The King's Cursed Bride

Indebted

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to aDropofBeauty for her loyalty to the story and all of her comments. Especially in my early writing days, comments were essentially the life blood of my storytelling inspiration. Because of some amazing people, like aDropofBeauty, I consistently look forward to writing the next chapter of KCB. (Hey... that kind of sounds like KGB... Creepy.)

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The painlessness was intoxicating. Every breath, every step, was euphoria.

Carissa slipped away from Elon to walk a few steps by herself. But walking wasn't merely enough; she wanted to run. Carissa clutched the sheet to her chest and darted across the room before stopping short of the wall. She glanced back at Elon.

He stood with his hip propped against the bed frame, arm folded, as he watched her with a faint smile and tender gaze.

She darted to the other end of the room, the sheet flapping against her ankles, her wet hair streaking behind her. Her chest stretched with the need for more air, and she savored the warmth left in the wake of her dash. It seemed like an eternity since she'd been able to run and pant.

She veered away from the wall, ran back to Elon, and launched herself into him with a bounding leap. She fell against him and flung her arms around his neck as he wrapped his around her waist.

Her heart rammed against her chest and, pressed against him as she was, she was certain he could feel the vibrations. As his arms tightened around her, she studied the King, now her husband, without reserve.

A golden tan darkened his skin, infusing his features with a subtle glow. His cinnamon-colored eyes seemed to be crinkled in a perpetual smile, even when his lips didn't move. The sun-kissed tips of his wavy brown hair curled around his ears, grazed his forehead.

She threaded her fingers through his hair before sliding the crown off his head. Though her heart thudded faster, harder, never before had she felt so daring. And then she dusted a kiss against his lips. She wanted to thank him, over and over and over, for what he'd done for her. For how he loved her.

When she rocked back on her heels, Elon didn't pursue the kiss further. She doused her disappointment, set his crown back on his head, and smiled up at him. "You don't happen to have a extra pair of clothes, do you?" She set her hand against the warm, smooth skin of his chest. "It seems someone has taken mine."

Her hand quaked uncontrollably against him, and she suppressed the urge to snatch it back. It was official: she was an abominable flirt. She wanted to act as a normal bride would on her wedding night and give him the very best of what she had to offer, but her instincts screamed against it, urging her to shy away from his presence and touch.

He pressed his hand on top of hers, holding it against his chest. "I believe there's a chemise in the wardrobe." He nodded towards the wooden one in the corner.

"Thank you." She slipped her hand away from him and strode to the wardrobe—but stopped short. Draped over a chair next to the vanity was a river of pearlescent fabric. She wrapped the sheet around herself and tucked in the top edge, so it wouldn't fall, and picked up the length of fabric. "What's this?" The fabric unfurled to the floor, revealing the shape of a white gown. It felt smooth and taut beneath her hand. No doubt it would mold to the curves of its wearer.

"That, Carissa, is lingerie."

"Oh. Why didn't you tell me to wear this, then?"

He scrubbed a hand across his blushing face. "If you intend to sleep tonight—and sleep only—I thought a chemise would be the wiser choice."

Carissa hugged the gown to her chest. "I can do it." She stared at him, so he would know she wasn't just referring to wearing the lingerie but what came after.

His brows dipped in a teeny tiny frown. He was cute when he was concerned. "Carissa, if you need time to heal—"

"I'm fine."

He arched his brows but didn't gainsay her claim. "If that's what you wish."

She nodded. "Now, turn so I can change."

He grinned. "Turn? Carissa, if you do intend to bond tonight, what's the point of having me avert me eyes? Or even wearing a pretty gown? You'll only have to take it off again."

Now she was the one blushing. "Elon."

Laughter burst from his lips. "Very well, very well. I'm only here to serve, you know." He bowed with a flourish.

"And you'd do well to remember it," she muttered.

Elon shook his head with a chuckle, closed the distance between them, and wisped a kiss across her cheek. "I'm glad you didn't lose your spirit, Carissa." He slipped a new shirt on before striding towards the door. "While you change, I'll find us something to drink. Before we do anything, I'd like to talk." The door snicked shut behind him.

A man wanting to talk on his wedding night. How strange. Not that she'd had many wedding nights, but the other men hadn't wanted to talk at all. In fact, the one time she'd spoken—pleading one to be more gentle—he'd hit her.

Elon was a strange one. She liked him.

Carissa dropped the sheet, and it pooled at her feet. She pulled the gown over her head, and it stuck to her wet skin. With a few tugs, she managed to slip it on. She darted over the mirror.

The sleeves and skirt of the gown were an opaque white at the top before melting into translucent gauze at the bottom, leaving her ankles and wrists visible. The back dipped down in a sharp 'V,' while the front clung to her every curve. She spun, letting the fabric flutter in the air. The gown felt like cream and clouds against her skin, and she loved every inch of it.

She stopped spinning, and the gauzy clothe twirled around her ankles before settling. Now all she had to do was not think of what wearing it would entail, and everything would go perfectly.

A knock sounded at the door.

The pulse in her neck throbbed, and she pressed a hand to her chest as she slowed her breathing. Elon, Elon, just Elon. "Come in."

The door opened. Not Elon.

Carissa stumbled backwards, until her legs entangled with the chair's and she thumped onto the seat. "Akar?" Her voice squeaked unbecomingly on the last syllable, and she cringed.

Though his breadth filled the doorway and his dark gaze speared hers and his stench seared her nose from across the room, she couldn't believe he was there—wouldn't believe it. Somehow, she must have fallen asleep, and this was all a twisted nightmare.

Carissa rolled to her feet, feeling a brief spurt of gratitude that she could do so with ease. She pointed. "Get. Out."

His eyes were steel and ice as he withdrew a dagger from his belt. "You sold yourself to me, Carissa, and you've yet to pay your debt." His lips tipped upward in a sneer, a hideous distortion of a smile. "I've come to collect."

***

Author's Note:

Author: Cliff hanger, hanging from a cliiiifffff! And that's why she's called cliff hanger!

Reader: Excuse me! Excuse me!

Author: I find my reader where I left her last, hanging from a cliff.

Reader: Can't. Hold. On. Much. Looonngggeerrr!

Author: I know. That's what the sneak peeks are for, love. And, as always, you can find as an external link here or at the top of my profile *winks*