The Jaded King (The Dark Kings Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  The Jaded King

  The Jaded King

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Other Books written as Jovee Winters

  The Jaded King

  Copyright 2017 Jovee Winters

  Cover Art by Phatpuppy

  Formatted by D2D

  My super seekrit hangout!

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events, or places is purely coincidental. Though if you should spot a cute fairy or a lecherous imp, say hi for me.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher, Jovee Winters, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Jovee Winters.

  Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2017 by Jovee Winters, United States of America

  The Jaded King

  Once upon a time there was a guy named Gerard and a girl named Betty. He was Kingdom’s most notorious Lothario. She was a librarian from Earth. Magic brought them together. And a love was born that created one of the most enduring fairy tales of all time. This was where the story should have ended. Happily ever after forever and ever...

  But that same magic that brought them together would also cruelly rip them apart. Causing them both to forget the other and the daughter they’d created out of true love. Nothing can save them or their love except for one very reluctant hero.

  No one could ever accuse Rumpelstiltskin of being a good man, but the dark magician will do anything—even kill—to set right what’s been made wrong. You see the daughter Gerard and Betty forgot, her name was Shayera, and she was Rumpel’s truest love. The dark prince will stop at nothing to bring her back. Nothing...

  Author’s Note

  For those who don’t already know the Dark Kings series is based on a series of books I wrote as another one of my pseudonyms, Marie Hall. They were called The Bad Five of Kingdom. To fully understand the history of these characters the best thing to do is to go back and read them, if you haven’t already. The first three books, Her Mad Hatter, Gerard’s Beauty, and Red and Her Wolf are free as part of the Kingdom Collection. You can enjoy this story as a standalone but for the best reading experience possible I highly recommend starting at the beginning.

  ~*~

  Prologue

  Creeping up behind her, Rumpel grinned, already expecting her to swing at him. His wild, wonderful, pure-hearted female hated to be startled. Too bad it was his favorite game to play.

  But honestly, how could he resist?

  Shayera was in her chosen place in the castle—their library. Her feet were tucked up underneath her gorgeous arse. The wild halo of flaming-red hair curled haphazardly around her face, practically begging him to tug on the thick locks. Her nose was scrunched. Her ice-blue eyes scanned the pages with an intense rapidity, letting him know how mesmerized she was by the passages she read.

  One long and delicately-shaped, ivory-pale finger traced the words on the page, the movements hypnotic, lulling him. Forgetting about his game for just a moment, he found himself leaning against a hidden cove in the library, just watching her, inhaling the aroma of her deep into his lungs with slow, steady breaths.

  She smelled of roses and the crisp scent of air in the fall—clean, slightly icy, and terribly addictive. His heart filled to bursting with so much love that it felt like a sickness. He was a lovestruck fool, and he’d readily admit it. Shayera wasn’t only his happiness and joy. She was his home, his heart, and his conscious. The parts of him that were any good at all were because of her.

  She’d been faithful to him, teaching him over time that what she’d said, she meant. Shayera was steady and calming, the salve to his weary mind. Over the years, she’d truly taught him the meaning of the word love. He’d given himself entirely over to her care.

  Oh, he was still very much a beast. Those tendencies would always remain. He’d lived with them far too long for them to ever fully dissipate. But he was never a beast with her. For her and their children alone, he was a big pussy cat. Though, he’d skewer anyone else who ever dared call him so to his face. He still had a reputation to uphold.

  He grinned and rubbed idly at his chest.

  Rumpel had just finished putting their children to bed. He’d been forced to read a minimum of six bed time stories—one for each babe. They had many children and a life he could never have imagined himself living. Not that he’d ever expected he’d live to be so old.

  Before he fell in love with his female, Rumpel had been bitter, hateful, and solely driven by his need to heal his firstborn son, damn the cost to anyone or anything. He’d made deals aplenty, squelching the happily ever afters of many of Kingdom’s denizens. He’d done whatever it took to ensure his son’s redemption. He’d hardly cared who he’d harmed in the process.

  And then she’d come along, the daughter of Kingdom’s most famous Lothario. Rumpel had known exactly what kind of woman she’d be—vain, selfish, petty, cold-hearted.

  He couldn’t have been more wrong. Shayera knew him through and through. She knew the demon that lived inside of him, and she called him friend.

  She sighed, eyes filling with tears as a crooked smile passed over her lovely features, tilting his world on its axis all over again, making him feel light-headed and weak-kneed.

  He loved her. With all his dark soul, he worshipped the ground that woman walked on. She could do no wrong. Whether they fought or loved, it didn’t matter. He would hang on tight to her for the rest of his stupidly-long life and thank the gods that a dark bastard like him had been given a gift like her.

  Forgetting all about scaring her, he cleared his throat, which startled her all the same. Flinching so hard that the book fell off her lap to the plush carpet at her feet with a soft thud, she covered her mouth and turned toward him. A flash of surprise was swiftly followed by a growl of irritation.

  “Rumpel! You’ll be the death of me someday, I swear it.” She latched her fingers into the thin cotton of her shirt.

  Moving briskly, desperate to get his hands all over her, he beamed proudly. “I would never do aught to harm a hair upon your pretty head, and well you know it, wench.”

  She smirked, light-blue eyes filling with a soft, tender glow as she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him toward her.

  Shayera was a siren. To touch her skin, any part of it, made a person want her uncontrollably, male or female. The only persons immune to her were children, but only for a time.

  Her powers had made her life a living hell in her tiny hamlet. He knew about the recluse
she’d been forced to become and about the male, Hamish, that had almost raped her at the tender age of nine, the very day she’d come into her powers. Shayera had been a prisoner in her own home.

  But Rumpel hadn’t been the one to save her. No, she’d been the one to save him.

  Staring deep into her clear blue eyes, he allowed himself to tumble and fall headlong, deeper and deeper in love. His fingers banded tightly behind her back. He was almost breathless with fear and panic at the thought of ever losing her.

  “I love you, Carrot. Always have. Always will.” He murmured the words from his soul. Gone was his smile. Gone was his joy. Instead, he allowed her to see a truth he would never show another, not even their children.

  Only for her could he ever be weak. It was the gift she treasured most.

  The smile that had graced her lips only seconds ago slipped, replaced by a tender and penetrating look. Brushing her fingertips over his bristled cheek, she whispered, “And I you, my dark prince.”

  He trembled. Lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheekbones as his form wavered, going from the mask he was forced always to wear around others—that of an amber-eyed, blond-haired Adonis—to his true form, an onyx-skinned male with cloven hooves for feet and two horns upon the crown of his head, poking through his long ebony hair.

  She sighed, wrapping a strand of his hair around her finger. No one could ever gaze upon his true form, not even his children. To do so would doom them. Only a true heart’s mate could look upon him without suffering terrible agony.

  A smile tipped her rosebud lips as she gazed deeply into his ruby-red eyes. Shayera was an odd bird, preferring his more demonic form to the one he presented to the rest of the world. But that was part of what he loved about her and why he’d move all of heaven and earth to keep her safe, content, and his. She truly loved Rumpel for who he was—good, bad, and otherwise.

  He drew her so closely into him that no space existed between them.

  “The children are all abed, my lovely siren.”

  A flicker of heated desire burned through her eyes. “Even after all these many years together, Rumpel, you still love me as you once did? Even after all this time, do I still own the heart of the darkest beast in all the lands?”

  Going absolutely still, he gazed deep into her eyes.

  “Forever would never be enough with you, Carrot. I want more. I want it all. I want every second, every tear, every sigh, every smile, every laugh, every secret look. I even want your heartache, my beloved. Only you could have tamed this beast, and I will be forever loyal...”

  ~*~

  A tear spilled out of the corner of my eye as I stared into the scrying bowl on my lap, remembering that night with such perfect clarity that I experienced every moment again as if for the first time.

  Pausing the frame so that I gazed upon her freckle-smattered face, I tried to reason through the giant hole of despair that had become my heart since the dark curse had been flung only six hours ago. A curse I’d never seen coming.

  I’d been so bloody content, so fooled into believing I was king of it all. I thought nothing and no one could harm my family, and that to do so would invite death by my hand.

  Closing my eyes, I shook violently as the tears turned into wracking sobs of mounting despair. I’d lost them. Only Euralis remained now, my son from my previous life on Demone when once I’d been prince regent.

  But unlike before, his mind was not fractured. The curse that had ripped Shayera and our other children from me had also miraculously healed Euralis.

  My son remembered nothing of the woman he’d once called Mother, who’d loved him unconditionally as though he were her own. Not even my servants knew who Shayera was.

  Only I, in the entire castle, had the memories of before. The first hour without them had been a hell that had nearly killed me. I’d gone insane with madness when they’d all vanished—bellowing to the rafters, traveling through my cloud realm, growing more and more manic with each second that they did not return to me.

  After hours of searching, a terrible realization rocked me. Even my servants who couldn’t remember Shayera had felt the roil of trembling earth beneath their feet. The blast of magic was so powerful it’d forced my form to change without my consent. One moment I’d been smiling at my wife, and the next, she was gone. That magic had been no illusion.

  In just one second, my entire world, my life, had simply vanished.

  Once I’d realized she was no longer in the castle, I’d traveled into Kingdom proper on the back of Genesis—my “silver stallion”—throttling the engine along the way. Shayera had loved to ride on the back of it. I’d hoped in vain that, hearing my bike purring, she might run out to greet me, that she’d stumble out of the woods wearing nothing but a smile and yelling out that it was all just one big misunderstanding. I’d forgive her because I’d forgive her anything, so long as this horror ended.

  But what I’d seen had left me shaken and cold. Family after family had been ripped apart. Some remembered the past world, but many of them did not. A few had even taken to the streets, ripping at their clothes and themselves, wailing and gnashing their teeth just like I had, their looks of misery so close to my own. But most of the rest of Kingdom laughed and talked and greeted one another as though nothing at all had happened. And it was the same wherever I went.

  Even my manservant, Giles, had lost his bride. The moment I saw his smile, that guileless look of happy greeting on his face, I’d finally lost the meager scraps of composure left me. That Giles could look so joyous meant he did not even recall the loss of his own bride, a bride he’d been as deeply and passionately in love with as I’d been with my own.

  I’d flown to the only being in all of Kingdom that had to know where they all were. I hadn’t meant to drop to my knees, sobbing and wailing like a broken half-man, thoughtless with grief. The second I’d seen Danika and Galeta though, hope had withered and died in my breast. I’d known by their looks of despair that even they had no damned idea what had happened.

  After that, I’d grown cold and silent. I was a doer, a fixer. I took care of problems. That was my currency in this world. But I’d never encountered anything like this before. Who had cast this curse? How could it be broken? Whoever it was, they were unbelievably powerful. I was strong. But this... this was something altogether different. This was a power even I could not match.

  Where was my wife?

  I sucked in a strangled breath as a strange moaning sounded all around me. I was staring into that bloody scrying bowl and wishing like hell I could draw her out of there, pull her to me. But I’d exhausted every bit of magic I had left. Wherever Shayera was, I couldn’t reach her.

  That strange moaning continued to grow and build. I snarled, shaking my head and rocking on my arse as I tried desperately to hang on to whatever last shred of hope was left to me.

  She was not dead. Our children were not dead. They were not dead. Not dead...

  And when that moaning, like the keening of a wounded animal, grew louder again, I startled to realize the sound was coming from me. Breathing heavily, I squeezed my eyes shut, told myself to relax, and prayed to all the gods above and below that she lived, that she was somewhere. If I had to go into the Underworld itself to retrieve her, I would.

  This festering wound within me was slowly going to kill me or devolve me back into that monster she’d hated, the ruthless cutthroat who didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything, the soulless, black creature who would kill anything stupid enough to cross its path. Desperation was a horrific thing. It was rage mixed with a healthy dash of terrible, terrible fear. Desperation often led to madness before eventually leading to death. I latched on to the only thing that meant anything to me in this strange new world.

  Euralis. My son. My boy.

  I had to remain strong for him. And for her because I would find her. No matter what it took, I would find them all again.

  I was Rumpelstiltskin. Nothing was impossible for me. Nothi
ng was out of my control. I was master of my domain.

  But this...

  “No,” I growled. My hands balled into fists. No. I would not allow myself to think the worst. I was a master sorcerer. I could fix anything. I would fix this. I only needed a seed, a kernel of possibility, no matter how small. I could make anything bloom.

  For hours now, I’d run manic through Kingdom, following whatever lead I could, no matter how bizarre or outlandish. I’d visited Shayera’s family, none of whom were home. Not unusual, in and of itself. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, really, except for the terrible niggling suspicion that if I dug even a tiny bit deeper, I would not like what I found.

  So maybe it was cowardice that rushed me away from the Carons’ cabin. All I knew was I didn’t want to linger even a second longer than necessary, which was why I currently sat out in the rain in the middle of a bloody-nowhere hamlet, following the most obscure rumor, one that I’d never have given a second’s thought to before.

  But an acquaintance of an acquaintance of an acquaintance had heard tell of a siren being held somewhere nearby against her will by some bloke with unusual eyes. Yeah, not much of a lead, but hell if I hadn’t come anyway. Said bloke was here in this pub, mere feet away from me.

  But there was a madness raging in my bones, an animal growing more and more sentient, demanding blood, demanding hearts be taken, demanding violence of the gravest sort. Every muscle in my body shook as I forced myself to control my breathing.

  I would not give into the rage again. I would not devolve. When I’d left my old world, I’d left that creature behind. After meeting Shayera, I’d remade myself completely. Now, I was calculating but no longer ruthless because she had healed me. She had shaped me into a better version of myself.

  I would wait until the strange-eyed man came out of the pub of his own volition. There was only one way in and out of the tavern. I knew if I stepped foot inside there and saw him, I’d snap. So I forced myself to sit here and be calm. Once he came out, then I would follow him, and I would find her. That siren must be her. It had to be.