Flame Taker (The Clash and the Heat Book 2)

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

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  GUILLAME

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  GUILLAME

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  GUILLAME

  GUILLAME

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  GUILLAME

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  GUILLAME

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Flame Taker

  The Clash and the Heat, Book Two

  Val Saintcrowe

  FLAME TAKER

  © copyright 2020 by Val Saintcrowe

  http://vjchambers.com

  Punk Rawk Books

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  GUILLAME

  Guillame Dubois shook the musqueteers off as they let go of his arms. He looked over his shoulder at his horse, which he’d ridden hard from the castle to catch up to Prince Remy Toussaint. He’d hoped to luck out, to catch up while the king’s entourage was stopped for the night at an inn, but they were still on the road now, two hours after sundown.

  Guillame had caught up to the carriage, and everything had come to a halt. The king had been secured, the musqueteers had fired shots at him until he dismounted, and then they’d grabbed him and dragged him away from his horse.

  It was only now, when Remy had recognized them, that the king had told them to let go of Guillame.

  Now, the two men surveyed each other.

  He’s about my height, Guillame thought. The king was broader than he was. He had wider, more muscled shoulders than Guillame did, and Guillame had also watched the king stab his own brother through the eye with a sword, so Guillame supposed he should have felt intimidated by the king.

  Guillame didn’t.

  He wasn’t sure what he felt when looked at Remy Toussaint. Some strange mixture of desire and jealousy, because Remy was the one who was actually married to Fleur, and that didn’t seem right to Guillame, not when he was devoted to her.

  “What are you doing here, Dubois?” Remy’s voice was deep. Sometimes, it had a scratchy edge to it, as if he’d been scoured at the edges. That was all the emotion the king tended to let out. Deep down, though, Guillame suspected that he was raw and pink and hurt, and that made the king all the more appealing. Sometimes Guillame spent entire conversations simply staring at the king’s lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

  At that moment, he found himself doing it again, even though he didn’t have the luxury of stupid fantasies like that, even though he knew he shouldn’t allow himself to think anything like that at all.

  After all, Fleur was in danger.

  It was her own fault, but then, that was typical. Sometimes, he wanted to strangle that woman, but he had to admit her impulsivity and her fiery nature were two of the things that made him want her so badly. She acted as if it was impossible that she would fail. She was so self-assured and strong and beautiful…

  He loved Fleur. Had loved her almost since the moment he saw her. If not the exact moment, then a bit later, when she kept her composure after he murdered the men who were attempting to kill her, when she ruthlessly pushed down her terror to stand strong and look him in the eye. Yes, from that moment, he’d been wrecked.

  He knew he couldn’t have her.

  She was a queen.

  He was nothing. A pirate’s brat who’d made his way into the musqueteers. He could never have her. He knew it, but some part of him didn’t believe it. That was why he was always doing whatever she wanted, ready and willing to carry out her bidding.

  Right now, he needed to save her, but he couldn’t do it on his own.

  “It’s Camte Chastain,” said Guillame. “Fleur suspected he was working on a plan with Coralie.” Coralie was the king’s former sister-in-law. The king had been having an affair with her, but only because he was trying to hurt his late brother. When Coralie found out she’d been used, she was devastated. She’d been in love with Remy.

  Guillame figured it would be easy to be in love with Remy.

  He wasn’t, though, thank the blazes. He thought of Remy as an attractive diversion, fun to think about, but nothing more. He’d do away with Remy in a minute if he had to, especially since Remy was in the way of his having Fleur.

  Yeah, he’d kill Remy Toussaint.

  Still. Those lips. It would be a waste.

  “What kind of plan?” said Remy.

  “Well, she and I decided we might try upping the time line on bribing him?” said Guillame.

  “What happened?” said Remy.

  “You know Fleur. She’s not real great with, uh, bribery. She ended up tossing him in the dungeons.”

  “All right,” said Remy, looking him over. “So, why are you here?”

  “Well, Chastain was planning something,” said Guillame. “He had his army invade, break him out of the dungeons, and they came for me, because they’re accusing me of treason. With the queen, you know. So, I ran.”

  Remy’s face twitched. It was a half a second, but Guillame saw the emotion there, how deep it went. Remy had it more badly for Fleur than Guillame might have imagined. Until days ago, Guillame thought Fleur wanted him that badly as well. But she’d surprised him. She was willing to sacrifice Remy for power, and so now Guillame had another plan. It started here, and it wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d always known that this man was going to bed Fleur. He’d always known it, and it meant nothing. Nothing.

  “I ran to get you,” said Guillame, forcing himself to smile, when he really wanted to grind his teeth at the thought of Remy and Fleur together. “Because they’re going to try to get to her, too. She’s got her queensguard. I imagine she’ll hold out a while, but you’ll need to go back. Chastain is making a run for your throne.”

  Remy took this news with a blink. He turned to one of the musqueteers who’d been holding onto Guillame’s arm. “Go, take a horse. Ride to Luvinne, tell them I’m mobilizing their army, that I have need of them. They must meet us at the castle as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said the musqueteer, and went for the horses.

  Remy turned back to Guillame. “I’m surprised you came to me, instead of spiriting her off somewhere. You must realize that if there’s an accusation of treason, that isn’t going away. For blaze’s sake, tell me no one saw you together.”

  Guillame cringed. “Well, uh—”

  “Flames take us,” said Remy, but he sounded as though he was discussing the weather. “She’s impulsive, yes, but you Dubois, I’d think that you would exercise some kind of caution in the face of everything.”

  “She’s hard to put off. You know how she is.” Guillame couldn’t resist saying it, even though he knew that his physical experiences with Fleur encompassed exactly two incidences, and that there had been nothing more than kissing. Blazes, he hadn’t even touched her through her clothes. And n
ow, he was going to serve her up to Remy on a platter.

  Remy’s jaw tightened. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. As you well know, I seem to be the interloper in your love affair, even though she is my wife. Maybe I should have her put to death for treason, after all. It’s not as if it isn’t true.”

  “You need her power. The two of you together, the things you could do… You don’t want her dead,” said Guillame. “And I realize I’m a liability to her. I need to be out of her life. She’s in danger, and it’s because of me. I won’t do that to her anymore. You tell her that whatever she wants, I hope she gets it, but I won’t be back.”

  “Truly?” Remy cocked his head to one side, curious. “I wasn’t expecting that, I grant you. But what do I do? I can’t ignore the accusation.”

  “Yes, I’ve thought of this,” said Guillame. But now he hesitated, because he didn’t want to say it out loud. He forced himself to push on. “What if she was pregnant?”

  “What?” Remy’s voice was what passed for sharp for him. His nostrils flared. “If you’re trying to confess to me that you’ve impregnated my wife, Dubois, I assure you that—”

  “No, no, no.” Guillame shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He raised both of his hands, palms up, as if in surrender. “Pardon me, allow me to explain. You go back, take the castle back from Chastain, have him executed and what have you, and then when there’s an uproar about the accusation of treason, you say that the queen is with child, and no one wants to execute a pregnant woman.”

  “But she’s not with child.”

  “Well, you’ll…” He choked on the words. “Have to make her that way, obviously. I assume you can handle that.” He glared at Remy’s chest, unable to meet the other man’s eyes.

  Remy cleared his throat. “That’s your plan?”

  “Yes.” He cast his gaze down to his shoes.

  “It might work.”

  “It will work,” said Guillame. And it would serve Fleur, too, even though she’d likely resist it at first. But with the king’s babe in her belly, she would become ten times as powerful as she was now, and her hold on the Dumonte throne was all but secured. It was what she wanted, and Guillame would always do whatever he could to get her what she wanted.

  Even maneuver her into bed with another man, apparently.

  Guillame had a sour taste at the back of his throat.

  Remy coughed.

  Guillame looked up, meeting the king’s gaze.

  “Thank you, Dubois,” said Remy. “I know this can’t have been easy for you.”

  “It’s what’s best for her,” said Guillame.

  Remy offered him his hand.

  Guillame gripped it.

  And perversely, as they shook, Guillame thought about how large and thick Remy’s fingers were and he cast a furtive glance at the other man’s lips again.

  Blazes.

  What was wrong with him?

  CHAPTER ONE

  I planted my hands in the middle of Remy’s chest and pushed as hard as I could.

  He didn’t move at first, but then he noticed that I wasn’t kissing him back any more, and he took a step back. He eyed me. “Is something wrong?”

  I laughed. Everything was wrong. I was being manipulated into allowing him to bed me, and I wasn’t ready for that, and I was out of control, and I was going to have to bear his child, and I wasn’t ready for that either.

  And yet, the way that everything was arrayed against me, I had no choice.

  There was no escaping the Dumonte kingdom now that Guillame had abandoned me. And it had already been announced to the gathered court that I was pregnant with the heir to the throne. So, I had to allow Remy to… to sire it on me.

  It was odd, because months ago, I’d been waiting for him on our wedding night, and then I’d been ready to do the deed, knowing that I would be killing him immediately afterwards. I had loathed him then.

  Now, my feelings towards him were much more complicated, and I didn’t know if I could do this.

  I felt out of control.

  Yes, that was the problem.

  Taking several deep breaths, I shook out my arms and then moved away from the door to the king’s chambers. I walked past him.

  “Fleur?” he said. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m not all right,” I said. “I’m trying to come to terms with all of this.” I walked into his sitting room and then through the far door into his bedchamber. I surveyed the bed. I took a deep breath. I turned around. “All right.”

  He was in the doorway. “All right?”

  “The kissing, there doesn’t have to be all of that,” I said.

  He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want to kiss me?”

  “I…” I sucked in a breath. “It could be dangerous. If we get out of control, carried away with passion, we might release the living flame.” Sometimes, when Remy and I touched, our magic fed each other and we created raging infernos of magical fire.

  “Well, then take the magic,” he said. “Douse it out.” He held out his hands to me. I could do that. I had the power to put out the flames. My power canceled out his own. We were connected by our abilities.

  I shook my head. “No, I think it would be easier if we simply went about it in a transactional manner.”

  “Transactional?” he repeated, blinking at me.

  “Yes.”

  “This is because I said that stupid thing about trying to fall in love with you.” His voice was dull. “I didn’t mean it, and I take it back.”

  I gathered up my skirts, pulling them up to bare my thighs and then to bare the juncture between my thighs.

  He made a strangled noise from across the room.

  I ignored him.

  I climbed onto the bed, skirts bunched up around my waist, and lay down. I kept my thighs pressed together. I could feel the air on my body there. I knew he could see me, but he couldn’t see all of me, and… well, now I was in control of the situation. “All right, I’m ready.”

  He didn’t say anything. He only breathed noisy breaths. He stood in the doorway.

  “What are you waiting for?” My voice didn’t sound strong. “Just come over here, remove your trousers, and… do it.”

  A long pause, and then he moved across the room and sat down on the bed next to me. He rested his hand on my bare thigh.

  I gasped.

  “This can be slow,” he murmured. “Kissing, then we remove our clothes, then—”

  “No kissing,” I said. “And we don’t have to take off all our clothes.”

  His hand on my face, turning me to look at him. “He left you, you know. Dubois? He’s gone, and you’re here with me, and we’re not going to conceive an heir this first time. We’re going to do this again and again, and you’re insisting on trying to make it unpleasant.”

  I felt like crying. Instead, I fixed him with a stare of hatred. “You come to me and demand I let you do this, so do it. I’m letting you do it.” I reached down and fumbled with the laces on his trousers.

  He grunted, but he didn’t stop me.

  And then I felt myself flushing. I was embarrassed, because I could feel him straining against his clothes, and I’d never touched a man there before. I’d never seen man naked like this, not in real life, up close and personal. I’d seen statues and art work, but this was different, and I didn’t know how to do this.

  I wanted to wrench my hand away.

  But I didn’t want to look weak and frightened.

  Besides, he thought I’d been with Guillame. He thought I was experienced and world-wise. So, I yanked the lacings open and thrust my hand into his trousers and touched him.

  He hissed.

  I only traced him with my forefinger. He was hard, yes, very stiff, but I was surprised at how velvety the skin felt under my fingertips. I looked up at his face. His eyes were closed.

  I wrapped my hand around him, squeezing.

  He grunted.

  Maybe I hurt him? I didn’t know. I didn’t care.
I pulled on him, and he let me guide him that way. In a moment, he was kneeling between my thighs.

  I bit down on my lip. My heart was pounding.

  “Fleur…” His voice was gentle. “Could we slow down?”

  “No,” I said, and I yanked on him again, putting his body against my opening, right there. I shut my eyes.

  “Blazes,” he muttered. Suddenly, he pushed into me, his body invading mine, and he kissed me again, even though I’d told him not to kiss me, and he was huge—so much bigger than he’d felt when I had my hand around him. It hurt. I was stretched and our skin stuck together, and I cringed and whimpered against his lips.

  He thrust in me. Once. Twice. Three times. Each thrust was agony.

  I whimpered again.

  He stopped moving. “Am I hurting you?

  My eyes were still closed, I realized. I opened them. “I should maybe tell you something,” I said in a very tiny voice.

  He was looking at us, looking at the place where our bodies were joined, where he was inside me, and his brow furrowed. “Fleur, you’re…”

  “I’ve never done this before,” I whispered.

  “Bleeding,” he said in a wondering voice.

  CHAPTER TWO

  He pulled out of my body, and his member was already softening, and I gazed at it, thinking it looked sort of funny and shriveled, and…

  He tucked it away, back into his trousers. He worked on tightening the laces and tying them off. “You’re a virgin.”

  I sat up. I was bleeding on his bed. I pulled my skirts down to cover myself. I wondered if I should pull them under me, if I should bleed on my skirts or—

  “Were a virgin,” he amended. “I am the first man you’ve…” He rubbed his forehead. “Blazes.”

  I picked at my fingernails. My face was hot. I didn’t think I’d ever been quite so embarrassed in my life.

  “You could have told me this. If I’d known, then all of this business about treason with you and Dubois, it would have been… actually, can you be sure to bleed on the coverlet?”

  I looked up at him, stunned. “What?”