Dead Moons Rising: First in the Honest Scrolls series

it.”
“You know—” he pushed off the desk and came to stand deliberately in front of her, his eyes only a couple inches above hers “—if you wanted fire, all you had to do was ask.”
His hands ran the length of her wrists up her arms to her throat, and the amusement she’d filled herself with only moments before evacuated from her core. She started to step back, but her neck was suddenly seized in his hands, and he crudely pressed his lips to hers.
She pushed on his chest, breaking her lips free, and uttered a quick, “Rhaif, no—”, but to no avail. He grasped her curly hair between his fingers and yanked her roots down. Before she could move, he whipped her around between himself and the desk, and she wriggled against his grip.
“Rhaif—Rhaif, stop!”
She managed to shove him hard, and he tripped backwards over the rug under his feet, almost falling into the couch. Her heart was pounding in her chest. He’d bit her lip harshly, and she could feel the faint trickle of blood threatening to fall down her chin. His eyes were wild and narrow as he stared at her, obviously bewildered that she’d actually hit him.
She blinked and made herself move. “The Council will be here soon,” she managed as she pushed off the desk. “I must be getting ready.”

CHAPTER TWO
SHE WAS LATE.
Later than she’d anticipated.
But the sun basking on her skin had been exactly what she needed that morning after her peace being taken from her so abruptly the day before.
A moment to be herself. A moment of peace before the horror of the Council she knew she would have to endure that night. A break from the daily quells of being Queen of Promise.
She’d allowed the Belwark guard, Corbin, to accompany her instead of Lex on that morning. She’d allowed him the indulgence of continued pleasure from the day before. The water had glistened on his dark skin as he took her roughly against the cliff walls, and then again when he’d splayed her legs open on the sand like a snack. She could feel the marks on her shoulder blades and on her butt from the rock defacing her skin.
“Queen Aydra!” came a woman’s voice as she ran down the hall. “My Queen—you’re late,” the Dreamer woman, Willow, was saying.
Aydra shoved her bracelet off her arm and began stripping in the hall as she walked with little care to who might be coming down it. “I am aware, Willow.”
“Your brother sent for you—”
Aydra tossed her tunic over her head and into the Dreamer’s outstretched arms. One of the Belwarks walked by then, to which she gave him a small smile as he looked her figure over. “I’m aware,” she repeated, winking at the Belwark and continuing to walk down the hall. “Please inform my brother I’ll be but a few minutes late. He can start without me.” She pulled her linen pants off, nearly tripping on the legs, and she tossed them in Willow’s arms. “Is my dress ready?” she asked.
“I left it on your bed,” Willow answered.
Aydra pulled the clip out of her hair as they ascended the last set of stairs, and she gave her messy hair a fluff, allowing it to wave in the air behind her. She wasn’t surprised when she saw the young prince, Dorian, coming down from his own bedroom
“Whoa— No one told me we were streaking before banquet,” he said as she passed him, his widened round blue eyes searing through her. “Nice suit, sister,” the dark haired teen said with a wink at Aydra.
Aydra attempted and failed at a look of disgust towards him, and ended up biting back a knowing smile on her lips. “Grow up, Dorian,” she said as she smacked the back of his head. “You’re disgusting.”
“Fearless and annoying would better suit me, I think,” he grinned.
“The favored family traits,” she called back to him.
She turned her attention back to Willow as they reached the top of the steps. “Please go to the Chamber and let my brother know of what I asked. I will be there momentarily.”
Willow stopped and gave her a nod outside her bedroom door. “Yes, my Queen.”
Her door slammed behind her when she entered. Her feet flapped on the floor as she crossed the grand stone room to her four-poster bed. The black linens draped around the top and wound around the wide wooden posts. The dress laying on her bed made her lips purse.
Leave it to her brother to pick out the dress she hated the most for her to wear.
Powder blue. Frilly. Conservative.
Aydra flung it out of her window and went to her wardrobe.
Color. Color. Color.
No.
She was feeling confident that day. Her dark golden freckles were radiating on her skin. She could see them popping off her cheeks when she looked in the mirror. The pure steel color of her upwards turned wide eyes reminded her of the rocks the castle was made from.
Black.
The long black lace dress stared at her from the back of the wardrobe. The dress that pissed her brother off the most, and the one that she felt most confident in.
The black raven flew past her window.
She pulled the form-fitting black lace up over her muscular thighs and the curvature of her hips. It fit around her waist and she pushed her arms through before bringing it up and over her breasts. Sections of the black rose lace pattern draped over her breasts and up to her collarbone, but the sleeves were off the shoulder and hugged her limbs. The beige underlay of the dress appeared nude on her pale skin. The bottom flared out just below her knees, and the train behind it extended a few feet. She reached for her heels under the bed and kicked the fabric out to put her feet in them. The tulle skirt she belted around her waist only wrapped around the back of her waist like a cape. She gave