Frost (Queens of Hell Book 1)

by Liza James

  I step back once she’s truly fallen asleep, watching as her chest rises and falls with each breath. Now that I’m not strung out on the debilitating pain of hunger, my mind begins running through every occurrence of tonight.

  Finding Skilla in the Throne Room. Punishing her and working her toward an orgasm without release once again. The marks i’ve surely left on her body and the ways she was clearly in pain when I brought her to her room not long ago.

  Feeding from Brielle, fucking her. The ways she’s called me Alca tonight and all of the mistakes I’ve very stupidly made with both of them.

  I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be. Skilla is weaving her way into my head, into my hunger, and I’ve never experienced a draw to someone like I do with her.

  How the fuck am I supposed to handle this all correctly?

  Maybe I should abandon this training with Skilla—take her back to her home and leave her there without a word. This seems too dangerous to continue, and there’s no way in Hell I’m losing myself, my identity to the lust filled crave I have for her blood.

  No fucking way.

  The sun shines through my window in streaks of harsh, bright light piercing my eyelids.

  I don’t find comfort in the daytime…not here.

  Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I lift my palms and run them over my face, absently hoping this shakes the heavy sleep residing in my bones. God, I don’t want to wake up. The morning brings an onslaught of new problems, unresolved emotions and painful reminders of where I am and what’s happened to me.

  Like a flash flood, the thoughts spiral and cascade into a whirlwind of anxious energy inside of me. Suddenly sleep is so far away, so impossible to catch I know I won’t be able to find it again. So, I sit up instead, using my muscles to pull me upwards in a way that never had me second guessing my physical discomfort until right this very second.

  A deep, achy pain shoots through me. In every fucking direction. My ass is sore, spreading up my back and down over my thighs. I groan as I pull myself upwards, confusion running through my head at what could have made me this uncomfortable.

  Memories flash through my head, the dark room Na’amah trapped me in, the ways my hands were tied up above my head, the fucking flog. The icy touch. The near orgasm.

  All of it. It quickly plays like a loop inside my mind, over and over again while my emotions ride the rollercoaster of repetition.

  But even still, I’m far more sore and in pain than I would have expected. She hit me, she tied me up, but as I shift the blanket and look over my thighs and lower stomach, I notice various streaks of blue under my flesh like veins. I lift my trembling fingers and run them softly over the lines, bewilderment washing over me as I try to understand what’s happened.

  Fuck, I can almost feel them. Like there’s genuinely something underneath my fucking skin where she’s touched me. I panic, my heart thundering loudly in my chest as I leap from my bed and move toward the large mirror on one side of my room.

  But the steps alone are painful, and I slow my movements in order to ease the ache. Twisting in the mirror, I inspect my body, finding these markings all over my entire frame. They spread wide over my ass and up my spine, covering my thighs completely and even branch over my core.

  “What the hell?” I stammer, a sudden fear building in my chest at what I’m seeing. What’s happening to me? What does this mean? And will these last forever, will the ache in every step remain permanent?

  Tears spring to my eyes, threatening to spill free while I force them back. My heart is racing, my skin turning clamming and pulling tight in wake of my paralyzing confusion. “No, no, no,” I begin repeating the word over and over again, turning back and forth in the mirror while I rub my hands over my thighs. Maybe I can massage them away, maybe I can force them out of me.

  These kind of marks are unlike anything I’ve experienced before, and suddenly the fear and unsettled energy inside me is breaking my mental stability and ability to logically process this. A panic swells in my stomach, and I begin using my finger nails to scratch roughly at my skin over the blue streaks.

  I fall to the ground, hitting hard with a thump while those tears finally escape and spill over my cheeks. Hot streams of salt slip over my lips and coat my tongue while I dig and dig and dig at these marks. “Go away,” I mutter through clenched teeth, fighting the urge not to find something sharp and pierce my own flesh myself. “Get the fuck out of me!” My voice raises uncontrollably, but I hardly notice it. I definitely don’t care how loud I’m being and I’m lost in full abandonment as the confusion and dread take control of my every action.

  My skin is turning red, broken blood vessels springing to the forefront, but the marks don’t go away. They remain perfectly intact, if anything they’re darkening with the surrounding blood spilling around them. I whip my head to the side, surrendering to the idea that maybe I can push something underneath them and find exactly what they are. Searching the room, I shift to my hands and knees and crawl to the dresser beside me, yanking open every drawer so quickly that one falls out and hits the ground loudly.

  My breaths are coming so rapidly I can hardly catch up, and suddenly I’m feeling like I’m actually failing at inhaling despite the gasps escaping my mouth. My throat constricts, vines of fear and discomfort are wrapping tightly around me. Breathing becomes nearly impossible, and I quickly twist around on my ass as I lean back against the disheveled dresser.

  Those hot tears continue falling, now soaking my chest as it heaves up and down. Before I even realize what’s happening, I catch the door to my room swinging wide open and a smattering of footsteps rushing in to my space. I want to tell whoever it is to leave, especially if it’s fucking Na’amah, but I can’t even speak, my words catching in my sealed throat and refusing release.

  “Breathe,” a voice speaks out around me, that vintage honeyed sparking something familiar in my mind. When I lift my eyes they meet hers, dark and brown with tiny streaks of gold around the edges. “Come on now, you’re okay. Breathe, Skilla. We’ll help you.” Soft hands run over my upper arms, and I vaguely register that I’m still completely naked.

  Soothing, comforting, kind. Her touch carries a far different feeling than what I’ve experienced so far.

  A shift occurs inside my chest, a clinging need to bask in whatever kindness I can find here.

  My frantic gaze drops to my thighs and darts back up to hers. Concern and fear contorts my face into pinched brows and wide eyes. “These marks,” I stutter, scratching my fingers hastily along the blue streaks once again. Her hands quickly reach forward and grip my wrists, attempting to hold me in place when I try pulling out of her hold. “I have to get rid of them,” I tell her, my voice hitching in the obvious alarm controlling my actions.

  “Don’t—” she starts, yanking my hands up and away from my own skin. She quickly stops talking though, and I assume it’s because I’m fighting back against her control so much. Another girl rushes into the room and crouches on her knees next to this one. I believe it’s Fira and Sera, if I’m remembering their names correctly. Sera, with her long blonde hair twisted up on top of her head, leans forward to assist Fira in holding me still. But while Fira restrains my hands, Sera runs her fingers over my shoulders, gripping tightly while also running her thumbs in comforting patterns along my skin.

  “Don’t scratch them, they’ll go away on their own.” Fira explains further, finally having a moment to actually speak now that Sera is helping her.

  “They aren’t permanent. It’s just Na’amah’s way of marking you during your time with her. She can’t help it, really.” Sera speaks this time, her voiced carrying attributes of comfort and peace. I slow my fight, finding their calm nature beneficial to my own nerves. Their energy reeks of content and unity and I get the strangest feeling that maybe… just maybe they actually want to be here.

  For some reason, I find comfort in that and I quietly hope there is a kind of freedom in being here. If I can never escape that is.


  “When? When will they go away?” I ask immediately, desperate to remove myself from this physical association with Na’amah. I’m angry with her, absolutely livid for the ways she’s treated me since we met. Her brief slips of humanity are easily destroyed by her continuous shitty control.

  “A day or so, as long as you don’t have another session with her before then,” Fira offers her hand to me after releasing my wrists, standing and pulling me up alongside her. “Heat, that will help with muscle aches. Haven’t you noticed how cold they are? The marks I mean.”

  Cold? No. I hadn’t noticed, but I look down and run my fingers along them again, focusing on the temperature of my skin in those places. Fuck, they are cold. I guess the constant heat of anxiety and panic washing through me masked the chill they clearly carry.

  “I—No, no. I hadn’t noticed.” Fuck, I need to my shit together.

  Finally, everything in me starts to calm, my breaths steady, my heart rate slows and my mind clears just a bit. At least I know this is normal in this realm of completely absurdity.

  “They’ll go away, don’t worry. You’ll learn to adjust to the pain, and once you’ve bonded with Lilith, you won’t have these marks any longer. Her powers aren’t rooted in ice, which is what Na’amah inflicts when she touches you.” Sera steps past me and begins fixing the mess I’ve made with my dresser. Fira follows suit and reaches in to pull out a new set of clothes for me. It looks like a pair of black leggings and a slouchy blue sweatshirt, she turns and lays them on my bed, moving toward the door with Sera once I’ve clearly calmed.

  “Thank you,” I reply, processing the explanation she’s given me regarding these streaks. “I appreciate the help, and the answers. More than you know.”

  “We do know though; we know exactly how you feel right now. We’ve all been through it, we’ve survived. You will too.” Sera smiles sweetly, and Fira leans against my door frame with her arms crossed over her chest. Her round tits spill slightly from the lace bralette she’s wearing, all in black while Sera dons a similar top in white.

  “Get dressed and meet us out here. We’ll walk you down to the hall for breakfast.” Fira’s voice is kind, but I can tell she holds a bit of a spark Sera doesn’t. She seems like the sassier one of the two, the one who doesn’t take as much shit as the others—or maybe deals the shit most. Either way, she seems genuine, and I appreciate the both of them for stepping in to help when I’m so lost here. “Also, just a heads up—things won’t get easier here. They’ll get harder first, until you surrender to your Alca completely. Until you’ve bonded with her, she’ll push and push and push and it won’t be fucking pleasant.”

  Sera glances toward Fira and then strangely looks behind them, her eyes lingering on something before turning back toward me. I’m listening to them while I dress, sliding the leggings slowly over my pained skin and pulling the top over my head. “What is that supposed to mean? How much worse can it get than this?” I question, confused as to what else I can anticipate.

  “She only means it’s a journey, being here that is. Your relationship with Na’amah. Giving up the life you had before this. None of us thought we’d be here, but it’s good once you make it through.” Sera steps in this time, sharing a different perspective than what it feels like Fira was trying to say.

  I scoff though, because how in the hell can she say this is all good?

  “I know, I know. You don’t believe it until you experience it., Even if I tell you everything you’re feeling is worth it, what you’re about to go through is worth it.” Sera lifts her hands and absently adjusts her hair, possibly a nervous tick as she speaks to me.

  Fira looks at her though, narrowing her eyes and standing up straight in the doorway next to her. “Don’t over sell it, Sera,” she bites, her tone turning sharp and strange between them.

  Sera watches her silently and I can’t help but wonder what’s going on between them. She moves to lift a hand and reach for Fira’s arm, but she’s quicker and intentionally steps away and out of her reach. “Don’t.” Fira says quietly, and the hurt in her voice is both evident and intriguing.

  Fira turns to me one last time before leaving. “Try not to kill Brielle today.”

  My brows dip in complete and utter perplexity. “I don’t even know her,” I start, but Fira’s mouth quirks up in a knowing grin, as if she’s aware of something I’m not. Sera’s gaze drops to the floor and I watch as she twirls her fingers in front of her waist.

  “Focus on your breathing. When everything feels like it’s falling apart, when your emotions begin to get the best of you, focus on your breaths and her chill. I know it sounds strange, but as you connect more with her, you’ll be able to feel her in different places around the kingdom without actually being near her. Especially with those marks, you’ll learn to appreciate them and what they offer you when you’re feeling most alone.” Sera speaks with her head turned downward and I listen to her intently. I’m not sure why she’s avoiding my glances, but my heart spikes in curiosity as to what could have happened with the girl I haven’t officially met.

  “I can’t imagine connecting with her like that.” I speak honestly, my voice shifting quiet and uncomfortable.

  “How can you not? Tell me right now you feel nothing when she’s near you.” Fira hasn’t left yet, and now her words are forcing me to face truths I may not be ready to admit to just yet.

  “I feel plenty when I’m around her—anger, resentment, loathing,” I quip, going defensive against whatever she’s alluding to.

  “And?” She pushes, stepping back into the room and coming closer to me as I lean back against my bed. “Be honest with yourself. Don’t fucking hide behind those negative emotions. It’s easy to stay distracted when you’re angry.”

  I pause, refusing to admit to what she’s saying. Even while my mind flashes to the moments I’m drawn to Na’amah. The quick touches and heady words when it feels like she’s giving into something she shouldn’t be. All the times she’s shown bits of possession and the ways in which my body easily and wantonly responds to her.

  When I’m wet, when she’s taking control and touching me like she owns me.

  I have moments when that is exactly what I want, when she’s fulfilling desires inside of me I never realized were so hungry.

  “That’s what I thought,” Fira states confidently, turning on her heels and striding out of the room. “Now come on, it’s time to eat.”

  I don’t speak, instead I sit in what she’s said, knowing that in several ways she’s absolutely right. I’m struggling to understand what that exactly means for me.

  Each step out of my room and into the common area is filled with a blunt pain. But slowly it gets easier to manage, not disappearing completely, but hitting in duller waves as my body heats up and moves more. It seems as though everyone else is already gone, and I walk in-between both Sera and Fira as we make our way downstairs and through a separate hallway to our left that I haven’t been down before.

  It looks the same as all the others, covered in torches with purple flames and a mix of both iron and wooden doors on either side of me.

  We don’t talk as we walk, and the silence feels heavy and thick amongst the three of us. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to walk into something awful, and the echoed steps off our feet leave eerie shivers running up my spine.

  I tuck my arms around my chest, feeling the familiar cold breeze as we meet the end of the hall. Other scents waft through my nose, and I tilt my chin up as I breathe in and recognize an array of comforting foods.

  Eggs, bacon, something sweet and syrupy.

  My stomach rumbles audibly, and Sera glances over to me with a nervous look lingering on her features.

  “Can you tell me what is going on?” I ask quietly, frustration looming in my mind at the fact that they haven’t told me what to expect here.

  “Remember to breathe. Focus on the feeling of her ice under your sk—” Sera speaks quickly, and my eyes narrow wh
ile my brows draw together as I watch her. But suddenly, something tall and hard slams directly into my chest, and I’m caught off guard as I fall back on my ass before I have the chance to catch myself.

  I quickly look up, my eyes colliding with Brielle’s as she glares down at me. I can almost swear her nose it tilted straight up to the fucking ceiling, even though her gaze remains on me. I’d say the heat radiating off of her is practically tangible, but it’s actually the very clear and obvious ice I feel so strongly from her first.

  That’s when my eyes catch something entirely different and yet all too disgustingly familiar at the same time.

  Small, tiny streaks of blue peek out the top of her cream sweater, cracking along her throat and over her sharp jawline.

  My heart beat speeds up uncontrollably, my breath catching in my throat as I begin putting the pieces together.

  I didn’t see those marks yesterday when I first saw Brielle in the common room. The girls said I’d have these for a day or two if I didn’t have another session with Na’amah before then. They’d disappear after that…

  But that would mean Brielle would have been with her recently, either before or after Na’amah was with me last night.

  A sour and gut-wrenching feeling rips through my stomach and chest. My heart spikes and my belly heaves as vomit threatens to rise up my throat.

  I shouldn’t care. Not at all. I should not give a single shit about this. But my body is reacting too viscerally, so aggressively, that I’m struggling to hold myself back from showing my emotions completely.

  “Breathe,” Sera drops to her knees in order to help me up. Her voice is so quiet only I can hear her. But it doesn’t help, not really, the jealousy grows and spirals until it feels as those it’s snaking over my throat and eluding my vision completely. All I can see are those familiar streaks running over her skin, and as they disappear under her blouse, I can imagine where else they’ve marked her.