Chapter Twenty-seven
“Hungry?”
His voice was distant to Eva. She was so tired. She’d lost too much blood. But her will had always been stronger than her body, and somehow Eva managed to get her eyes opened.
Arach was across the room, leaning on the back of the couch, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He was eating something. Some kind of pastry. He stopped mid-bite when she opened her eyes, and then he slowly finished.
When he’d chewed and swallowed the last of it, he shook his head. “Wow.” He pushed off the couch, brushed his hands together to de-crumb them, and casually slid them into the pockets of his pants. “Your eyes are stunning when you are suffering. They lighten to the faintest lilac, nearly white.”
Eva watched him as he moved from the living room to the kitchen, and then she allowed her eyes to slide shut again. It was so hard to focus. All she knew was pain and exhaustion. Her single consolation was that he hadn’t yet violated her. But it was an overwhelmingly slight consolation, given how evident his desire was.
He’s saving up, she knew bitterly. To celebrate your defeat.
“I see the rumors about your inability to heal yourself are true,” he told her conversationally as she imagined he rummaged through the fridge or perhaps a cupboard. She could hear him moving but couldn’t have cared much less what he was doing. Not any more.
She’d never wished to be dead before, could never even imagine actually wanting to be dead, but… right now….
Come now, little one. Your death is not what you desire.
Eva’s eyes snapped open. The voice in her head was not her own. Nor was it Arach’s. Nor was it Calidum’s. It was strange. It was a new male voice, deep, resonant, beautiful, comforting, and utterly unrecognizable.
I’m going crazy, she thought. I’m literally hearing voices. Arach actually drove me nuts.
“I can feed you, Eva. I can give you the nourishment you need to heal from your wounds. You might not have the ability to heal them for yourself as you can for others, but dragons do mend quickly, as I’ve heard do Nomads.”
She could hear the smugness in his voice, but rather than the sickness she’d been feeling of late at the sound of it, she was distracted. There was a presence in her mind. It wasn’t just the voice; there was something else. And actually, it wasn’t just in her mind. It seemed to wrap around her from far away, like a warm blanket.
“All you need do is acquiesce,” continued Arach. “Rescind your promise.” The sound of his shoes on the floor brought him before her, and Eva met his green gaze. She hated how beautiful he was. Becoming a Nomad and a vampire had only amplified what he’d already possessed. In a way, she wished she were a Nightmare, an incubus. Nightmares saw what was on the inside of a person. She would be able to view Arach like the slug worm maggot piece of shit he actually was, and not the deceptive prince he appeared to be.
“Vow to spur the Dragon King,” he told her softly as his gaze narrowed, and he held up a single, perfect apple in his right hand. It was her favorite kind of apple, and her stomach panged at the sight of it. Her dragon senses could smell it.
“And all of this,” he said, gesturing to her worn and drained body, “will end. You can not only eat anything you desire, you will be showered with riches beyond your wildest dreams.” He moved closer, his expression appealing. “Or you can continue to deny me. And I can introduce you to my new toy, the wooden pony. I could watch you ride it in exquisite torment for days.”
Eva looked away from him to deny him the pleasure of seeing her revulsion.
“Surely you must realize that I will win in the end. This can only continue as it has, Eva. I can keep going for weeks. Months.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Centuries.”
“What you want… is not even possible… and you know it,” she said softly. Arach was suggesting something that she knew couldn’t happen. A Nomad had to keep their word once it was given, and that was that.
She finally let her head fall forward. It was getting hard to hold it up. Her throat hurt. He’d bitten her twice and taken so much blood. Her hair brushed over her bruised shoulders to frame her face. The strands were thick and silver-white, shimmering like a waterfall before her eyes. She allowed herself to get lost in it. It was more pleasant.
But a finger under her chin lifted her head and brought her gaze back to his. He smiled warmly. “For a full Nomad, you’re right. But you’re half dragon, Eva. Legendary, no less. That half still holds some sway.”
She hated to admit it, but that had her attention. Because if it was actually possible, then Arach would fight for it until she gave in. She couldn’t die. Not by his hand. This really could go on forever.
Arach maintained his hold on her and looked down at the apple in his hand. He took a massive bite out of the apple, his strong teeth cutting cleanly into the flesh of the fruit and chewing heartily.
“I hate your face,” she hissed, which only made Arach laugh.
Then rid him of it, little one.
Eva blinked again. It was the voice, back in her head – and she felt its presence around her even stronger than before. It warmed her hands and feet where they’d gone cold. It seemed almost a salve on her wounds.
There was a sigh in her mind, forlorn, deep, and powerful. Look what he’s done to you… That was said as if he were speaking to himself and not her. The presence grew angry; she could feel its agitation like a sudden brush of sandpaper on her soul. She winced.
At once, the harshness of the presence abated. The voice’s owner was suddenly holding back, and it seemed for her sake. She could sense that for some reason, he cared.
Think, little one, he told her, his focus back on speaking gently but persistently. Arach made promises too. He must keep those promises now.
Evangeline blinked a third time – not only because of the one-sided conversation going on in her head, but because what it was telling her was true, and she only now realized it. Arach was a Nomad, and he’d told her he would not “try” to hurt Mimi and Calidum, but would hurt them. It was a promise he would have to keep now.
Will you let him?
No, she thought, horrified.
No, the voice repeated.
No, she whispered to herself. In her mind’s eye, she saw Mimi smile, heard her laugh. Then the redhead faded, and she caught the scent of storm and leather, and in the darkness, a grayscale fire burned, peering deep into her soul.
The voice sighed again. Ah, yes. Korridum… he bore the lie well. Again, it was a string of words not necessarily directed at her. It felt more like she was listening in on someone else’s thoughts, sad and ancient. They rumbled through her like a whisper so deep she felt it in her bones.
The Great Gray…
I accused him, she told the voice. Because she knew who it was now; she knew the owner of the voice. She was certain of it. I thought he was guilty, father. All this time. I thought he’d killed you… but you’re alive.
The voice said nothing to that, but Arach moved in front of her, drawing her attention. The Traitor’s gaze narrowed. “What the….”
Eva peered at him through her waterfall of hair. But on either side of her face, the silver white veil of shimmering locks began to change. The effect was an ombré shift, darkening at the tips first, switching them from white to light gray, as they became dark gray, the hair further up the shaft darkening, taking on the lighter gray cast. And this continued, little by little, until the ends were deep, dark, shimmering black, and the rest of her hair was not far behind.
“Impossible,” Arach said, his voice suddenly shaking.
Eva watched her hair turn, and felt the warmth of that transformation infuse her body, and suddenly she not only knew the voice in her head belonged to her father – she knew exactly who her father was.
That, alone, gave her ample strength.
“You’re Anharidan’s daughter,” Arach said, shaking his head. “How….” Arach was appeared woefully confused, but Eva could see, there in the flash of his eyes, that a part of him clearly understood. In truth, he was not quite so much confused as scared.
As Evangeline straightened in her bindings, her fangs lengthened just past her lips, and her hair completed its shimmering transformation to settle into a hue as dark as a moonless night, the Traitor figured out what Eva already had. Anharidan, the Great White was not her father. Her father was Bantariax.
The Great Black.
Ban was the most enigmatic of the three Legendaries, and certainly the darkest.
Change, coaxed the voice in Eva’s head. She knew what he meant her to do. He was telling her to shift into her true dragon form. It was something she had never done, not in all this endless time. Now she realized why.
She had never changed because she knew that doing so would reveal who she really was. It would reveal who her father was. In doing so, it would blow away everything she had ever held as true her entire life. She hadn’t been strong enough to face that inner duplicity. Not then.
But by the gods, she was now.
That’s my girl, said the voice.