Glint (Plated Prisoner Book 2)

“Dammit.”

My hissed curse makes Jeo, the handsome male currently stretched out on my chaise, look over at me. “What’s wrong?”

I glance up from the letter and sigh, tossing it on my desk. “Franca Tullidge can’t meet with me because she isn’t currently in Highbell. She’s gone traveling for six months,” I say with irritation.

“And this is bad?” Jeo asks.

I rub my temples before leaning back in my chair to give him my full attention. “Yes, it’s bad. The Tullidge family has a private guard of seven hundred men. Men I might need, so it’s important I get her loyalty settled.”

Jeo springs to his feet, and I get momentarily distracted. Currently shirtless, the freckles on his skin are like flakes of cinnamon sprinkled over him, spice added to the muscled, decadent body they adorn.

He picks up the crystal pitcher on the table and fills two glasses of honeyed wine. I take a moment to enjoy his physique as he comes over with cups in hand, his walk like a panther, strong and graceful. The thick red hair on his head reminds me of the color of a fresh kill.

He places one glass in my hand before leaning against the edge of my desk. With his knee pressed against my thigh, I can feel the heat of his body even through the multiple layers of my skirt and his trousers.

“If it comes to that, if you need the noble houses to band with you, they’ll do it,” he says confidently, tipping the wine into his mouth as he swallows half the contents in one gulp.

I take a sip, amused. “Is that so?”

He nods. “It is so, my queen.”

“You sound awfully confident.”

Jeo downs the rest of it. “I am,” he replies with a shrug, setting the glass down. “You are a Colier. Orea might be dazzled by Midas’s gold, but it’s your bloodline, your name that Sixth Kingdom trusts. If you put out the call to arms, they’ll answer.”

I tap my fingertip against the glass. “We’ll see.”

I hope it doesn’t come to that, hope that I can get the pieces in place to force Midas’s hand, but I have to plan for every contingency. Tyndall, while lacking as a husband, excelled as a ruler. Not because he was trained for it as I was, but like Jeo said, he knows how to dazzle.

That man knows how to leave an impression, how to spin a narrative, how to gain the people’s awed fascination. He’s made a lot of nobles rich—nobles that I’ll never win over.

But, he’s also made a lot of enemies. He’s left a lot of people to complain at their lack. When King Midas turned Highbell Castle gold, he failed to realize exactly what kind of shadow it cast.

The commoners, the peasants, the laborers—those are the ones he neglected, the ones he deemed beneath him.

Once I’m finished going through the list of nobles I think I can sway, I’ll go for those forgotten masses next. The ones who were left to wallow in envy, left to stare after the castle in its immeasurable wealth.

Yes, a lot of people hate the king. His wife just happens to be one of them.

A slow smirk crosses my wine-whetted lips. I’m going to utterly destroy his narrative, wreck his public platform, crush his shiny façade.

By the time I’m through with him, I will make the Golden King a thing to despise. I will be the queen, beloved.

Jeo’s face morphs with a knowing grin. “I know that look,” he murmurs, pointing at me. “You’re plotting.”

A small laugh escapes me. “Of course I am.”

Plotting is what I’m best at. A good thing too, since I lack both of the traits that this world respects: power and a penis.

A shame that I lack the first, but the second? I’ve found that most of the people who have those are altogether disappointing.

My gaze shifts to Jeo’s crotch. Well, except for the ones you can buy.

When a knock on the door sounds, I let out a little sigh. I shouldn’t be surprised at the interruption. It’s hard to go even a few hours without someone needing something. Although, it’s a problem I embrace, because finally, I’m the one they come to. It’s my order they wait for. As it should be.

“Come in.”

My advisor, Wilcox, strides inside, his blue eyes skating straight to Jeo. His thin lips press together tightly, the only outward sign of dislike that he’ll show in front of me. Though I know on the inside, he’s ranting, just like he did when I first came down to dinner with Jeo on my arm.

Wilcox believes it’s unsavory for me to keep a saddle of my own so publicly, an opinion he let known at the dinner table.

Funny, I doubt he ever said such a thing to my husband, who kept a harem of saddles at all times. Not to mention that golden bitch.

Jeo straightens up from my desk and turns with a grin. He loves to rankle Wilcox now that he knows the older man disapproves so thoroughly.

My advisor stops in front of my desk, sweeping low with a bow. “Your Majesty, I hope I wasn’t interrupting.”

“Not yet,” Jeo says with a salacious wink.

Wilcox’s lips clamp down in irritation, though he likes to think the gesture is hidden behind the messy gray whiskers growing over his chin.

He ignores Jeo as my saddle walks around my chair to stand behind me. His large, strong hands come down to start kneading my shoulders. A display—to touch the queen so freely is a power play—and I allow it.

“Hmm, so tight, my queen,” Jeo coos.

My advisor’s face turns slightly mottled, while I try not to smirk. I can’t figure out if he hates our display because it’s a show of my blatant disloyalty to Tyndall or if it’s simply because I’m a woman who has her own saddle.

Perhaps it’s a bit of both.

“Did you need something, Wilcox?” I ask evenly, while Jeo’s deft fingers continue to massage my skin in deliciously firm strokes.

Wilcox’s gaze snaps back to me from where they’d drifted to Jeo’s touch. “Pardon. This missive came for you,” he says, stepping forward.

I reach my hand out, taking the rolled parchment from him. “Thank you.” When my eyes fall to the red wax seal, my pulse jumps, though I don’t let anything show on my face. “You’re dismissed, Wilcox.”

My advisor turns on his heel and leaves, apparently all too ready to be gone from my saddle’s presence.

As soon as the door closes behind him, I release the breath that got caught in my chest.

“What’s wrong? I’d say you’re white as a ghost, but that’s always true,” Jeo teases.

I don’t give him a dry laugh, though. I’m too busy staring down at the blank stamp pressed into the cracked wax, sigil absent—telling of exactly who this letter is from.

“It’s the Red Raids.”

Jeo’s touch pauses on my neck. “The pirates answered?”

A hum is my only reply before I slip my finger beneath the curled flap and break the seal. Unfurling the small scrap of paper, I quickly read the letter, noting the smeared ink, the sloppy scrawl. Honestly, I should be glad the thieves can even write.

I read the message again, chest pounding. “Great Divine…”

“What is it?” Jeo asks, coming around, his beautiful face marred with a frown.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

My eyes flick up at him as all the implications run through my mind. “They don’t have her.”

His blue eyes widen. “The golden bitch? Why the hell not?” he demands. “You gave them plenty of time to get their sorry asses to the Barrens in time.”

Shaking my head, I drop the letter and stand up from my seat, pacing a few steps away.

“Malina…”

I spin to face him, and he blinks in dumbfounded surprise at the brilliant grin that’s spreading over my face. “Fourth’s army came to their ship,” I whisper, awed. “They took the saddles, the guards, everyone.”

His red brows shoot up. “The gilded cunt?”

My smile is so wide my cheeks hurt. “They have her too.”

Jeo’s lips pull back, cheeks moving to match my grin. He knows what a win this is for me. I thought the Red Raids would be a good place for her. But this? This is so much better. “Fuck, yes!” Jeo exclaims. “This calls for more wine.”

While he pours himself another cup, laughter spills from my chest, husky and quiet, a sound I haven’t uttered in years.

She’s gone. She’s finally gone.

I won’t ever have to lay eyes on her again. Won’t ever have to watch the way Tyndall looks at her, the way his gaze grows hungry every time she enters the room.

His precious little favored is gone, taken by his worst made-enemy, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

Victory is sweet.

I shake my head, almost unable to believe this turn of events. “They’re going to rip her to shreds,” I say, my tone tinged with thrill.

“Worse than the snow pirates,” Jeo agrees, finishing off another half cup of wine before passing it to me.

I take it from him and swallow a hearty gulp while he picks up the letter, amused eyes skimming over it. “Ha, the whiny bastards are mad! Lost the saddles to Fourth and their captain jumped ship with their gold too. Bad luck.”

“I’ll have Uwen send them a crate of gold to make it up to them,” I say. At Jeo’s surprised look, I shrug. “They’re glorified mercenaries. With enough coin to assuage them, I can keep them as allies.”

My saddle walks over and slips a hand around my waist. “My queen is viciously brilliant.”

I smile before taking another drink, then press the rim of the glass to his mouth. He watches me with heavy-lidded eyes as I tip it back, letting the rest of the drink slip into his mouth. As soon as it’s drained, he puts the cup on the desk and tugs me close with his hands on my hips.

I tilt my head, welcoming the hungry look in his expression. With that being all the invitation he needs, Jeo presses his mouth against my neck and starts peppering kisses and nips over the sensitive skin.

My eyes flutter closed as he trails up to my jaw, and when his lips meet mine, I let out a little moan of satisfaction, a fire stoking low in my belly.

I like the idea of fucking him while knowing that I’ve taken all of Tyndall’s favorite toys away. His favorite harem of saddles is gone, while mine cups my ass and grinds his length into me.

I slip my tongue against Jeo’s, and all I taste is sweetly spiced wine and wicked victory.

“Mmm, delicious,” he murmurs against my lips.

“The wine?” I ask with a coy smile.

“You,” he replies. “I love it when you get devious, but when those plots of yours succeed and you get that look about you? Makes me hard as a rock.”

To prove his point, he grinds his hips into my front, letting me feel the impressive length of him beneath the pleat of his pants. “I’m going to take you right now, my queen,” he says, teeth running over the edge of my ear. “Going to fuck you on your desk with that nefarious, devilish smile on your face.”

My stomach lurches with needy heat, with the thrill of his filthy words, with lust that was never mine before. I was always ignored, set aside.

No more.

“Make it good,” I order with an imperious purr before I reach down and cup him. He groans into my ear, and the sound makes me shiver with feminine power.

Jeo reaches down and picks me up, walking a couple paces before setting me on my desk. His hands reach beneath my skirts, the many layers bunching as he shoves them to my waist.

When his fingers brush against the wet curls at the apex of my thighs, he grins and nips at my lip. “Such a naughty queen.”

“Stop talking and fuck me.”

He laughs as he undoes the tie at his trousers, dropping them around his ankles. “At your service, Your Majesty.”

Jeo thrusts into me a second later, so hard that my body slides backwards against the wood. But it’s good. It’s what I want, what I ordered, and I shall have it.

He leans in, hands holding my hips in place as he moves in and out of me in powerful strokes. “Does this please my queen?” he asks, mouth pressing against my neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin.

It does, but I want more. I want all the things Midas never gave me.

I shove at Jeo’s chest. “Down.”

The side of his mouth quirks up, but he dutifully slips out of me before lying on the floor. The thrill of it, the power, the pleasure, it sings in my veins as I look down at him with hungry eyes.

Slipping off the desk, I stand over him, leg on either side, and I stare. Jeo groans when my sight lingers on his proud cock jutting up. “Please, my queen. Don’t be so cruel.”

I like when he begs.

Lifting my skirts, I bend my knees and lower myself slowly, sinking onto him just the way I like. A queen sitting on her throne.

Sweat beads on his brow, his hands tightening at my waist, but I continue to move unhurriedly, enjoying the friction of his hardness as it stretches me. I rise up and down with my head tilted back in bliss, grinding into him with decadence.

“Fuck, Your Majesty,” he grits out.

My entire body is singing as I take what I want, as I get the pleasure I went so long without. Never again. Never again will I sit idly by.

I will take what I want, whenever I want.

“Yes, you will,” Jeo says, letting me know that I spoke those thoughts aloud. “Take it fucking all, so long as you come on my cock.”

My throaty laugh cuts off when he thrusts his hips up into me, making him go deeper, harder, hitting that hidden part of me that I never knew was there before—not until him.

I take and take, letting it feed the hunger inside of me, the hunger that’s only satisfied with pleasure and power.

With a moan, he starts to relentlessly fuck me from beneath, while I ride my saddle for all he’s worth, rising higher to that unspeakable peak.

My pleasure cracks like splintered ice, and a breathy sigh of release crawls out of my throat. Three more grinding thrusts, and then Jeo curses with his release, his spend coating my insides with a foreign, wet heat.

Sagging on top of him, I let my nails score over the muscles of his chest, leaving red scratches on his freckled skin.

“Well?” he asks with a satisfied grin as he breathes hard, hands moving to prop behind his head. “Did I make it good, my queen?”

After another moment of catching my breath, I stand up, enjoying the groan he emits as I slip off him. “You did well enough,” I say breezily as I walk toward the door that leads to my bedroom and washroom. “But I require you to wash me and clean up your mess.”

A second later, I hear him get up, feet padding after me. Hot lips appear at my ear as he grabs my hips. “Only if I can do it with my tongue.”

A smirk crosses my face. “You’ll do whatever your queen orders you to.”

I get rewarded with his laugh. “Yes, Your Majesty, I will.”

And so will everyone else.