His Hidden Desire (18+)

Chapter 5

Danaë awoke at the knock of the maid, coming in to reinvigorate the fire.

"Sorry to disturb you, Milady, but breakfast will be ready within the hour."

While the maid set about her work, Danaë slowly came back to the waking world. Sitting up, she felt the nauseous pressure of a headache – earned from crying herself to sleep. As she stood, she felt the soreness of other aches in unfamiliar places.

Underneath her nightgown, Danaë wore the lingering, sticky shame of last night.

"Would it be possible for me to take a bath before breakfast?"

"Of course." The maid stood, wiping her hands on her apron. "Let me go downstairs to arrange for the hot water and the tub."

Danaë nodded, and as the maid closed the door behind her. Danaë left the warmth of the bed to sit before the hearth.

The flames burned low yet as the fire took hold of the fresh logs. Bright orange tongues licked upward, scenting the air with the perfume of wood smoke.

Mesmerized, Danaë didn't realize that she was reaching toward it until she singed her finger and snatched her hand back.

Rubbing her tongue against the reddened bit of flesh, Danaë tasted the salty tang of her own skin.

A damned part of her mind couldn't help but compare it to the way Cenric had tasted last night.

Frowning with disgust, Danaë stood, walking to the narrow slit of the window and looking out.

The harsh, jagged edges of the mountains cut sharply against the bright, morning sky.

Danaë's breath caught in her throat.

I must leave...

Propriety demanded it.

Her sanity demanded it.

How could she stay?

The things Cenric had done last night... Danaë wasn't naïve enough to believe that he would stop. Not when he apparently believed that the use of her body was his payment for protecting her.

What would Mother say? Flushing from head to toe, Danaë couldn't begin to fathom how the Empress would react to the news. Her only child, violated - and by that uncultured beast, of all people.

Her eyes unfocused, and her thoughts travelled back to a conversation two years ago...

Danaë worked at her embroidery while her mother and father negotiated her future.

"An emissary from the Southern Kingdom arrived earlier this morning," Empress Dimitra announced, "They've asked for her hand for their eldest son."

Emperor Vasilis shook his head. "King Feliciano's ambitions stretch farther than his coffers."

"Then there's another offer from General Maxson – his couriers are coming every day now, seeking news." Dimitra named the leader of the Imperial forces in the southeast.

Vasilis answered her, "The man who succeeds my throne will be tasked with carrying on a lineage that was blessed by the Almighty himself. Maxson would be an indelible stain on that heritage."

Danaë didn't look up from her embroidery. This discussion did not require her input.

Still, as she stitched, she couldn't help but notice that seemingly every powerful family in the empire had made a bid for her hand in marriage. Accepting one offer meant rejecting the rest...

Stealing a quick glance at her parents, Danaë wondered at their trust. They seemed to believe that their choice for her father's successor would be accepted without resentment or animosity.

But, would it?

"Then, there's the proposal from King Cenric-" Empress Dimitra continued.

Danaë fought back the sudden heat in her cheeks. Cenric? King Cenric had proposed marriage?

Her memories of that night in the darkness remained vibrant and humiliating. The things she'd seen, the things he'd made her feel, they were too raw, too real to be forgotten.

Marriage? For a brief, forbidden moment, Danaë allowed herself to imagine what being married to Cenric would be like – what it would be like to have his hands on her, to have her body under his...

"No." Vasilis answered.

"No?" Dimitra asked.

"I'd rather send her into a wolf's den than let her marry that animal."

And that was the last word on the subject.