by Jen McIntosh
There was a long silence while his words sank in. Still, he couldn’t find the strength to look at her. She had to know. Had to understand how it worked. She’d spent long enough in Elucion. She was a Shade, for Gods’ sake – might have even made her own Darklings at some point. How then could she ignore the risks?
To be fair, killing wasn’t always necessary. But so many Darklings found it difficult to stop. It hadn’t been that long ago that they would drain every drop of power and leave nothing but an empty, dried-out husk every time they fed. Short-sighted nonsense, even aside from the morality of it. Human souls were valuable. Their lifeblood was a limited commodity and killing them was wasteful.
It had taken him eighty years to convince the Shade King to deal with the problem. Yes, Darklings needed to consume a certain amount of life-magic, and without it, the tainted power of the Shade would poison them. But that didn’t mean they had to kill every victim. When the Graced had been at the height of their power, Darklings rarely lived long enough to realise that they didn’t need to gorge themselves with every feeding.
True, mortals varied in strength, and though the Graced carried far more power in their veins, they were long gone. At least in any meaningful numbers. Outside of places like Elucion and Dar Kual it was difficult to find enough prey, especially since feeding would always leave the victim weaker, and it took time for them to recover. It was only after the Fall that prey was plentiful enough for them to consider other options. For the King to realise that instead of draining all the magic from one soul, it was just as effective for his Darklings to take smaller amounts from several.
His announcement that his Court and their Darkling hordes had to take more care of their mortal herd had been met with mutterings of dissent and howls of frustration. He’d stopped short of banning the practice, knowing that to do so would have given his opponents the opening they needed. The Shade King was a force to be reckoned with, but even he couldn’t hold back his entire Court should it turn on him. That was why he had sent Alexan after Théon. He needed all the allies he could get.
But she couldn’t know that. For now, her loyalty was to another power. If legend was to be believed, the only power that could rival Sephiron’s heir. So he buried his thoughts deep and dared to meet her gaze. There was sorrow in her eyes. An ancient, endless grief. But there was not even the faintest glimmer of pity there. Good. He wasn’t sure he could have suffered that. Not after what he’d almost done.
‘I’m alright,’ she whispered, laying a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘Alexan, I’m alright.’
He huffed out a breath. ‘You almost weren’t. Théon … I don’t know what I’d do if I ever hurt you.’ He broke off, looking away. Too close, too close to the truth. Those were thoughts he didn’t even want to consider himself, let alone share with her. A warm, slender hand slid into his.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she promised. ‘I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?’ He chuckled weakly in acknowledgement. ‘But I don’t think we can let things continue as they have been.’
He blinked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘What we’ve been doing isn’t working. Maybe you need to feed more – take as much as you need. Well, assuming you can do so without killing me anyway,’ she added with a sly smile.
Alexan hardly believed what he was hearing. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. But all that did was exacerbate his awareness of her. She was excited by the prospect of being fed on; the scent of anticipation was on her skin. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her breathing was ragged. By the Gods, he wanted her.
‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘We can’t afford for you to lose control again,’ she insisted, ‘and besides, I’d rather you fed from me than Illyandi or Silvermane.’
He groaned. She wasn’t wrong. And he wanted so badly to taste her again. Their earlier encounter had sated his thirst enough that he thought he should be able to control himself. Plus, he mused, with any luck, she would find the entire experience so terrifying she would stay away from him. He felt his will crumble as she leaned closer to him and her scent engulfed his senses.
‘Alright,’ he groaned. He grabbed her and held her still, forcing her to look at him. ‘Promise to tell me if I hurt you too much.’
She nodded. ‘I promise.’
‘Even if you feel weak, strange … anything,’ he continued. She nodded again. ‘Promise me, Théon. Tell me to stop if needs be.’
‘I promise,’ she said again, more forcefully this time. He nodded in acceptance and took another steadying breath. She looked around, shy and awkward as she waited. He suppressed the urge to grin. It had been a long time since he’d had someone so inexperienced. She was in for a surprise. Voluntary feeding was an intimate act. Aside from the physical closeness, she was putting her life in his hands. That level of trust created a bond unlike any other.
‘This might hurt,’ he warned again, pulling her closer with a pointed look at the captain, watching them from the helm. She nodded, her eyes wide with trepidation.
‘I trust you,’ she whispered.
She meant it too.
Reverently, Alexan lowered his head to her neck. Pressed his lips to the tender skin and inhaled deeply. Scented the blood rushing through her veins. Parted his lips and pressed his teeth to her flesh. He was vaguely aware of her erratic heartbeat, pulsing against his mouth as he bit through the fine layer of skin into her bloodstream. She gasped at the sensation but did not flinch.
Her breathing was ragged now, coming in sharp gulps. She swayed as she grew more and more light-headed. He caught her about the waist and pulled her closer to him to stop her falling, the image of a lover’s embrace to anyone watching. She moaned low in her throat.
He glanced up, staring incredulously. She was enjoying it. She even whimpered when he stopped. He shook his head, forcing her to look at him while he bared his blood-covered teeth. Her eyes were heady with desire, and she moaned, louder this time. He shook his head in exasperation. She would never realise the danger if she enjoyed it. He’d have to go further if he wanted to scare her away.
He gripped her tight enough to hurt and bit down harder. She cried out softly, her eyes rolling back into her head. He growled and continued to drink, taking more than he needed even to sate his lust. Far more than he needed to survive. Better she felt weak in the morning, so she would never offer this to him again. If she did, having tasted how sweet she was now, he would never be able to refuse.
He stopped right before she fainted. Unconscious, she would never learn. Awake, she would remember how helpless she’d been. So he maintained eye contact as he licked the blood from the skin around the bite. She gasped and shivered against him. Once the wound was clean, he summoned a simple Casting to heal it and gathered her in his arms. She was limp against his chest, unable to even raise her head, as he carried her back to the cabin. He did not say a word as he entered, tiptoeing so as not to wake Illyandi or Silvermane. Laid her down and removed her boots. She watched him helplessly as he trailed his fingers higher before breaking off and covering her with the blanket. He loomed over her, his red eyes glowing through the darkness, brushed her throat in warning and left.
He spent the rest of the night above deck. Unable to settle, restless with the desire thrumming in his veins. Body buzzing with pent-up energy, yearning for release. He looked forward to landfall, to Théon’s recovery so he could channel this new power into their sparring.
He ran a thoughtful finger over his lips, considering her blood. The power it contained. He hadn’t noticed at the time, too caught up in the moment. And before, it had been barely more than a drop, never enough to register its strength. But he realised it now. He’d never felt this strong after feeding. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever felt this alive. Not even before the Claiming.
Was Illyandi’s blood as strong? Was Keriath’s? The Queens had to have fed on her by now. A pang of guilt flickered at the thought, but he shoved it aside. Would
they notice? Would they put the pieces together? What if others discovered it? She was hunted enough as it was. She would never find peace if others knew.
He dammed the torrent of thoughts and fears with a curse and turned his gaze to the lightening horizon. Watched in silence as the sailors made ready to dock.
Mari’s voice drifted down from the helm. ‘What’s the matter, poppet? Your sweetheart not satisfied with your performance last night?’
He rolled his eyes and prowled up onto the aft deck to join her.
‘I always leave my women satisfied,’ he purred. ‘If I’d known you were curious, I would have been more than happy to demonstrate for you.’
‘Mmm,’ she hummed. ‘As intriguing as that sounds, poppet, I’m afraid you don’t have the right equipment to satisfy me.’
He shrugged. ‘Too bad. Reckon you could have taught me a thing or two.’
‘Oh, definitely.’ She chuckled. ‘And even more besides. Ana would have probably indulged you; she’s a little less discerning.’
‘So I gathered.’
‘A shame neither of your lady friends swing my way. I’ve never been with one of the Graced before – I’m curious to know what the difference would be.’
He almost laughed out loud at the thought of Illyandi’s reaction to such a proposition. She’d been so sheltered for the last century. Ironic that she would never consider lowering herself to lying with a mortal but would surrender herself to the Dragon’s ministrations. Théon, meanwhile …
‘Not that much difference,’ he said, pushing the image away. ‘More stamina. More robust, if you like it rough. Dragons always seem to like it rough. Elves are a little more refined. A Phoenix can be fun, but if you want a fantastic fuck, you need to find yourself a Unicorn. The things they can do with the Enchanting. Mind blowing. Literally.’
‘You speak like you’re not one of them,’ Mari noted.
He winced at the mistake. ‘I’ve … been alone for a long time. Separated from my people.’
‘How long?’
‘Not long after the Fall. A hundred years, or near enough.’
‘And you’ve spent all that time hiding what you are? Pretending to be someone else?’
She had no idea.
‘I was thinking,’ he said, changing the subject, ‘if the Beasts are so difficult to navigate, why not make port somewhere else?’
Her face said she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push. ‘Your sweetheart paid for passage to Stormkeep, so I’m taking you to Stormkeep. That means navigating the Beasts.’
‘And if you were to take us somewhere else? Somewhere more … private? I’m sure you know a place or two along these coasts.’
‘I don’t know what you’re implying,’ she replied innocently. ‘But yes, there are other places we can drop anchor. It’ll cost you though.’
‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.’
A map was spread out on the deck and a long, narrow sea loch selected as their new destination. Coins clinked as they exchanged hands, orders were barked, and before Alexan could blink twice, they had changed course. They were now heading west along the coastline and away from Stormkeep. Satisfied, he made his way back below deck to inform Théon and Silvermane of the new tack. But it was Illyandi who answered his knock on the cabin door. And she was in a fine mood.
‘What did you do to her?’ she growled without preamble. He rolled his eyes, folded his arms and waited. Time to widen that crack just a little further. She was painfully melodramatic. He didn’t know where she’d inherited it. Diathor had been cool under pressure, serene at peace, and like Théon, unflappable in a crisis. Sarron had possessed a more fiery temper, but even he would never have stooped to such histrionics. It made her predictable. All too easy to manipulate. And it was only going to get worse if his theory was right.
‘Nothing she didn’t ask for.’
‘What did you say?’ hissed Illyandi, a Casting flashing around her.
‘Get control of yourself, you stupid girl,’ he said, gesturing at the offending aura.
The Casting broke free, shoving him back against the wall and knocking him down.
‘Don’t talk to me like that!’ she snarled.
Alexan laughed out loud as he clambered to his feet. She’d used the Casting in unprovoked violence. But his laughter only angered her further, and he hurtled backwards, crashing to the floor again. He hauled himself to his feet, suppressing a groan.
‘That’s more like it, Princess! I knew you had it in you!’ he said, grinning despite the pain. Illyandi froze up then, realising what she had done.
‘I hate you!’ she spat.
Alexan shrugged. ‘I don’t care.’
‘What have you done to my sister?’ she hissed again.
He folded his arms again and studied her. ‘I fed from her.’
‘I know. I was the one who stopped it, remember? She was fine after that! Now she’s all weak and cold! You did something else!’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I fed from her again.’
A Casting seeped out from her control again. ‘You’re a monster.’
‘She came to me last night and offered it of her own volition,’ he snapped. ‘I didn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to.’
‘That’s not the point! She’s your Queen, and you’re using her like a wine skin! You could have killed her!’
‘Get a grip,’ he snarled. ‘I’ve been feeding from people for almost as long as you’ve been alive, Princess. If I’d wanted Théon dead, she’d be dead. I weakened her on purpose, so she learns her lesson. It was a damn foolish thing to do, but she’ll not do it again.’ Illyandi could only gape at him open-mouthed. He reached over and closed her jaw with one finger.
She shook herself and scowled. ‘How long will she take to recover?’
‘Not long,’ he said. ‘Just keep her in bed so she can rest for now and make sure she eats and drinks plenty. By the time we drop anchor, she’ll be just fine.’
Illyandi gave him a long, dark look but nodded before turning on her heel and storming back inside. Alexan chuckled to himself. Perhaps Illyandi had inherited Sarron’s temper after all.
Silvermane hobbled from the cabin a few moments later, his handsome face reproachful. ‘Was any of that necessary?’
‘Probably not,’ admitted Alexan.
‘And the feeding?’
He ignored the flush of warmth spreading up his neck. ‘It won’t happen again.’
‘See that it doesn’t.’
And that was the end of it.
‘I’ve asked Mari to find another place to drop anchor besides Stormkeep. We have enough supplies, there’s no need to go into the city itself.’
‘Why do we need to avoid it?’
‘Besides the numerous eyes who might recognise Benella’s heirs? This glamour might hide me from mortal eyes, but any of the Graced within the city walls will scent me the minute I step ashore.’
‘So you’re trying to save your own skin?’
‘Don’t sound so shocked. Besides, do you think your people will be happy to find out you shared the secret of your little commune with the Shade King’s Darkling general? Brought him to its shores?’
‘Fine.’
Alexan let the pretence drop, smiling sadly. ‘The less of this place I see, the better for all those sheltering here. I can’t share what I don’t know. Hide it from me, for our peoples’ sake.’
The old man nodded in understanding. Gripped Alexan’s shoulder in sympathy and thanks. Then retired to the cabin without a word.
Alexan made his way back up on deck, watching in silent wonder as the coast drifted by, the dark grey waves breaking into plumes of white froth where they met the jagged teeth of barren rock rising from the sea floor. The patchwork of exposed moorland beyond, just visible beneath the thick blanket of storm clouds gathering. It would be beautiful in the summer. Azure ocean giving way to golden sand, the machair swaying in the salty breeze. All the land, lush and f
ertile, nourished by the sea’s bounty.
He snorted at the thought. This far north, they’d be lucky if the summer lasted more than a week. The mainland to the east wasn’t far, but whatever lay to the west was so far away that no one had ever set foot there. There was nothing between these islands and the winter storms that came thundering in off the western ocean. He’d been sent to Thornhold on the King’s business often enough to know how violent they could be.
Speaking of violence.
‘I need you to do something for me.’
Illyandi’s voice was drowning in resentment, and he couldn’t help but smirk as he turned to face at her. Sure enough, her face was shrivelled with bitterness. A broad grin rose to his lips at her discomfort.
‘And how might I be of service, Princess?’
‘I want Mari to do something, but she just laughed at me.’
He was repressing the urge to laugh himself. ‘Dare I ask what it is you want from her?’
‘I want her and Ana to ferry all those refugees across.’
Gods, she was so predictable. He was just surprised it had taken her this long to work up the nerve to ask. ‘That’s not a small job, Princess. There were a lot of people in that camp.’
‘Not that many,’ she argued. ‘It wouldn’t take more than a month. Two at most. They could even get them all over before the winter storms make the sailing impossible.’
‘And who’s going to pay? Those people don’t have that kind of money. That’s why they’ve been stuck there so long.’
‘I thought they would do it for free.’
There was no stopping the bark of laughter that escaped at that. ‘No chance those two will do anything for free. Let alone that.’
