Alexandria's Knight

Balso

Dria

Remember before I got soapy when Adriel made that comment about me crying after sparring sessions when I was younger? And I said something like, You'd think I'd be used to it, even back then?

The Underworld isn't exactly youth-friendly and I was sentenced here at seventeen years old.

Wait a minute, hear me out. It isn't as bad as it sounds though I know you're thinking it sounds pretty damn bad. A teenager, sent to The Underworld? Isn't it bad enough she died!

I know, right?

Or worse, you're thinking, Uck, a monster. What did she do to get a one-way ticket to the Bad Place?

Listen. Some souls go to The Underworld because they're meant to. A good soul like mine becomes a demon by destiny. We become the ruling class of Hell. We punish the sinners and guide the lost. Balanced souls, or balso— not too good but not too evil —like mine descend not because we're all meant to burn for all eternity but so that Heaven and Earth have a tipping point for the scales to reference. Without souls like mine, Hell would be so out of order that the apocalypse would've come and gone already. Like I said, you're welcome.

I wouldn't have chosen The Underworld as the final destination for my soul but supposedly there's a plan for why I'm down here. It isn't a question of faith. I'm just following my heart and my ambitions to the end.

It's sometime in the middle of the night and I'm up reading little piles of reports that are scattered around on the king-sized bed. The Underworld is hardly a bureaucracy but there's so much news involving The Underworld that sometimes there's no choice but to leave a paper trail just to explain it all.

I keep sighing and I feel restless. Ordinarily at a time like this I'd just call it quits and have some me time before bed again but tonight I want to direct my restlessness at someone.

The someone that's causing it.

I call for the guard at the door to go get him—his name is Capella, I think. As I give my order, I see Fane out there standing with him guarding the door, shaking his head like he already knows this is nothing but trouble. I ignore him as the door closes again.

I move the blankets off of me, revealing an ivory silk corset, panties, and robe, and arrange myself on the bed like I've been waiting awhile as the doors of my chambers open again.

Adriel pads in, barefoot and shirtless. I swear he wants to drive me crazy as I eye his chest where there's a long, pale scar curving under his right pectoral. I've always wanted to kiss that scar. Lick it and follow the length of it with my tongue. His hair is pulled back on top with the rest hanging down his back. His hands are tucked into the pockets of dark blue plaid pajama bottoms. His expression is languid with sleep, eyelids low over his violet eyes.

I woke him up. Good. Maybe I've caught him off guard for once.

He stands a few feet from the foot of the bed.

"My Queen," he says. He remove his hands from his pocket for a bow before returning them there. Its then that I notice he isn't looking directly at me. He's looking at a point just beyond my left shoulder.

My confident smile wanes.

"Look at me," I tell him. "You won't look at me because you don't want me." I lean forward to peer more closely into his eyes, anger and pain blazing in my gut. "I want to hear you say it, Adriel. Say the words."

"My Queen, this is highly inappropriate," he says. He actually says that. "My eyes should not be upon you like this."

I spread my knees, showing everything down there, and Adriel draws a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling.

"The words, Adriel," I demand.

He swallows hard, the strong column of his throat working. "My Queen is utterly desirable. But...I cannot—"

"Cannot or will not?" I sigh. "This has to stop, Adriel. I want you by my side as my King. I don't want to command that you do this. You're not leaving me a lot of choice." How can he stand there and tell me I'm "utterly desirable" but refuse to look at me the way a man looks at a woman? A partially naked damn woman.

I hate to be impatient but I hate being the only one doing the chasing more. He won't talk to me so I can't convince him. He won't look at me so I can't tempt him.

"You know who doesn't have a problem looking at me like I'm utterly desirable and showing me that's what he thinks?" I say venomously. "Sahir. I think I'll give him a call. You're free to leave. I'll have company soon so let the guards know to expect him."

Dismissing Adriel, I close my legs, scoot off the bed and go to get my phone from the jacket I had on earlier that's hanging on the coat hanger near the wall. Angry tears burn in my eyes but I push them back. I really am calling Sahir and I refuse to be a mess when he gets here.

Adriel

Outside of a fight, I've never moved so fast. I nearly shock myself. One second I'm standing near the foot her bed, begging God for mercy, eyes on the ceiling. The next my hand is on Dria's wrist, stopping her from reaching into her coat pocket. My fingers hold firmly, not hurting her but not letting her get into that pocket to slide out the phone either. In a battle of strength, she would be an adversary of mention for me but she doesn't fight me.

"Don't," I say, giving a slow shake of my head. "Don't. Do. That."

Dria is looking up at me, wide-eyed again. Her eyes shift to red and I actually feel her legs go weak as she dips.

I like that. I like that I've shocked her. I like how she looks at me even when I pretend not to notice.

What I don't like is what she's trying to do.

It's not an option. I flat fucking refuse to let her call me into her bedroom in the middle of the night, clearly wanting to do more than talk about the guard duty roster, and then leave while she calls in another man to take what she wants to give to me.

Dria slowly pulls her wrist out of my grip.

"Get on the bed," she says.

I'm frozen in place. Mouth dry. Praying silently that I didn't just hear those words.

"Do I need to make it order for you to do it?"

Am I nodding? Oh, shit, I am. I'm nodding and getting harder.

She holds my hands for a beat, lacing our fingers and squeezing. As she walks away from me and lets go, she says over her shoulder, "Your Queen is ordering you to get on the bed, Adriel." Those red eyes lure me after her.

She goes over and scoops up the document scattered all over the bedspread. I lie down in the spot she'd gotten out of and stare up at the ceiling. I shift my hair out from under my back, then lay there trying to control my breathing. The lights go off and I wait. Dria doesn't waste time. Her warm, soft weight comes down on top of me as she straddles my body. Bending over me, she licks the scar on my chest, running her hot, wet tongue Her teeth nip at me and she kisses one nipple then the other. Sitting up, she rolls her silk covered crotch against hardness of me through my pants, sliding back and forth, back and forth. Mimicking sex, acting like I'm inside her.

God, I want to be inside her.

Suddenly she stops and leans over me, this time stretching over me and pressing close. I almost groan in frustration.

"I can't tell what you want if you don't talk to me, Adriel," she says in my ear, her voice low and breathy. "I won't be seen as a queen who takes advantage of her subjects so I'll stop. I want you to stay but if you want to leave I won't stop you." She slides off of me and tucks herself tight to my side. The last thing she does before using my chest as pillow is grab my hand and curl it around that luscious ass of hers.

I'm left lying there, half beneath her, hard and pounding. It is a long time before I fall into a light sleep.