged. "Blood. Honeycomb. The fingers of insolent lords." Caelen choked on his wine.

Isolda's laugh was startled, bright as the pup's glowing eyes. The sound curled around my ribs like smoke. Dangerous.

Then the pup sneezed, a tiny flame erupting from its nostrils that singed her sleeve. She yelped, shaking her arm as the court erupted in laughter, mocking laughter, the kind that scraped raw against my patience. My fingers tightened around hers, hard enough to bruise. "Laugh again," I said softly, "and I'll feed you to the hounds feet-first." The silence that followed tasted sweeter than summer wine.

Isolda's fingers twitched in mine, warm and alive despite their trembling. The pup growled at her scorched sleeve, licking the charred fabric with a rough tongue. She looked down at it, her lips parting in wonder as its spines flattened in contrition. "It's alright," she murmured, stroking between its stubby horns. The pup whined, pressing its damp nose to her palm.

The court watched in slack-jawed disbelief. Briar-Hounds didn't apologize. They didn't whimper. They certainly didn't nuzzle mortal girls who smelled of crushed violets and desperation. Yet this one did, its tail thumping against the marble as she scratched behind its ears.

Caelen's goblet clattered to the floor. "That's impossible," he hissed.

I bared my teeth in something too sharp to be a smile. "You keep saying that word." My thumb traced the pulse fluttering at Isolda's wrist. "Yet here we are."

The pup chose that moment to scramble up her skirts, its tiny claws snagging in the fabric as it climbed to her shoulder. It perched there like some bizarre living stole, its glowing eyes daring anyone to approach. Isolda laughed again, the sound bright enough to make my chest ache.

Dangerous indeed.

Lord Caelen opened his mouth, likely to spew more poison, when the pup belched a stream of fire that singed his beard. The court's laughter died in their throats as he screeched, batting at the flames.

Isolda clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth. The pup preened, its spines rattling in satisfaction.

"Yours indeed," I murmured against her temple, inhaling the wildflower scent of her hair. The pup growled low in its throat, pressing closer to her neck. Possessive little beast.

She turned her face toward mine, her breath warm against my jaw. "What now?" she whispered.

I caught her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up to mine. The pup bristled but didn't bite. Progress. "Now," I said, low enough that only she could hear, " i make you fall in love with me

." Her pulse stuttered beneath my touch. "Starting with this."

The throne room blurred around us as I pulled her into the shadowed alcove behind the obsidian tapestries. Her back hit the cold stone wall, the pup scrambling to balance on her shoulder as I crowded her against it. Moonlight from the high windows caught in her lashes, silvering each rapid blink.

"Is this how faerie kings court?" she breathed, her fingers twisting in my tunic. The pup growled its approval.

I nipped her lower lip, savoring her gasp. "Only the cruel ones." My knee slid between her thighs, pressing just shy of where she wanted me most. Her hips jerked involuntarily. The scent of her arousal thickened, clouding my thoughts better than any spell.

The pup sneezed, breaking the moment. Isolda giggled, the sound muffled against my chest. Ridiculous creature. I should've been furious. Instead, I found my thumb tracing the curve of her smile.