Phoenix13: Redemption (Phoenix13 Book 2)

Part #9: Love and War: Prologue

Prologue

Winter in Nathandria never touched the King's chambers. For seven days and seven nights the icy north wind had battered the citadel to no avail, eventually exhausting itself and slinking away into the west.

Every evening after dinner during this week, Morgan had settled herself down by the single window in Skyler's room and watched for snow. It was only after a storm came and went without a hint of precipitation that she remembered: the city's protective dome would evaporate any snow before it reached the ground.

Despite being protected from the elements, the citadel was rarely warm enough for Morgan's liking. Even in Skyler's room where servants kept a blazing fire going twenty-four/seven, temperatures often dipped to unacceptable levels overnight. On the nights when this happened, Morgan was forced to cuddle up closer to the King than was truly comfortable, curled around him like a spoiled cat.

On the morning of her eighth day in Nathandra, Morgan awoke promptly at seven A.M. Stomach clenching uncomfortably, she heaved off the thick goose-down comforter and dove for the bathroom. Just in time, her fingers curled around the silver toilet seat and she retched into the bowl. Acid burned in her throat and nose. Tears sprung to her eyes. She wiped her mouth with shaking fingers, her mind racing with fear and possibilities. What the shit?

There was a knock on the door. "What the hell's going on? Makayah, are you in there?" It was Skyler. His voice was low and rough from sleep.

Morgan sat back on her haunches, still wiping her mouth. Her tongue burned. Her stomach continued clenching painfully. "Sky, baby, I'm just finishing my makeup. I'll be with you soon."

"I'll be waiting." The King replied. She listened to his bare feet slapping the stone of the bedroom as he retreated. The bed creaked as he collapsed back onto it. She let out a breath of relief.

When she'd rinsed out her mouth and quickly dabbed on black eyeshadow and mauve lipstick, she slid open the bathroom door and remerged. She wore nothing but a thin silken scarf wrapped around her hips. The smooth material caressed her thighs, gliding against her mocha skin. "My King." Her slightly parted lips curved upward. Her eyes were hooded, peering up from under dark and luscious lashes.

"My whore," he replied, patting the bed beside him. "Or should I say my sister's whore." He answered her smile with a smirk.

She forced herself to move, one foot after the other, toward him. Sliding under the sheets, she spread one hand palm-down against his chest. Her sharpened nails dug into his unblemished skin. "I'm not hers anymore," she purred. "I'm yours. Every inch of me." She loved lying to him like this. Almost as much as knowing he believed every word.

He turned toward her and yanked the scarf off. He tossed it over his shoulder. There was lust in his gaze now, hot and bright.

Her smile faded. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, slow and seductive. The colored gloss melted in her mouth, thick and waxy. The taste of cherry exploded on her tongue. The light flavor chased away the lingering taste of bile. When Skyler leaned in to claim her mouth, rough and wild, she hoped to the gods that he couldn't taste her sickness.

"Skyler," she gasped into his throat, one hand tangling in his golden hair. She dug the fingers of her other hand deeper into the flesh of his shoulder, clinging to him as he flipped her over and trapped her hips between his knees. He growled, pressing his chest to hers. She gasped as his lips traveled down her throat, coming to rest between her breasts. His hands slid down to cover her stomach.