King of Death and Desire: Bone King Saga, #1

By M.L. Devereaux

Love conquers all, they say, but can it break a centuries-old curse?

 

For as long as she can remember, Kat has relied on her wits to survive. Yet, everything changes when she's auctioned off to the Bone King, an undead creature feared by all. One misstep, and she could end up as one of his eternal servants, the Damned.

 

To stay alive, Kat must tread carefully, and stay on the Bone King's good side. What she never expected was to find herself drawn to this nightmarish creature.

 

As their worlds collide in a maelstrom of passion and peril, Kat and the Bone King must navigate the treacherous waters of love, loss, and lust. Will she be the one to unlock the secrets of his heart, or is their love destined to be their downfall?

 

Dive into this dark and mesmerizing paranormal romance novel, where the lines between good and evil blur, and the power of love faces its ultimate test. If you enjoyed Beauty and the Beast, A Court of Thorns and Roses, or the Kingdom of the Wicked, prepare to be enchanted by a tale that will leave you yearning for more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.L. Devereaux
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223110781

Book preview

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King of Death and Desire

Bone King Saga - Book 1

M.L. Devereaux

Copyright © 2023 by M.L. Devereaux

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact [e-mail].

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover and illustrations by M.L. Devereaux

First edition, 2023

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Contents

1.Sold To The Dead

2.A Brush With Death

3.Punishing The Dead

4.Naming The Dead

5.Death's Kiss

6.Dining With Death

7.A Promise Of Death

8.A Deadly Discovery

9.Child Of Death

10.Books Of The Dead

11.A Dance With Death

12.Deadly Desire

13.A Deadly Departure

14.Trapped By Death

15.On Death's Door

16.A Feast For The Dead

17.Enthralled By Death

18.Beyond Death

Acknowledgements

Books By M.L. Devereaux

Download a free short story

"She warned him not to be deceived by appearances,

for beauty is found within." ¹

1. From: Beauty & the Beast, Disney

Sold To The Dead

For the past twenty-five years, Kat had not led an easy life, but when the double oak doors of the market hall swung open and she saw the skeletal figure in the entranceway, she knew her last hour might strike soon.

The cadaverous figure of the Bone King cast a long shadow on the saw dusted floor. He wore black trousers and a black tunic with gold buckles, and his hands were wrapped in black leather gloves. A golden crown stood out above the few gray strands of hair that adorned his otherwise bald skull. Thin lips and sunken eyes—one black as night and one milky white that had no discernible pupil—, and a gaping hole where with any living being you would find the nose, perfected the image of the animated corpse he really was.

Just a few steps behind him hovered two of his servants, better known as the Damned. Wrapped in dark cloaks, and with their faces hidden deep in their wide hoods, she could only make out two glowing red slits where their eyes were supposed to be.

The buzz in the market hall died down. Everyone retreated as the Bone King strode into the hall with his servants. Kat’s heart kept pace with his stride.

Step-boom.

Step-boom.

Step-boom.

All around her, everyone sank to their knees. She followed suit and wished the chains at her ankles and wrists wouldn’t rattle and clank so loudly. The chill of the floor underneath her bare legs didn’t even register. Like the others, she bowed her head as deep as she could muster. The footsteps came their way. Someone behind her muttered a prayer. She cursed him to the nine hells and back. Prayers would only attract unwanted attention.

Step-boom.

Step-boom.

Step-boom.

Like a caged canary that smells gas in a coal mine, her heart fluttered, trying to force its way out of her chest straight through her rib cage. Round tips of two black leather shoes appeared. Kat held her breath and tried to not make a sound. At least the man behind her had stopped praying. The sour smell that now wafted up her nostrils betrayed he had instead lost control of his bladder.

Slowly, way too slowly, the black shoes appeared in full. She stared straight ahead until her eyes watered. And even then, she did not dare blink. She sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, as if from another world, she heard footsteps moving away again. Still, she did not move a muscle. Did not breathe. Did not blink.

The cry that escaped her as two leather-clad fingers grabbed her under the chin came as a greater surprise than the Bone King’s firm grip. Instinctively, she pulled back, but the bony fingers tightened their grip. She was trapped, unable to run or hide. His skeletal face filled her field of vision, and from this close, she saw he had two differently colored eyes. One dark as obsidian, and one white alabaster. It cost her all the effort in the world to look him straight in the eyes. She could discern fine lines in the corners of his eyes, as well as how here and there his skull was visible through the parchment-thin skin.

This one, the Bone King said. Kat gagged as his stale breath wafted in her face.

As one, the entire market hall exhaled. The threat was over. The king had made his choice. They were safe… Or they would be for as long as Kat lived. The villagers would make bets soon. She had heard the guards talk about it last night. Her predecessors had never been granted more than a few weeks. And from what she had understood, even that was a pretty generous time-frame. It was for that reason that new candidates would be sought as soon as this Election Day was over, even though no one knew exactly what or whom the king was looking for. Sometimes he would choose an old man, other times a middle-aged woman, and once in a while, a child.

This time, his lifeless eyes had fallen on Kat.

The slave traders could not care less. All they had to do was make sure there was a large enough variety to pick from. And whomever the king did not elect would be sold to the nobility later. Profit assured.

Kat would not have to worry about being bought by some plumped up noble. One of the Damned had already put her in chains, while another handed the amount due over to the slave trader that had captured her. His eyes shone as brightly as the gold in the pouch he was given. The Bone King could not be accused of stinginess.

When the Damned pulled at her chains, Kat rose with some difficulty, her joints protesting every movement. The chill of the damp stones, both here and in the slave cells, had crept into her bones. Faces awash with relief watched her as she was led out of the market hall.

Not ten feet from the door stood a carriage in a black, so dark it seemed to suck up the light of its surroundings. Two enormous, equally black horses were harnessed in front of it. They neighed and scraped their hooves on the sandy street, eager to return to their stables. Behind the carriage was another cart. This one was much smaller and had no windows, apart from a minuscule rectangular hole with thick bars at the back. It was her transport. The Damned holding her chains pushed her inside and locked the door.

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The caravan followed a narrow path, which often proved to be little more than a muddy cart track, up the mountain, zigzagging among dark pine trees. Dusk had fallen, and in the distance, through the thick bars, Kat spotted the faint light of flickering candles behind drawn curtains. No one wanted to bear witness to her exodus.

Kat continued to stare at the village below until the houses shrank to miniatures, and the dark green conifers became a thing of the past. The present comprised menacing branches that stretched out their claws at the doomed souls who dared cross their path. Her captors seemed oblivious to the fact that the trees led evil lives of their own, but Kat cringed each time a thick branch announced its presence with a heavy thump on the cart’s roof. The black carriage of the Bone King did not hesitate and steadily clambered up the slope. When they gave a wide berth to climb a particularly steep part of the hill, Kat spotted a dark castle on top of the mountain. It lurked like a hungry demon with fiery, burning eyes. As the caravan rode through the gates and its metal mouth clanged shut behind them, Kat jumped.

Then the cart stopped, and she heard the bolt shift. A Damned floated in and pulled her out by her shackles. The courtyard was huge, bigger even than the village’s marketplace. The walls, pitch black, rose at least a hundred feet up into the sky. Candles burned behind some windows, and she could see the red gleam of Damned’s eyes almost everywhere. The castle teemed with them!

Kat saw the Bone King’s crown disappear as he entered the castle via a stone staircase. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him. With a tug on her chain, her guard pulled her after him, leading her in another direction, to a small door hidden behind a low wall. The servant’s entrance, she guessed.

Once inside, the guard took her through a maze of corridors and rooms. They passed the kitchen, a warehouse for flour and grain, a cool room for both fresh and pickled vegetables and cured meats, a small sitting room where no one sat, and a staircase leading to the upper floors. Her guard, however, didn’t go up, but pulled her deeper into the castle’s belly, to a small room that held a tiny bed with a thin straw mattress, a night bucket, and a table with a washbasin and a plate with a piece of bread on it. A fire crackled in the small hearth, and on the bed lay a tunic and trousers made of raw wool and a plaited rope.

The Damned pointed at the clothes and then at Kat. He was asking her to change, she guessed. She raised her chained wrists.

Untie me.

The Damned shook his head.

I can’t change clothes with my arms tied.

Her guard seemed taken aback for a moment. He looked from the tunic to her and back again, unsure of what to do. Finally, he took a key from somewhere inside his cloak and untied her chains. When she didn’t immediately move to change her clothes, he gestured frantically at the shirt. Kat raised an eyebrow.

Turn around.

The Damned’s red eyes flared for a moment, but then he did as she asked. A sigh sounded, though it might have been the wind. Quickly Kat took off the thin linen rags she was wearing and put on the woolen clothes. The sleeves of the tunic were far too long, and she had to roll up the trouser legs three times before her feet showed. She took the rope and tied it around her waist. Then she rolled up her sleeves as best she could.

Don’t you have anything smaller? she asked.

The Damned turned. He cocked his head as if to consider her question, then shook his head. She shrugged.

Too bad.

Her belly growled like a starving dragon. The Damned gestured to the bread.

Can I have that? she asked, but before her guard could answer, she had already bitten off a large piece and was chewing the dry chunk of bread with relish. She hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks. Even if the bread had been moldy and green, she would have eaten it just as happily. When she was done, she wiped the crumbs from her mouth. The Damned floated closer, holding out the chain again, but she backed away.

No. Her guard hesitated. I don’t want to be chained up again. The Damned’s head swiveled to the door. I won’t run, she promised, and meant it. Where could she go? Her guard shook his head. I swear, she said. He shook his head again. Listen, she said, pointing to the window through which the gigantic battlement was visible. I’m way too weak to crawl over those walls, let alone smash a door or fight you. I. Will. Not. Run, she repeated, emphasizing every word of the last sentence. The Damned looked at the chain in his hands one more time, then let it fall beside him. He turned and floated out of the room. Kat followed him.

Is that my room? she asked. He nodded. What’s your name? Can you talk?

Now that her tummy was full, and she was out of the cold, and—more importantly—still alive, her curiosity surfaced. But the Damned shook his head.

Hm… this is going to be a rather one-sided conversation.

She followed the Damned as he led her back along the stairs and by the pantry, only this time he took another turn, floating into a corridor that ended in a pair of double doors that were decorated with bas-relief. They were closed and in the semi-darkness of the corridor they looked almost black. The Damned gestured to them.

In here? she asked. He nodded and floated back a bit. Just me? The Damned remained on the same spot and waved towards the doors. Was it her imagination or was her guard afraid of whatever was behind these doors?

Only one way to find out, she thought, and she knocked on the door.

As a voice stated, Enter, the Damned disappeared with a poof.

A Brush With Death

The room behind the double doors was large. It would hold her old house about ten times! The ceiling was so high, she could barely make it out in the twilight. To her left, damask curtains were drawn over sky-high windows, blocking out all light from outside. And to her right, a bright fire burned in a hearth about twice her height. The flames reflected in the Bone King’s golden crown as he sat in a chair by the fire, with one leg crossed over the other, and his back as straight as a broomstick. He stared into the flames, lost in thought. 

She swallowed and approached him. When he heard her, he looked up, the flames dancing in his one black eye. She stopped and curtsied. Well, she made a movement that was supposed to resemble a curtsy, seeing as she had no inkling of how to do one. She had visited other courts in the past, where she had seen noblewomen do it, so she hoped she was close enough to the real thing. The Bone King raised an eyebrow. She must have done something wrong. Quickly, she stood up again, put her hands behind her back, bowed her head, and waited.

When she heard chair legs scrape on the floor, she glanced up.

Are you afraid of me? the skeletal figure asked in a raspy voice.

Kat nodded. There was no point in lying. This man… this living corpse… frightened her. No matter how certain she had been earlier about not dying today, any trace of that certainty had fled the moment she stepped into this room. 

Good. You should be.

Unsure of how to respond to that, Kat remained silent. 

The king planted his hands, still clad in those black leather gloves, on the arms of his chair and pushed himself up. As he walked over to her, it took Kat every drop of self-control she possessed not to flinch. She mustered up all of her courage to face his dark gaze, to look into those two differently colored eyes. Even though the thing before her moved and spoke like any other living being, there was nothing alive in his glare. There was only coldness. Ice. Death.

You will be my personal servant from now on, the undead king rasped. I do not tolerate mistakes. Do it right, and your life will be long and prosperous. But make one mistake… He left the threat unspoken. 

Kat had not been dealt much wealth in life, but she was not devoid of intelligence. She had a pretty good idea of what would happen to her if she made a mistake. The proof was all around her. All the other slaves he bought, and who were never seen again. The large number of Damned in the castle. The submission they still showed. It didn’t take a genius to know what happened if you failed the king. Having no intention of making this castle her permanent afterlife, Kat vowed she would work like she had never worked before.

Bring me my supper, the Bone King said, returning to his seat. 

Unaware of the proper etiquette, Kat curtsied again and then hurried back to the doors. They swung open before she reached them. A Damned—was it the same one that had brought her here? Why did they have to look so alike!—was waiting for her in the hallway. He took her to the kitchen where a tray of food already waited. It held a plate filled with roasted meat and boiled vegetables, a bowl of gravy, and a loaf of bread. 

Kat’s stomach rumbled, despite the piece of bread she had just eaten. Fortunately, she had grown accustomed to the feeling of hunger over the years and could ignore the food, even though it barraged her nose with delicious smells of fried fat and freshly baked bread. Her mouth watered. She could almost taste the meat on her tongue. Her stomach twitched painfully, hoping it would get to taste a piece of that meal. But all it got to taste was air. 

You are used to that, she told herself silently. You can do this. You are not hungry. 

Like a mantra, she kept repeating those last four words to herself while the Damned escorted her back to the bas-relief doors. Again, he floated back as they reached them, letting Kat walk into the room by herself.

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As she set the tray on the table and put the plate in front of the king, her stomach rumbled again. She bowed her head and took a quick step back. She felt the weight of the king’s dark gaze upon her. He did not speak, nor did he move to eat his food. For a moment, she feared she had made a mistake after all. Perhaps she should have left after putting down the tray? Or had her own stomach signed her death warrant?

Just as she was about to look up to see if she could read her death in his eyes, the king held out the full plate in front of her. She stared at it, unsure of what to do. Was this a test? Would she fail if she ate the food?

Eat, the Bone King said in a raucous voice.

This is your food. I can’t accept this.

You address a king with ‘your Majesty’. And as king, I order you to eat.

Yes, your Majesty, forgive me, your Majesty, she said quickly and, still without looking up, she took the loaf of bread and tore off a small piece. She chewed on it for as long as she could.

Is that all? 

Kat nodded with her mouth full. The black eye looked at her while its milky white twin seemed to stare into thin air. It gave her the creeps. The king shrugged and turned, the plate still clutched between his bony fingers. So be it. It’s good to know you are not a big eater. I will instruct Jacob to let the cook know he won’t have to foresee much more food.

Kat merely inclined her head. He hadn’t asked a question, so she decided that silence was the better strategy.

You will bring me my food every morning at sunup and every evening at sundown. Not a minute later.

Kat remained silent, her hands clasped behind her back.

And you will dine with me. Here, in the throne room.

She arched an eyebrow. That was unusual. Kings weren’t known to make a habit of having their slaves