Reign To Ravage (Myth of Omega Book 5)

by Zoey Ellis

  "I wouldn't call his rule successful,” Malloron said, darkly.

  "What would you call it?” she asked. "He had less of a hold on the rulers, but many liked him.”

  "Weak is what I would call it.” Malloron leaned forward on the table. "And it is what he called it too. The royal family shouldn't be beholden to the other rulers. He knew it but he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't rule as strongly as he wanted to because he couldn't move. He wanted me to redress that.”

  Amara watched him closely as he spoke. His usual smirk faded and his eyes bore into hers. "Did he tell you to do that through creating the restrained?”

  Malloron held her eyes for a moment and then rose from his chair. "No. He told me to get a foothold on the most desired commodity in the Lands and attach the Visant name to it.”

  "The most desired commodity?”

  He walked around to chair and locked her with a look that caused that familiar stir between her legs. "Sex.”

  She looked away from the burning desire in his eyes but he leaned down and swooped her up in his arms. She tried not to be affected by his hard chest against her body or the sudden potency of his scent, but her body was already preparing for him and his scent was causing her mind to muddle. She groaned in despair. This couldn't go on—she wouldn't survive this if she was affected by him like this the whole time. Within moments she was trembling under him, clawing the bed, and almost begging for his rough touch.

  ***

  Unfortunately, over the days that followed, there was little improvement with the tenebris. She was able to stir it into very slow action whenever Malloron was purring but the progress was so gradual.

  "I don't see the point in trying this so many times,” Amara huffed, after Malloron insisted she try again late one evening. "It’s not working, not even a little.”

  "It will take time, Amara,” Malloron said. "It is improving but you need to keep trying.”

  "I’m tired of trying,” she snapped. "And I still don't have my own space, even though it’s the whole reason I wanted to move in here. You’re here all the time.”

  "How do you hope to have any improvement without my input?” Malloron asked, his voice deepening. "In fact, how do you hope to deal with your need for my cock if I’m not here?”

  Amara’s anger spiked at the slight mocking in his tone. He was the one forcing her need for his cock. "Don't turn it on me,” she snapped. "You’re not even giving me a chance to deal with being separated from you. It was part of our agreement. Are you going to honor it or not?”

  Malloron growled, his eyes flashing, but after a moment he lifted his weight off her and climbed out of the bed. He stood for a moment, looking as though he might say something, but turned on his heel and left.

  Amara immediately covered herself with the blankets and sheets and rolled onto her side, determination burning through her that she wouldn't let her need for him get the better of her. She couldn't think properly with him around. He dominated everything—her mind, her body, her senses—and then he wanted to dominate her further by forcing her to keep trying to engage this energy within her that was clearly broken beyond repair. Maybe his eagerness to fix it was impeding him from seeing that.

  She grabbed and hugged one of the semen-drenched pillows, pressing her nose into it and deeply breathing in his scent before realizing what she was doing. Pushing it away, she curled up into a tiny ball and decided to firmly think about something else. Soon the need for him would overwhelm her so this was her only time to truly think.

  She had agreed to help his efforts with the tenebris but she had asked for information in return. It was crucial not to allow his dominance make her forget that fact. In fact, she had to remember that he was capable of messing with her mind to make her forget what he was supposed to be offering as his part of the deal. She stilled, a realization slowly occurring. Unless she knew for certain that he wasn’t poisoning her, it would be impossible to truly believe him. And it was even more important now. Even though she had known he couldn't be trusted, the degree to which he had trapped her, lied and deceived her was extreme—she had to consider that he could have truly been poisoning her all along.

  Climbing out of the bed, she slipped on her night tunic and padded to the door. The evening had worn on until the skies were dark, and the castle should be quiet. He had once told her she could check the kitchens—that had to be the first place to start, but he had probably locked her in. When she opened the door, she almost screamed in shock.

  Malloron stood on the other side of the door facing her, his arms gripping either side the door frame, tense and bulky as he leaned against it, his massive form filling the doorway and blocking the way.

  "What are you doing?” Amara almost shrieked.

  "Where the fuck are you going?” Malloron bit out, his eyes darkening as he took her in.

  Amara tried to compose herself, breathing heavily as her heart pounded in her chest. "Nowhere,” she said, trying to spit the word at him but instead sounding breathless. "I was just seeing if the door was locked.”

  Malloron’s eyes narrowed and ran over her body, but he said nothing. She was wearing her night tunic and had slippers on—nothing suggested she was intending on roaming the castle.

  "What are you doing standing there?” Her annoyance rose as her shock faded. "Are you not intending on sticking to our agreement?”

  "I am out of your rooms,” Malloron bellowed, his sudden deep shout making her jump.

  "I said I needed space,” Amara hissed. "If you are going to stand here and wait for me to need you, that is not giving me space.”

  Malloron scowled. "I don't need to wait for that. You need me now, Amara. And I need you."

  A shock trembled through her—he was right. His scent had intensified to something enticingly luscious; heady and powerful, and the need for him sparked through her as wildly as the white fire from the Wastelands. The tingling in her stomach spiraled down between her legs and her eyes widened as the Alpha inhaled a deep breath and dropped his hands from the door frame, taking a step toward her.

  She quickly shot her palm up. "Stop, Malloron,” she said, warningly.

  He took another step, his brown eyes darkening to the deepest, most beautiful, shiny brown she had ever seen.

  "Please,” she whispered. "Honor your word.”

  At that, he stopped.

  Amara watched him closely as every bit of him tensed. He clenched his fists and turned away from her, letting out a thunderous roar that seemed to burst out of him. Shooting her a deadly look, he spun around and left the room.

  Amara stared at the open door, her legs trembling as she heard him marching down the corridor. She shut the door and ran back to the bed. Surrounding herself with his scented bedding, she brought herself to two orgasms, her mind filled with the memory of his dark glare and majestic form.

  When she caught herself licking the dried semen on the bedding, she forced herself to get up and bathe. She wasn't completely satisfied, but at least the overwhelming urge had lessened significantly.

  After she bathed, she dressed in a more appropriate tunic, put her slippers back on, and once again approached the door. This time when she opened it, no one was there. She peeked out cautiously, looking in both directions along the corridor, but no one seemed to be around. The soft glow of candlelight lit the hallway and a mellow calmness swathed the entire area.

  Amara slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her. She navigated through the corridors heading in the general direction of the main kitchens, focusing intently to ensure that the magic around her showed her surroundings. She moved quickly and quietly, her head down and her body slumped, mimicking the disposition of servants of the castle. When she finally came across some servants, she straightened her posture and used her mouth to ask them where the royal kitchens were. Although they were wary of her, she did not wear a servant tunic and there was no telling who she might be so they answered her. She kept her eyes low while trying t
o read their lips and repeated what they said, then use gestures to figure out the direction.

  As she arrived at the kitchens, she took a moment to focus her mind and push energy into the blank areas that did not materialize.

  Although the royal kitchens were larger, they were not that dissimilar to the servants’ kitchen. Amara stood in the corner near to where she entered and surveyed the space. It was indeed well-equipped, with huge earthstoves, dry-fire pots, cupboards, and ingredients. A lone chef stood working at one of the counters, seemingly preparing for the next day. Amara watched her closely, making note of where she pulled ingredients from and her methods of what she was doing. Suddenly, the woman spun around, startled, and looked directly in Amara’s direction.

  Glancing around, Amara saw a pot lid rotating to a stop on the ground. She had just knocked something over. Cursing inwardly, she kept her eyes on the woman as she came closer, peering at her. She wore traditional chef robes, and her rose gold hair had been twisted up into a round ball at back of her head. As she neared, her face smoothed and she held her palms up toward Amara and began speaking.

  Amara watched her lips move, but couldn't figure out what she was saying. She didn't seem to be aggressive, but that didn't mean anything. Malloron could be completely overbearing using just his words.

  The woman stopped speaking, and Amara edged backward as she stared at her. The woman stayed on the spot watching Amara expectantly. As the silence grew between them, her gaze turned to one of confusion. She spoke again, her whole stance shifting to uncertainty. Amara noticed a golden trim around the edges and cuffs of her robes. It wasn't something she had seen before with any chef in the castle—maybe she was important.

  The woman turned and grabbed a large piece of parchment with a chart drawn on it. She held it out and Amara saw her name on the top. The chart listed every single meal that had been prepared for her since she arrived, including the ingredients used, and how much of the food had been eaten. In the corner at the top was the word "Untainted.”

  Amara carefully took the chart and examined it. She then turned it to the woman and pointed to the word "Untainted.”

  The woman spoke again, gesturing with her hands as she glanced at the chart.

  Amara pointed to one of the meals on the chart and suddenly the woman broke into a grin. She headed over to one of the cupboards and pointed to something on the shelves. Amara inched forward and peered at what she was pointing at. It was an ingredient of the meal Amara had pointed to. The woman then moved to point to another, and then another, taking Amara around the kitchen as she pointed out all the ingredients that made up the meal.

  Amara nodded slowly in understanding. She pointed at another meal and the woman proceeded to show her where all the ingredients were. She then pointed to the word "Untainted,” but the woman shook her head and spoke again. Amara pointed again and again at the word, trying to get her to understand that she wanted to know.

  The woman squinted at the word then glanced back up at Amara. She shook her head in confusion but then turned slowly and headed to the corner of the kitchen.

  Amara followed her and watched her open a cabinet that held numerous bottles and containers. The woman turned and spoke to her again, but Amara slipped past her to examine the cabinet. All the potions were labeled, including the ingredients. Amara reached out to take one of them but the woman grabbed her hand and yanked it down. She spoke forcefully and shook her head adamantly until Amara patted her arm and nodded that she understood. The woman was not going to let her touch or take anything in the cupboard, which was understandable considering some of them could be dangerous.

  Amara examined what she could of the bottles where she stood without touching them. All the potions seem to be quite standard based on their labels. There were ones to cause varying degrees of drowsiness, amend mood, alter vision, make someone more agreeable, and confuse the senses. But nothing that suggested any manipulation and increasing someone’s sexual desire.

  Amara cautiously lifted her hand and pointed to some of the bottles she couldn't see. The chef shot her a look and then fished out the bottles that were at the back. They were not labeled with anything that could be affecting Amara. She also got the chef to lay out the ingredients and spells from the cabinet, and although they were all common ingredients and common spells—nothing that could be used to create her need for Malloron.

  She mulled over the meaning of the lack of poisons as she watched the chef carefully put everything back. There had to be something. After everything she’d experienced, after everything that’d happened, there had to be an explanation.

  The chef finally finished fixing the cabinet and turned to Amara, a wide grin on her face, but her smile faltered as soon as she saw Amara’s expression.

  Amara lifted the chart once more, and pointed to the word "Untainted,” hoping that the woman would be honest with her.

  The woman stilled, and a sorrowful expression entered her face. She pointed at the word "Untainted” and then shook her head. She thought for a moment, and then moved quickly to the other end of the kitchen to grab a quill pen.

  Carefully taking the chart from Amara, she wrote "Queen” before her name and then underlined the word "Untainted” and added in shaky scrawling writing, "by order of the king." She lifted her face to Amara, her eyes hopeful, her grin spreading once more.

  The desperation in Amara reached its highest height, but the hope in the woman’s eyes forced her to smile. The chef seemed truly worried by what Amara was asking, but there could be numerous reasons for that.

  Amara placed the chart back where she found it and then thanked the woman with a dip to the head. The woman bowed low and Amara quickly and quietly left the kitchen.

  As she made her way back through the darkened corridors, she realized she may never truly find the answer to what she needed to know. Maybe the king wasn't poisoning her, but she still had to figure out what was happening between them. Maybe she should just ask him. Was this going to be her life? Fending off her attraction to Malloron? Eventually it would wear her down until she was just a shell of herself, craving after Alpha cock like the restrained in the dungeons. How much longer could she keep this up? Even if she did have the information he had promised to give her through their agreement, she would still be a slave to the need for him. Even now, as she walked back to the room she knew he would visit soon, the desire was growing stronger and stronger.

  Amara was in such deep thought that she didn't notice she was no longer alone in the corridor. She jumped as someone grabbed her shoulders, and she looked up to see the wide eyes of King Malloron’s assistant, Emric. He was speaking to her rapidly, as his hand squeezed her shoulders, but she could not hear him. She tried to shake him off before realizing that there was a group of huge men strolling behind him.

  One of them, the largest one in the center, said something, and Emric released her and stepped back. Fixing his expression to one of calm indifference, he turned around and spoke to the man behind him.

  Amara watched them closely, curiosity building in her. They had to be Alphas, but she had never seen anyone dress in their kind of clothing before.

  They wore strange tunics that were cut differently from any style she had seen in the Western or Eastern Lands. A wide belt with an enormous gold buckle sat on their waists and on their feet thick leather sandals that looked almost as weighty as boots. Around their shoulders sat a strip of thick fur that extended halfway down the backs and all visible skin was marked with black lines and patterns.

  After a short exchange, the Alpha in the center stepped forward craning his neck to see Amara, a curious expression on his face. Emric tensed immediately and moved to stand directly in front of her. He began speaking, but Amara could only tell because the Alpha turned his attention back to him.

  She trembled slightly, as the need for Malloron increased, then wrapped her arms around her middle so it wouldn't be obvious. She still needed to get back to her bedroom before the king arrive
d—if she was feeling like this, then he was too—but her room was still quite a distance away.

  Suddenly her attention was drawn by strong vibrations that seemed to be coming from the end of the corridor. She peered around Emric, strengthening her focus, and saw a rippling wave of magic brushing along the walls. She watched it, in awe, as it came closer, unsure what she should do. Did she need a shield to protect herself? And what about Emric? He was clearly trying to keep her from these men.

  Before she could decide, the magic reached them and jumped into Emric, causing a flash over his whole body. He stiffened and Amara froze. She couldn't see his face with his back to her to know if he was all right, but then he suddenly turned to her his eyes wide. He said something, the expression on his face becoming more haunted as he spoke, and a sense of dread spiraled within Amara.

  Emric backed away from her until he reached the wall and then lifted his hand. He spoke again, but this time Amara could understand what he mouthed. “I’m sorry.” With that, he placed his hand on the wall and a blast of magic sprung from his hand and headed back down the corridor.

  Amara stared at Emric, confused at what was happening. What had he just done that he was sorry for? What did magic running along the walls of the castle mean?

  A surge of need spread through her body, and she gripped her arms around herself tighter as the trembling became worse. She was trying so hard to focus on the desperate need clawing at her, that she did not notice the strangely dressed Alpha moving closer toward her until he was almost hovering above her. She looked up at him and saw he was speaking, a curious look on his face as he observed her. His hair was strange—a wide strip of low cut blonde hair in the center of his head, while the sides were shaved—and black symbols on his face and neck. She stepped back, inching away from him, keeping her eyes on him in case she needed to run. But as she moved, he moved toward her, the confusion on his face deepening.

  A sudden vibration a few feet away drew her attention. Magic was being pulled together, layered and woven to create a portal along the wall of the corridor. It came together quickly, and she watched in surprise as the mouth of the portal stretched open and King Malloron stepped through.