CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I am a corpse again, lain out on the rough slab, rolling through the maze of damp tunnels. The hum in my mind expands beyond thought and understanding. Torches flicker. My eyes are open but I cannot see. Cannot move.
The weight of impotence crushes my chest, restricts air from entering my lungs.
My journey stops and sensations bombard from all around the large hall: the rich smell of roasted meat, the pungency of ale, the brilliance of light refracting off a dazzling chandelier above, the cacophony of male voices. . . .
Deep-throated laughter fills my ears as the stench of male lust fills my sinuses. I feel the touch of eyes upon me, slithering over my skin like cold-blooded serpents. I push against the weight, but my limbs are dead, my voice unheard. I pray to my gods. I pray to my brother.
No one comes. No one.
My eyes flip open and the nightmare ends. Staring at the chiseled stone ceiling above the bed in my suite, my breath saws in and out of my lungs. I listen. Did I wake before screaming? Did I manage to exit my night terrors before I woke Bruin and the rest of the Dens with my cries?
Yes. Thank the gods, I had managed on my own. No need for Samuel to race in looking all protective and worried and annoyingly handsome. No. He need not return under the guise of it being for my own good. I had no want of a caregiver bound by duty. I wanted a male who wished to stand by my side. If he was not that male, best we ended our arrangement before either of us became too involved.
I rubbed my fingers over my lips. The moment of becoming too involved had long passed—at least for me. I closed my eyes and relived the passion of Samuel’s kiss when he came to me in his waking moments. He had not kissed me like a guardian. His lips had consumed me, his hips pressing forward, wanton. He had kissed me as a male would kiss a female. Passionate and hungry. And then he had woken and declared the entire moment a mistake.
I slapped at the coverlet and exhaled.
Why now would my Elven logic fail me? It was senseless to pine for a male who, by his own admission, held no interest in me. The humiliation of rejection washed over me anew.
I wondered if my fruitless fantasies could be some strange side-effect of the queer tingle of my skin. Since the night I moved into the Dens weeks ago, the sensation had increased incrementally each night. At first, it had been nothing but a tickle, like a tiny bug crawling across my flesh. It had grown until my skin hummed like my hormones had awakened, resonating at a vibration all their own.
No one spoke of the mysterious kinetic energy in the air and I wondered if the others sensed it. My theory: Were Magic. At night, when in their base forms for sleep, the magical essence of Bruin’s bear, Cowboy’s wolf, Bree’s coyote, the cubs, and the dozen security and support Weres living within the mountain filled the space with a sense of restrained wildness.
And as the full moon of the summer solstice grew ever nearer, the frenetic energy built.
Anticipating.
Aust said, with the coming of the solstice, the animals of the Weres prowled much closer to the surface. I wondered what build-up of power and aggression would mean to the Weres living in Haven. I wondered if their restlessness could influence my own sensations.
After ages of twisting in the sheets and growing more frustrated with my life, I liberated my legs and threw back the blankets. The t-shirt Samuel had given me to wear as a night shirt lay flung over the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed. After pulling it over my head, I tugged my braid free and headed to the kitchen for some hot cocoa.
When I opened the door, I startled and jumped back.
“Hey, Highborne,” Kobi said, his fist raised as if he were about to knock.
“Sweet Shalana, Kobi,” I said, my hand over my chest. “What are you doing outside my door at this hour?”
He swaggered forward, shirtless, his nipple baring a nickel ring similar to the ones pierced his brow and lip. Reaching up, he gave my braid a gentle tug where if fell over my breast. “I heard you stirring around by yourself. Wondered if you wanted some company? Demons haunting you again, little girl?”
I swallowed. The little girl reference had worn thin long ago, but by the scent of him, Kobi was intoxicated and upset, so I let it pass. “You are the one up drinking alone in the darkness of night. Mayhap, something haunts the demon.”
“Touché.” He raised the tumbler in his other hand, his eyes flashing with fire for the briefest moment. “If you had a drink with me, I would no longer be alone.”
I stepped back. He followed, closing the distance between us once more. “I, uh . . . though to go to the kitchen for some hot cocoa. You are welcome to join me.”
“Cocoa? Lightweight. This is a hell of a lot more effective than cocoa.” When I shook my head, he shrugged and emptied the glass himself.
“Kobi, not to be impolite, but what can I do for you?”
He bit his bottom lip, his mouth twitching in a crooked smirk. “Glad you asked. You see, after our little make-out session in the clinic, I realized something was different. I don’t go for the whole Victoriana librarian thing—ever—but there’s something about you.”
He slid a hand across the small of my back and pulled me against his muscled chest. “You soothe something inside my demon nature, Highborne. Something which has burned away at my insides my whole cursed life.”
My ears flushed. “I am pleased I eased your discomfort but our moment together was for your healing. We cannot—”
The piercings in his dark brow pinched as he frowned. “Don’t cock-block me yet. Think about it, Lia. You’re of age, inexperienced and unattached. I spend a lot of time at Haven. We could keep things casual, spend some time having fun.”
I opened my mouth to answer and his lips were on mine.
His tongue penetrated, the taste of alcohol strong. His hands ventured down my back and under my nightshirt to stroke my bare buttocks.
I braced my hands on his chest and pushed back as far as his strength allowed. “Stop, please. Apologies, but no.”
He kissed my cheek, my jaw, my neck. “You sure? You’re hungry, little Lia. I can taste it. There are advantages to being friends with benefits.”
I pushed again and he released me with a curse.
Kobi was a highly sexual male—an incubus demon. The primal part of me he had awoken in the clinic wanted more, wanted all Kobi offered, hungered for that kind of connection, longed to be wanted with an all-consuming passion.
Yet not by him.
“Mayhap you should excuse yourself before something happens we both regret.”
Kobi chuckled and arched a pierced ebony brow. “Demons don’t do regret. Waste of fucking time. Live for the moment, Highborne.”
I drew a deep unsteady breath and stepped towards the bed, thought better of it, and strode back towards the bathroom door. Remembering who lay sleeping on the other side of that shared bathroom, I changed course once again and wound up standing back with Kobi. “Highbornes are not casual lovers. Consummated means committed—for life—forever more. I doubt that is your desire.”
He wagged his finger. “Don’t toss “forever” bullshit at me. Tham talked about pleasuring the females in your village a hundred times. We could be creative and keep it casual and you know it.”
“And do my feelings enter into this arrangement?”
His sultry smile triggered warmth deep in my belly. “Trust me, Lia, you’ll be feeling things. So, will I. Even after one kiss, the relief is exquisite.”
“So, I am to be the balm on your pained existence? How romantic. It is a far cry from the all-consuming love I dreamed of in my youth.”
Kobi’s jaw clenched tight. “Romance is an illusion for naïve school girls. Don’t buy into that shit. It’ll do nothing but wear you down.”
I envisioned the passion shared between Galan and Jade and Iadon and Nyssa. Yes. I absolutely did believe in love. “I am sorry you suffer, Kobi. I wish to ease you but you are not the male my heart desires. Go now, please.”
“I’ll go, but not far. We will be together, Highborne. I get what I want in the end. Always do.” The slam of the door echoed through the sleepy silent halls. I winced and studied the bathroom door.
If Samuel heard the noise, he would race in to check on me. What would I say about Kobi’s visit? He was already angry about my first private encounter with him. I smoothed my hair and waited. I would make him understand. I would apologize for losing my temper and make amends.
I waited. Nothing.
My heart sank. Mayhap he was merely lost to slumber. Verily, if I meant to stand on my own, I needed to stop depending on well-meaning males. I nodded to myself, resigned to my original course of visiting the kitchen to fix myself a cup of hot cocoa.
“Lia?” Zophia said right beside me.
I staggered to the side, collided into an ornate gold plant stand, and scrambled to right it before dirt spilled over the polished marble floor. After setting the vessel back, I scanned the vaulted ceilings of the room, the vignettes of ornamental vases and bronze statuary and the thick, floor-to-ceiling brocade tapestries hanging from black irons rod running the length of one long wall.
“You Flashed me to the Fae Palace? How? I thought the Dens were protected against magic.”
Zophia smiled, her midnight blue eyes filled with amusement. “Protected against realm magic, maybe, but my abilities are a little more powerful.”
I had never considered Zophia a particularly powerful female: elegant, educated, regal—yes. But verily, as one of the Fates and a member of the Fae Pantheon, she would be very powerful.
Zophia stepped forward, her long dark hair piled high on her head with little escaping tendrils falling next to her glowing pearl face. Her ice-blue gown kissed the sheen of the sleek floor as she practically glided to stand before me. “Lia, I know it’s late, but I need to speak with you privately and have been watching for a moment to find you alone.”
I smoothed my fingertips along the hem of Samuel’s t-shirt where it met my thigh. “Speak about what? Has something happened? Are your sisters tormenting you?”
Looking dreadfully serious she waved her hand through the air and a cool breeze sprang up out of still air. The tapestries hanging against the long walls leaped to life, sliding along the rod as they shifted position. Flapping and rearranging themselves, they bustled like magic carpets until one woven tapestry settled deliberately to the front.
Zophia stroked the weave of fabric and nodded, her dark gaze falling everywhere except on me. “Lia? Do you recall my station as one of the Fates?”
I did—Keeper of the Lives in Progress—Sweet Shalana. “Oh, no. Galan’s young? Are they well? Have you seen something? Galan and Jade will be heartbroken if—”
She waved her hand between us. “No. The babies are doing as well as can be expected. This is not about Galan’s young. I came to speak about you . . . about Abaddon’s claim and about my testimony when you face my sisters.”
The bitter taste of bile rose and caught in my throat. “Your testimony? You must to speak to his claim?”
“Yes. I’m the Keeper of Lives. I was asked to study your tapestry and disclose the truth of what happened during the time Abaddon held you in his compound.”
My heart leaped. Zophia could access what happened and refute his accusations and prove Abaddon spoke nothing but lies.“You can testify I am a newling and he is a liar. Despite his claim, he cannot force me to be his mate—”
Zophia had yet to smile.
“What am I missing, cousin? This is good news, is it not?”
She turned to the tapestry and the lights dimmed. “Lia? Did you mean what you said to Samuel? You want everyone to stop tiptoeing around you?”
I bobbed my head. “Please, yes, if you have something important to say, I wish to hear it.”
With a grim nod, she waved her hand over the fabric of the closest tapestry.
Another breeze came up and the loveliest scent filled my senses. Where Castian’s powers smelled of bergamot and mint, Zophia’s smelled of spring rain. She turned to gaze at me. “Galan said you don’t remember your confinement. It’s against our basic tenet to interfere but you should see this before you’re in a room full of people. I thought it might be better this way. To prepare yourself.”
Zophia took my hand and drew my fingers back and forth across row after row of the weave, unwanted memories unlocked in my head: being laid out on a rolling cart, positioned at the front of the Scourge dining hall, Abaddon’s weight over me, the stench of his triumph and lust singing my nostrils, reeling against the stillness of my body as he penetrated to my innermost depths. And not once. Evening after evening, for the entertainment of his army.
Violated. The depravity of it . . .
I raced to the closest niche and vomited into a vase. The images persisted. My insides gripped and twisted as every hormone-filled scent, guttural sound, and callous touch washed over me. Whatever levee of denial my subconscious had erected, crashed down around me.
I wanted to run, to get away from Zophia’s gaze and the woven authentication of my shame. My trembling legs would never hold my weight if I attempted to move. I sank to my knees on the polished floor, the soiled Fae antiquity in my lap. “Apologies, I, uh—”
Zophia rushed before me and ran a hand down my arm. “Don’t worry about that old thing. How can I help? Tell me.”
I wiped the tears from my cheek and drew an unsteady breath. “Would you mind . . . could you please send me back to my suite?”
“Are you sure you want to be alone?”
I nodded. No words spoken could change the truth.
Zophia rested her arm across my shoulders and hugged me before she stood. “I’m sorry, Lia. I wish . . . well, I wish a lot of things had been different for you.”
“How long?”
Her head tilted to the side, a long, dark tendril falling against her breast. “Until you’re called before the Fates?”
I nodded, my breath coming in rough hiccoughs.
“A few days . . . a week if I can push them off.”
I closed my eyes and waited until the silk of my coverlet replaced the cold of polished stone beneath my shins. How had this happened? I knew. A part of me had always known. It was the reality I had fought inside myself for months, the darkness I had denied—the truth.
I had been mated by a monster.