Chapter Fifty-One
The room was dark. Angel couldn’t tell how big it was; the walls were somewhere in that darkness. But the floor beneath her was black marble. The light that allowed her to see her enemy was unspecific, emanating from nowhere. It was magic. By the feel of it, she would guess they were somewhere in the fae realm. Unseelie.
She couldn’t believe she’d wound up here. She was well trained and she’d taken every precaution, and yet she’d fallen into her enemy’s hands regardless.
A scene from Jim Henson’s Labyrinth came to her fear-addled brain….
“That’s not fair!” cried Hoggle as he tried and failed to take his jewels back from Sarah.
“No, it isn’t,” Sarah replied, who kept him easily at bay. But then she straightened and her face changed as she suddenly realized the depth of the statement. “But that’s the way it is.”
Life wasn’t fair. Sometimes you lost no matter how hard you tried. And that was just the way it was.
Angel watched her captor with eyes half filled with wariness and half with unshed tears. Malek Taal was an excruciatingly impressive figure. She could barely look at him, his presence was so powerful. What made it worse was that it was clear he was feeling impatient. Determined. Rushed. And she knew why.
There were waves of this edginess radiating from him like ripples in an upset pond. She couldn’t watch him any longer. She knew it was stupid to take your eyes off your enemy, but she was overwhelmed and it didn’t matter anyway. So she closed her eyes and tried to breathe enough to keep from falling down.
She had one last spell’s worth of magic at her disposal, if she was lucky. Even that would leave her utterly drained and unable to stand up afterward. But at least it was there. There was hope of some kind.
The problem was, she had no idea what to cast or what would work. Transport would fail, no doubt. She could sense wards like mad in the darkness around her. She wasn’t wounded, so she didn’t need healing. She knew any offensive magic she could throw at him would not hurt him in the slightest. So what could she do?
To bide for time, she stalled as best she could. “You’re Malek Taal,” she said softly.
His response was easy and calm despite the sharpness of his aura. It gave nothing away. “I am.” His voice was beautiful. It was that kind of beautiful that was difficult to even imagine until you heard it for yourself. It was the fae in him, probably. The unseelie fae. It also bore an accent that she knew she would never place because it was ancient and came from everywhere.
“I…” she faltered. She licked her lips, swallowed hard, and tried again. “I was told… your kind were a possible threat to me.” But I had no idea it would be you yourself I had to fear, and I certainly had no idea you were more of a threat than Dmitri. “Why me?” she asked.
There was a brief pause filled with strange sensations, as if his magical feelers were brushing against her, testing her, curious and eager. Then he laughed, and again it was beautiful. “Is that a serious question, little warrior?”
Angel’s eyes flew open. The tone of his voice had just become so laid-back, and he’d asked the question with such honest surprise, she was surprised herself. When she met his gaze, his black eyes bore into her, and his lips offered her a soft smile. “Angel, you already know the answer. You’re a warden, so I’m well aware you’ve been briefed on the predicament befalling my men. Hence you know what it is I seek.” He came just a little closer, and Angel tensed up. He stopped and said, “I was told by someone very wise that my fate rests in the hands of a warrior such as yourself. But there’s no way to know for certain until….”
Angel’s eyes closed again. She swallowed hard. The kiss, she thought. The Taal Kiss.
Lord Malek doesn’t waste time, Gabriel had once told her while teaching her about the fae during one of her earlier training sessions. What he wants he takes, and quickly. Now she knew exactly what he meant.
“You think I’m the Kindred you’ve been told to seek out.” That’s what they were called, the new mates the Taal men were in need of.
“I believe it is a distinct possibility.”
Angel almost flinched. He was so cold. So calculated. But he hadn’t done anything to her yet. He simply paced slowly around her and answered her questions. He was holding back for a reason, and the only reason she could imagine was that he regretted what he was going to do and wanted to give her time to come to grips with it.
Angel shook her head. “There are hundreds of wardens. And you don’t even know me.” She looked up pleadingly. “You could be wrong.”
Malek smiled, showing her his fangs. Angel felt the blood drain from her face. “True. I suppose we’ll know soon enough whether I need to keep looking, won’t we?”
Angel felt sick suddenly. He wasn’t going to give an inch.
Her insides felt like they became metal, and she swayed a little as dizziness swept over her. It didn’t help that her arms were locked behind her back. It was harder to maintain balance that way. But panic was knocking on her door.
The Taal Kiss was notoriously and profoundly intense. Some humans literally went mad under its assault. She’d seen them afterwards. They were husks of their former selves, wide-eyed and empty inside.
Given how she felt right now, how drained and weary, Angel didn’t think she would make it through this. Warrior or not. Her only salvation was that the Taal needed permission to give their target the kiss. She wished it was that way for vampires and werewolves and a host of other supes as well, but despite myth once again, that just wasn’t the case. Still, at least the Storyteller had evened the playing field for one of the most dangerous among them.
The Taal men could not take a woman unless she let them. Unfortunately, there were ways for the Taal to get around that. And probably especially for their ridiculously powerful king.
Angel closed her eyes and whispered, “Please don’t do this. Please choose someone else.”
“After the trouble I went to in order to bring you here? It would be a shame not to proceed.”
There was no warning. Angel cried out when sudden, hard sensations invaded her body, dug deep and made her feel. Her core lit on fire. But not in a bad way. It was a breathless evocation. It was inviting. It was not unpleasant.
It was just devastating and unwanted.
She knew she had fallen to her knees with the onslaught, but she didn’t remember hitting the ground. She frantically tried to reason with herself, to get her heart back under control, but it was already too much – and he’d barely started.
She inhaled sharply through her teeth when he slid his hand around her throat from behind. Without her having noticed his movement, he now knelt directly at her back. She couldn’t even struggle when he almost lovingly tilted her head back to rest it against his shoulder. His lips were at her ear. “I like you, Angel. I have no desire to break you. But I won’t be denied. Please make this easier on yourself. Give me what I need in order to do what I have to do.”
He wanted her permission right now. Just like that. He really didn’t waste time.
Once again, just as it was for Dmitri, all she had to do was give in. But also as it was with Dmitri, she was terrified of losing some vital aspect of herself. With Dmitri, she’d always been afraid of losing her freedom. With Malek Taal, she was afraid of losing her mind.
She wondered if there was anyone looking for her. If anyone had any reason to even suspect she needed help. Did they have any idea she might be trapped by one of the realms’ most powerful men?
Probably not. Things had become so convoluted, so helplessly twisted in the mortal realm. Somewhere out there, a Terror copy of herself was probably putting on a great big smile right now. It was probably laughing and fooling everyone. No one would suspect a thing.
Angel was doomed. And yet, she would rather be dead than crazy.
“No,” she whispered, but barely.
Malek sighed, disappointed. His grip on her throat tightened just a little. “Very well. You leave me no choice.”